Forgotten Warnings pt 1 by Zombie Zak!

"Comes the Dark"

Fire, the birth of Man,
The birth of desire.
From the beginning of Time
Comes the depths of a crime.
A riddle of the Age as simple
As the riddle of the old Sage:
When does the beginning end
And the end begin again?

#

"Charles? Where are you, come in! We've lost track of your signal. Come in, damn it. We can't track you anymore," Barbara shouted into the microphone.

Giving up, she turned to the lab technician present with her at the site's mobile command tent. "Jonn, do you have anything useful to add?"

He looked down at the ground for a moment considering his next words.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Rogers. He grabbed his bag and headed on down the Hole. I told him to wait, to wait for proper support and everything. But he just bolted. He had this pasty look on his face, as if he had been stripped of his soul or something. I have never seen him look that out of sorts before. One moment we're working on the soundings over there on the resonance machine, and the next he screams out something unintelligible and takes off."

He pointed at one of the high tech devices that occupied one corner of the tent - the glow from its display a deeply hypnotic dance. The newer device was experimental and had a fancy name for it, but everyone called it a Resonator; it was an attempt to replace the more traditional magnetometer and gravitometer.

"And? What does the data say? Anything?"

"Just what we already suspected: That there is a large pocket of space below the lowest portion of the Hole as it is. There is a cavern beneath the Hole."

"How big?"

"Really big. And empty."

"Damn it; we weren't supposed to attempt to break through into the main chamber until tomorrow morning."

"I know that, Doctor Rogers; but he just up and took off. He kept repeating: There must be one, there must be one; there can only be one, there can only be one. It's in the pit, it's in the pit; the final one, the final one. I swear to whatever deity you wish to name, he looked quite loony as he ran away."

"Jonn, quit playing around. I need raw info here, not silly dramatics." She walked over to the display and gave it a long, hard look. "What did Charles take with him?"

"His pack, a pick axe and about hundred and fifty feet of rope; a harness, too. The winch, of course is already positioned at the bottom of the Hole; flares, flash light. I don't know what else he might have picked up; that's just what I saw him with." His hands fluttered like butterflies.

"Alright, fine. Let's get this onto some semblance of order, than, shall we?"

"Uhm, sure! How?"

"Get a hold of Lauren and Phil. Tell them to meet me at the Hole. I'm going to see what Charles might have gotten himself into. I'm guessing we're going into the deep dark earlier than planned."

#

The camp was small, only a handful of tents scattered haphazardly about. Evening had set hours ago, and morning was but a glimpse away. Jonn shouted like a madman and ran through the disarray, anxious to rouse everybody. Groggy heads and bodies peeked out of their meager housing arrangements.

There were about thirty other junior geologists, various technicians and general laborers housed within the drab grey tent city. Their jobs were to begin in earnest tomorrow, the first day of drill assembly and retrieval of some actual core samples. Stuff to send home and write good things about.

When it was clear that a problem was at hand, people began to rustle with some degree of purpose, dejectedly getting an early start on the day. Jonn bee-lined straight to Lauren and Phil's tent, which, not the least bit surprisingly, was the furthest away. When he got there, he had to rest a moment to catch his breath.

"God damn it, Jonn; what the blazes is such a racket needed for? Can't you see the missus and I was having a debate of heated proportions?" Lauren could be heard inside, giggling. They were the only couple that was attached to the expedition.

Jonn blanched a little, understanding the euphemism for what it was; it was difficult to see the darkly skinned man blush, but Phil knew that his barb had hit. Still catching his breath, the technician blurted out "Charles has gone to the Hole. He means to breach the bottom and go into the cavern below. Alone."

"God's above, is he insane?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. I'm beginning to think so, but Doctor Rogers wants us over at the Hole as soon as possible."

"Well, obviously. OK, you get back to the Command Shack. Lauren and I will be over to the Hole as soon as we can. Tell Barbara we'll be there in five or ten minutes, tops! Go. Come on, honey, we're going on a climb." The door zipped shut as he whipped back inside. Dismissed, Jonn headed back to the main tent at a more leisurely pace. The rest of the camp was still waking up as he walked past.

#

"Jonn! What's our com status?" Barbara demanded.

"We are good, Doctor. I've got solid readings on all three units that you have there. I have solid readings still being returned by the resonator - sorry, I can't help it. That's just what I like to call the Imaging System."

"Jonn, you're babbling. Snap out of it and stay focused."

"Yes, Doctor; I'll try."

"Good. Now do we have any kind of telemetry on Charles?"

"The only thing that I can confirm is that his transponder is working and that he is precisely below your location. The depth readings are coming back, odd. They don't make any sense whatsoever. I am confident that he is getting our transmissions, but he is either ignoring them or has turned off his com unit." Jonn busied himself checking and re-checking equipment, trying to account for anomalies.

"Roger that. Stay online, and keep recording our chatter. We may need to go through the tapes later. We're going down the Hole. We'll keep counting and reporting our depths until we hit the bottom." She glanced at her fellow geologists, Lauren and Phil. Both nodded with confidence.

"Affirmative. Copy that, Jonn out."

"Alrighty; here we go, ready or not. Let's go down into the Hole."

One by one, the three geologists lowered down into the deep shaft. On the surface, it was loud with the wind and natural sounds of the plains. But, after a few minutes of descent, the volume rapidly diminished and was replaced by the random rattle of small rocks skittering against outcrops and the steady breathing of the team. The brisk tone of Doctor Rogers rhyming off the depth as they continued on was a metronome to their progress.

Phil, who had taken point, pulled out a flare, popped the igniter and dropped it to the ground below. He didn't watch it fall, he merely continued his descent. Lauren and Barbara close behind him.

Soon, he could see the flare’s harsh spluttering glow, lying at the bottom of the shaft. Galvanized by knowing they were close, he increased his rate of descent. He let go the rope and dropped to the ground with a gentle thud. He looked up at his partners, gauging their progress, the light off of his helmet showering them with brightness.

"Alright, ladies, not far now!" He hollered good-naturedly.

"Yeah, that's fine, Phil. Make sure ya get a good look at me bum while yer down there, OK hun?" Lauren quipped.

"Already well acquainted with it, mah dear. But thankee for acknowledging it!" He grinned as he set about inspecting the lower area of the shaft. He cleared the flare and what little tools that Charles had left carelessly about. Phil frowned at that. Charles was a neat freak. He wouldn't abandon things like this.

Lauren was down next, settling easily to the ground. Barbara followed quickly after. The landing was much wider than the shaft that led to it. Approximately sixteen feet square and easy to accommodate a few people and equipment.

In the corner off to the side, there was a hulking piece of machinery. The winch was of solid heft and could handle a thousand pounds. Currently, it had been deployed to the fullest extent of its rope. The auto cutoff had activated and it was quiet, dormant, waiting expectantly; lurking in the darkness like some mischievous creature.

"How long do you think he's been down there?" Phil asked in hushed tones, his words echoed like in a tomb.

"Not too long. Maybe twenty, thirty minutes tops. If he took his time and hacked at the opening with any degree of care, that is. What do you think of ..?" Barbara gestured at the winch.

"Well, frankly, that puppy has a good five hundred feet of very strong rope on it. From what you've told me, Charles had an additional hunnert and fifty to tie on to it. I'm assumin' from what ya've told me from Jonn, that the cavern beneath us is deeper than that, yes?"

Barbara nodded in the low light. "Then, I have no idea what he's planning on accomplishing. It won't get him down there any further than that. Basically, he should be swinging at the end of a rope in a very large open space, which, in and of itself, shouldn't be there."

"Well then, let's take a look, shall we?"

"Aye."

They moved closer to the opening that had been hacked out of the rock. Originally, they had drilled a hole only four inches wide in order to get some core samples. That was when they discovered that there was dead space below. The high altitude scans, the satellite imaging, the seismic readings, all indicated solid bedrock below, with a good potential of oil below that. Everything pointed to black gold. That hole, however, told a different story.

The hole now was eerily fractured, reminiscent of something trying to claw its way out, rather than the frantic excavation of a geologist of some report. Charles had managed to hack out a hole roughly two feet wide to a foot and a half. This new addition to the shaft continued down through another five feet of solidly compacted sedimentary rock.

"Man; that took a lot of work. I didn't think Charles would have that in him." Lauren said it softly, not wanting to make much noise.

"Yeah; go figure. How's the tension in the line? Is he still attached to it? Can we get a light down there? Anything reflective? Can you see the light from his hard hat?" Barbara spilled out. Nervousness for her friend mixed with concern about the continued status of the project.

"Slow down, slow down. One thing at a time." Phil reached over to the rope, pulling on it gently, swinging it one way and then another with tiny movements. Staring down into the hole, he brought to bear the full beam of light from his hard hat's lamp. Nothing pierced the inky darkness below the lower edge of the hole. He couldn’t even see a trace of Charles' light.

Phil reached into his pocket and withdrew another flare. Lauren put a hand up and shook her head, warning of the potential error of such a choice. Natural gas pockets would not mix well with flares.

"Well, the line still has tension so he's either tied to it or else he's managed to attach a sack of potatoes to the end. I can't see past nothing in the hole." He chuckled at the ridiculousness. Both Lauren and Barbara's expressions were painted with anxiety. Phil acknowledged their concern.

"Barbara, how would like me to proceed? Activate the winch and bring up whatever's attached to the line? Or do we move to another strategy?" He used his most professional voice, the one that he reserved for serious discussions and honored colleagues. It had the desired effect. Barbara shook herself awake and focused on his words.

"Yes, Phil. Pull it up. Let's see what he's gotten himself into."

He reached over to the machine, sliding past Lauren to do so, and flipped a switch to change the direction of the winch. Then he turned the power on and carefully cranked the handle so that the rope would wind at a slow pace. The machine groaned into life and began retrieving its connection back from the depths below. As it did so, Phil kept watch, occasionally guiding the rope so that it wouldn't catch on the edge.

"Well, ladies; this will take a little bit of time. Why don't you fan out and check to see if there is anything of note here as to why he went off like this?" Grunting, he manhandled the line again into alignment.

"Right." Lauren moved back towards the shaft and looked around the sparse space. She picked up tools and moved them into orderly storage on the far side of the chamber.

Barbara checked in with base camp. "Jonn? Can you read me? Are you receiving our audio signals?"

"Doctor Rogers. Yes, I’m receiving your signal. It is faint, but clear. I still show no change in readings. Everything still says there should be tons and tons of rock just below your position."

"Roger that. I was just checking our connection. Keep recording."

"Affirmative. Also of note, the sun has started to rise and the camp is now fully awake and ready to get to work. Is there anything that you would like me to start?"

"Yes; see if you can get a connection with Randolph at the head office."

"Are you sure, Doctor Rogers?" There was an uncomfortable moment. Phil turned and stared at her.

"Yes, I'm positive. Something is not right here, and HO needs to have clear info on the situation prior to worst case scenarios."

"Affirmative, Doctor Rogers." There was the crackle of static and then silence.

"Well, nothing to really report around this lovely little section of the armpit of the world.” Lauren said. “Tools are the only things that were left down here. It’s all stuff that we had left earlier in the day in preparation for today's fun."

Barbara just nodded at her blankly. Lauren continued putting things back in order.

"Well, ladies; it shouldn't be long now. Another minute or two, and this puppy will be hauled up." Phil kept his focus on the rope, preventing any chance of mishap. He gazed down the hole, but still couldn’t see any change in light or movement. However, there was still weight at the end of the rope; that was a good sign. Up came the last of the main heavy-duty rope and he could see the tie off between the added lengths. Briefly, he gazed at the knot combining the two and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Phil had worried that in his haste, Charles might have tied them together poorly.

"Only another hunnert feet ta go, ladies. Won’t be long now."

Barbara looked hungrily down into the hole, thinking of all the things she would say to Charles that might make an impact on his reckless mind. She couldn't nail down anything specifically that would really work, but felt that a major dressing down was definitely in order. She watched the rope continue to coil into the winch, and slowly, foot-by-foot, drag its cargo up.

"Phil, do you see anything in that darkness? Anything moving?" The drone, the waiting was driving Barbara into a state of monomania.

"Uhm, no. Just a big soup of blackness. I'd like ta really know what happened to Charles' lamp. It should be showing light by now."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing."

The top strap of the Charles' rigging finally crested the darkness, small shadows lapping away from the new shape of ascent.

Quickly, Charles came into view, the lamp on his hard hat dead. He shivered visibly, while his eyes remained closed. Clasped tightly in his arms, he held an odd object for a geologist to see at the bottom of a new dig: It looked like a book, one of significant age and testament to events dire. Even as his body was pulled higher out of the hole, and Phil swung the armature over to the cavern floor where he could lower Charles to the ground, he remained catatonic.

"Charles! Charles, talk to me!" Barbara spoke passionately. Charles shook violently once again, and his glassy eyes cracked open. His gaze was unfocused, not quite connected to his mind. Slowly, he rounded on Barbara's face, and recognition dawned. A little bit of color returned to his cheeks.

"Barbara?"

"Yes, Charles, it's me. And Phil and Lauren. We're here, you're safe now."

"No, not safe. Never again safe! We have to get out of here. Now. We have to get as far away as we can. Something bad is going to happen. Something really, really bad. We have to go!" He tried to get up, but clumsily fell down. Phil grabbed and stabilized him as Barbara began disengaging Charles from the rig.

"No, leave him in it. We'll tie it off to the rope for the main shaft and pull him up. He's in no shape to climb it now. Lauren, go now, straight up." Phil spoke with urgency.

"Charles, we're going to tie you off to the end of the rope here. We're going to climb up ahead of you. Can you hang on long enough to do that?" Barbara stared deeply into his eyes and wondered what was staring back.

"Yes, yes, I can hold on. It won't matter much though, of this I am sure. There's something evil below this cavern. Hurry, can we go now?"

"Yes, Charles. But what happened down there?"

"I don't know. But that wasn't a place of this world. There was an altar with this book on it, along with this…” He held out an ancient knife. “I think that's blood on it, but it's old, so very old. I'm sorry, but I don't have all of my mind with me right now, but, the only other thing that I'm sure of, is that … It Comes!"

"Clear, Barbara. He's tied off. Lauren should be near the top by now. Come on. If we want to get him to help, we need to move quickly."

"Yes, Phil. Go. I'm right behind you. Charles, only a few minutes, okay? And then we'll have you topside and we can get you some food and drink. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah, sounds great. Will there be milk and cookies?"

"I thought you hated sweets."

"Naw, but I have a craving."

"Ok, well, let's get going then."

"Sure, sure, sure, sure …” Charles drifted off into unconsciousness. “It comes - from beneath, from the ground, from the pages written down. It Comes!"

In-Flight Meal pt.5 by Mark Jackson

The plane skimmed across the trees of a thickly wooded section of Southern Illinois, snapping trunks like toothpicks. The left wing dipped, caught in the trees and burst into a cloud of splinters and steel shrapnel.

The impact rocked the plane like a child’s toy and ripped the wing from the side of the fuselage leaving a gaping hole. The plane twisted and swung to the left causing the right wing to dive into a grove of huge hickories. The wing disappeared in a roar followed by the agonizing scream of shearing metal as the plane was torn in two.

In the cockpit, the eyes of the pilot and copilot glowed with the intensity of a spotlight covered with blood. They had just enough time to recognize the shape of a huge tree before the cockpit disintegrated into a mix of glass, wires and wood. The rest of the front section followed the cockpit into the trees exploding into a huge fire ball, instantly consuming everything within a fifty-yard diameter.

The not so attractive couple, who had managed to strap themselves into their seats just as 5B was coming out of the exhaust side of the tail engine in a pink spray, were incinerated before their minds could even comprehend they were on fire.

Completely disoriented, the last thing Tony remembered before slipping into a calm sea of blackness was flopping back and forth on the seat like a rag doll and hearing the thudding roar of a huge explosion.

#

The instant the plane was torn in two, the back half, including row 13, spun around and smashed through the trees tail first. Then as if an answer to Tony’s prayer, it broke through a stand of soft pines and crashed into a large clearing nearly three hundred yards away from the raging inferno caused by the explosion.

The impact cut a trench into the soft floor of the woods, sending up a brown wave of dirt over fifty feet in the air. When the tail dug in, every window remaining intact exploded outward in a spray of glass. The cargo hold and section housing the remaining passenger seats rippled and compressed backward like an accordion, before twisting sideways and slamming into the ground.

The bolts keeping Tony’s seat in place finally gave way during the sideways twist, causing him and everything else loose in the plane to be vomited out like spoiled meat. Still dangling from his seat, he flew thirty yards before smashing into several small pine trees.

The impact with the trees ripped Tony from the seat belt and twisted his foot one hundred and eighty degrees from its normal position. This white-hot flash of pain rocked him back to consciousness. He hit the ground hard, feeling and hearing at least one rib snap. Tony screamed with all he could manage. He felt the world start to spin, turned his head to one side and vomited on his shoulder before blacking out.

Behind Tony’s motionless body, wires dangled from the wreckage like multicolored snakes, occasionally sparking and sending flashes of light through the trees like the lightning of a distant storm. Below the wires, a huge pocket formed by the twisted metal was slowly filling up with jet fuel dripping from somewhere in the mangled section of the wing.

#

A split second before the plane broke in two, 13A had lunged towards Tony. This last second move was the only thing that kept him from joining the fate of the rest of the front half occupants. He had caught the seat right beside Tony and managed to hang on for the two seconds it took the back part of the plane to veer off from main section.

When it smashed through the pines, he lost his grip and flew like a cowboy thrown from an enraged bull. He went through the first tree suffering no more than a six-inch gash across his back, but the second one caught his left arm in a V shaped branch peeling off all the skin from the elbow down. This twisted him around, and he hit the next one face first, breaking most of the bones in his face and leaving a nice assortment of shark like teeth embedded in the trunk. The impact with the tree left him unconscious and dangling from several of the heavier branches left unbroken during the assault.

#

When Tony opened his eyes, he saw the trees around him lighting up with the flash of photographer’s cameras and knew rescuers had found the plane. His heart leapt to his throat, and with a tremendous effort, he pushed himself up to look back at the crash site where he could see people sorting through the wreckage. "Here!" Tony yelled and then groaned from the pain in his side. Struggling, he lifted a hand, waved at the figures, and then felt his heart drop as he realized the people were only jumping shadows. There were no rescuers, no photographers. Only the smoldering carcass of the plane.

Another flash of light lit up the woods, and Tony saw it was only loose wires that must still be connected to some sort of battery reserve. His heart sank, and he winced at the pain seeming to come from everywhere. He looked at his leg and nearly threw up again when he saw his foot going when it should have been coming. He pulled himself over to a fallen tree and leaned his back against it.

Even at a quarter mile away, he could feel the heat from the fire raging from the other half of the wreckage. Everything had an orange glow. The shadows of the trees flicked and danced around him like demons in a satanic ritual.

He could smell a rancid mix of melted plastic and jet fuel hanging in the air like a poisoned fog. He tried to push himself up when his mind, nearly wiped out with shock, suddenly went back to what was happening just before the crash. Even through the intense pain, he felt his skin crawl.

His heart raced remembering the hideous creatures only moments away from ripping him open to partake in the in flight meal. He looked around like a cornered animal; the thought of being roasted alive suddenly took a backseat to the thought of what could be watching him from the dark shadows of the woods.

His mind told him something was creeping up on him right now, but all he could see in the faint glow of the fire and the occasional flash of the wires, was twisted trees and large chunks of metal and debris. The crash killed them all, hadn’t it? Although if he was spared and if he survived...

He heard a loud snap followed by a heavy thud. It sounded like it landed somewhere behind the plane. He pulled himself in to a sitting position by using a branch sticking from the tree he was leaning on. Then, enduring more pain than he had ever experienced in his life, he pulled himself up on the tree in an initial effort to move away from the remains of the plane. Sweat poured from his forehead in constant streams, stinging his eyes and blurring his vision. He was trying to focus through the faint light when the wires sparked again, and in the instant of the bright flash, Tony thought he saw something moving from behind the plane and into the trees.

#

13A regained consciousness when the branch bearing most of his weight cracked with a loud snap. Before he had time to get his bearings, the branch broke sending him downward through several smaller branches. Just before hitting the ground, a leafless twig caught him cleanly in one eye sending out a spray of yellow liquid before snapping off.

He slammed to the ground, but knowing the bastard who caused all this had somehow survived allowed him to stifle a scream. A scream may alert him, which just wouldn’t do. No, it wouldn’t do at all.

He pushed himself to his feet and made his way toward the clearing where he could see the piece of shit struggling against a fallen tree. A broken and hideous grin spread on 13A’s face. He could tell the extent of the man’s injuries were significant enough there would be no problem taking care of business.

The remaining teeth in his mouth quivered. Two teeth barely hanging on to the gums fell out, bouncing off his chest and onto the ground. He absently put his skinned hand to his face and wiped away a thick line of yellow fluid running from his left eye socket. Using the cover of darkness, he moved from behind the plane and into the trees.

#

“Who’s there?” Tony tried to shout. His broken ribs made breathing difficult and yelling excruciating. “Who’s-” This time when the wires sparked Tony could see who was there, what was there, and terror gripped his heart with a cold, steel fist. 13A was making his way from the trees directly at him. In the brief glances granted by the wires, Tony could see 13A had taken his fair share of damage, but it didn’t seem to be slowing him down.

Only ten yards from Tony, 13A stretched out his arm and pointed at him. Large flaps of skin dangled from around his elbow, and the finger-pointing at him was nothing more than bone stained pink with blood.

“I am going to enjoy killing you more than you can imagine, and it won’t be quick, I can promise you that.” His voice growled and bubbled as it spilled from his grotesque mouth. His teeth were vibrating like they did on the plane, but now were much slower and jerky. A tooth working its way from his mouth caught on his bottom lip, splitting it open like a bloated grub.

Tony tried to scream again and pushed himself away from the horror moving towards him. When he did, he fell backwards over the tree, sending fresh pain through his leg and chest. The tree blocked out his view, but through the crackling of the wires, he could hear demented laughter coming closer.

The periodic bursts of light had turned to a constant flicker seeming to burn the trees with silver fire. From over the log, Tony saw 13A’s ruined face look down at him. His bottom lip was gone. His one good eye burned bright red casting a light on Tony’s face like the laser site from a gun.

13A stood up straight, stretched out his arms and howled up at the sky. Tony knew he was only seconds away from being torn to pieces and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears to try to block out the hideous screech.

Behind them, the harness holding the writhing wires to the crumpled wing, silently gave way, sending them downward like a coil of angry snakes. Still spitting sparks, they landed directly in the pool of jet fuel below.

What happened next never clearly registered in Tony’s mind. The air suddenly crackled like static blasting from a PA system. He felt every hair on his body stand straight out as all of the air was sucked from his lungs. Above him, 13A stood with one foot on the ground and one on top of the log. His one eye widened in seeming understanding.

The concussion of the explosion burst Tony’s right eardrum and sent hot spurts of blood from both nostrils. A chunk of metal the size of a small car screamed through the air just above Tony’s head and smashed through the trees behind him. On its way by, it turned 13A into nothing more than a bad memory. The impact of nearly a ton of steel moving at roughly the speed of sound, transformed 13A’s brain to pulp before the idea of getting out of the way even started to become a thought. One foot, with the leg from the knee down still attached, lie twitching in the dirt while the other took a one way ride with the hunk of metal.

Small fires crackled all around Tony, but enough clearing had taken place with the initial crash that singed hair and first-degree burns were as close as he got to being burned alive. He made a brief attempt to push himself up, but pain and exhaustion overpowered any will he had left.

He felt his head start to swim as the trees above him spun in slow circles. Consciousness was slipping away fast, but before it overtook him, the faintest trace of a smile crossed his bloodstained lips when he heard the far-off and sweet sound of sirens drifting through the woods.

The End

In-Flight Meal pt. 4

He wanted to scream, but his lungs fought just to draw breath. His head throbbed and sweat ran down the sides of his face in small rivers. He knew he had to do something or little Mrs. Saggy Boobs was going to run her teeth through him like a runaway buzz saw. Then Alex’s face was gone as she was ripped from his vision and thrown back against the seats. She howled in rage and frustration.

“You know the rules, you stupid bitch! I make the kill!” 13A was standing in the aisle where Alex had been moments ago. The skin on his arms and face rippled like there was something alive crawling just below the surface. His teeth were similar to Alex’s, in that they were moving in his mouth twitching and rubbing together the way the mandibles might scissor back and forth in the maw of an insect. His flat nostrils flared, and Tony could see what looked like tiny worms squirming just inside his nose. The signature sunglasses were gone revealing the same glowing orbs as the others.

Tony tried to lift his arm again, and this time it moved up several inches. He looked at 13A who was glaring at Alex and breathing hard. A fine mist of snot and worms sprayed from his nostrils with each breath.

Alex crouched in the aisle with her legs and arms bent like a tiger ready to pounce. She held her head low and looked up at 13A, baring her vibrating teeth and snarling. Long clear globs of spit dripped from the corners of her misshapen mouth. 13A’s red eyes burned with fury. He pulled his elbows back, pushing out his chest and let out a deafening screech.

The old man, seemingly excited by scuffle, started making sharp yipping noises and made the mistake of stepping out in the aisle between Alex and 13A. Tony heard a whooshing sound as 13A tore off the old man’s head with one hand.

The head bounced off the overhead storage bins and landed a couple of seats back with a wet thump. Tony saw the body fall forward. Black gore shot from its ragged neck in heavy spurts, spraying the twins and attractive couple before falling down beside his seat. As soon as it hit, a sharp burning smell drifted up making his stomach heave. He knew if he had eaten anything lately, he would have just added it to the mess.

One of the twins grabbed the body and dragged it forward. Immediately her sister and the not so attractive couple started scrambling to get position. The man from 5B was working his way back to join in on the fun. Tony could hear wet tearing and splashing sounds over their hungry screeching. Obviously, these things weren’t too picky on what or whom they ate.

The old woman hissed and made a move towards 13A. She had barely taken a step when 13A slashed her with one thick fingernail laying her open from belly to chin like a gutted fish. What looked like rotting snakes spilled out and hung from the slit. She looked down in disbelief then collapsed in a heap. More of the sour burning smell filled the cabin. It smelled to Tony like someone was burning cabbage then tried to put it out with buckets of infected urine.

In a quickness Tony had never seen before, Alex sprang on 13A. They crashed down on the twins, and Tony heard a wet crunching sound followed by an unmistakable scream of pain. Alex and 13A were back on their feet, ripping and tearing at each other in a mix of growls and screams. Seats were torn out, and foam stuffing flew through the air like snow. Behind them, one twin lay on the floor twitching while the rest of the group retreated towards the front of the plane.

Tony knew it would only be a matter of time before these things realized what the whole fight was about and turned their hunger and savagery towards him. He also knew it was now or never.

With immeasurable effort, he tilted his head back even further to try to see behind him. Everything looked upside down, and the seats right behind him blocked what little sense he could make of his surroundings. He forced himself to think about what he saw earlier.

He remembered empty seats, with exception of the late older couple, and clear in the back was what he thought was the lavatory. If he could get to the bathroom, he may be able to lock himself in or maybe beyond that was a way into the luggage bay. Both options sounded pretty weak, but it had to be better than laying out like a slab of meat on the chopping block.

He heard another high-pitched scream and looked towards the front. Alex must have got one in on 13A because he had a large flap of flesh hanging off the side of his face. Behind 13A, the red eyes of the rest of the group bobbed around in the dim cabin like mutated fireflies. 13A reached out and grabbed Alex by the throat.

With his heart roaring like a runaway freight train, Tony tested his arms. They felt like they were filled with sand, but he was able to lift them both off the seat. It was all he could do to subdue the panic rising in his head. He wanted to just rip off the seat belt and charge to the back of the plane, but the small piece of his mind still holding onto sanity, told him if he couldn’t move his legs and just rolled off the seat, he would accomplish nothing other than to get their attention.

He lifted his left leg. It moved off the seat, but like his arms, it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. His right leg was about the same, but whatever drug Alex had given him was definitely wearing off.

Suddenly, a broken piece of tray table whistled just over his head, smashing into the seat behind him. With all of his concentration spent on trying to make himself move, he hadn’t noticed the fighting up front had stopped. Alex and 13A were both staring at him and slowly moving his way. The rest of their entourage was on their way back too.

Alex had a huge chunk of hair missing, exposing a skull that looked blood red in the glow of 13A’s eyes. Either it didn’t hurt, or the sight of her precious in flight meal about to get up and make a run for it, made the pain insignificant. The remaining twin was crawling over the seats like a huge spider. The not so attractive couple was squeezing down the aisle side by side snarling and slobbering. 5B was somehow crawling on the ceiling of the plane. His head hung down, and a black tongue hung from his mouth flipping from side to side like a writhing eel. 13A already had a hand on Alex’s shoulder to pull her away. His teeth were now moving so fast they were just a blur.

Knowing that sneaking to the back of the plane was out of the question, Tony did the only thing that came into his mind. In an act of pure desperation, he used all of his will and strength to sit up, grab the red handle of the emergency exit door and yank it down. Immediately a loud hissing sound came from around the edges of the door. With one hand, he tightened his seat belt and with the other, he pushed on the door. The sound of rushing air increased to a low roar. Small bits of foam and napkins flew past and were sucked out the growing gap. The force of the air and his weakened condition made it almost impossible to push open, but if he could get it open just enough to catch the wind, the rest would take care of itself.

Seeing what was about to happen 13A screamed and shoved Alex at Tony. Tony barely caught what was happening from the corner of his eye and fell back just as Alex flew over his seat. She smashed headlong into the door accomplishing what Tony didn’t have the strength to do.

The door ripped from the opening and spun away into the black expanse. The roar of the air was deafening, blocking out most of Alex’s screams. She was lying across the opening, trying to push herself away as foam, papers, and plastic glasses were sucked out around her.

Oxygen masks dropped from their compartments and swung wildly in the rush of air. Tony hung on to his seat, but could feel himself being pulled towards the open door. The seats shook as if they were in the throws of a violent seizure. Tray tables fell open and flapped up and down. Then, through the roar of the wind, Tony heard a dry snap as Alex’s spine gave in to the force of the suction. An instant later, she folded in half and vanished through the opening.

With the doorway now completely clear, the force of the wind doubled. The headless body of the old man slid past Tony’s seat and flew out. The body of the old woman wedged itself between two seats. Her loosed guts slid across the floor, unraveling like a garden hose, before being sucked out into the night. The remaining twin let out a high-pitched wail then followed the old woman’s intestines out the door in a tangle of arms and legs.

13A was hanging on to the seats screaming something at the others. Tony saw 5B sliding across the ceiling. He was trying to dig his long nails into the hard plastic of the plane with no success. He tried to jump down, but as soon as he did, he was pulled across the seats towards the door. He managed to grab the top of the seats directly in front of Tony and hold on. His feet were dangling out the door with the wind whipping his legs violently against the sides of the plane. He was only able to hold on for only a couple of seconds before he was sucked out. On his way to his final destiny, his hand briefly caught the side of the opening, which made his legs flip up and sent him cart wheeling upward and directly into the turbine of the tail engine.

The engine dogged down, made a high-pitched whining noise then burst into flames. Immediately a pulsing alarm sounded, and a rapid decent ensued. The plane shuddered and bounced as the pilot tried to compensate for the missing engine and the loss of pressure. The fact the effects of the drink were now entirely gone and Tony was running on full adrenaline were the only things giving him the strength to stay on his seat. Eight rows up, 13A was making his way back. He was three rows from Tony when the bottom of the plane clipped the first treetop. Tony closed his eyes and prayed.

In-Flight Meal pt. 3

Tony woke up willing himself not to scream. Huge beads of sweat clung to his forehead and trickled down the sides of his face like salty pearls. At first, he was disoriented and didn’t know where he was, but the soft bumping of mild turbulence and the constant low roar of the jet engines brought him back to reality.

"Son of a bitch,” Tony whispered, wiping the sweat from his face and looking around. The interior of the plane was almost completely dark, which was strange even for a redeye. He had never been on a night flight where there wasn’t at least one person reading. The dim glow of the lights above the carry on bins was the only thing keeping the interior from being completely black.

He looked to his left and could see that 13A was not in his seat, which shouldn’t be a big deal, but for whatever reason it scared the shit out of him. Now that he thought about it, this whole thing was way too whacked-out. An airline he had never heard of, some weird ass guy takes him down a stairway to an old black Cadillac, no security mind you, right out to an airplane sitting in the middle of nowhere. Was he really that desperate to get to Chicago to dismiss all of that? Thinking again about the meeting and all the things he could buy if there was a favorable outcome, made the answer a yes, but not as easy of a yes as it had been about an hour ago.

I just need to relax and accept that I got lucky for a change and- Somewhere near the front of the plane, he could have sworn he saw two red dots bobbing around like… like eyes. His heart began to speed up and was about to push his internal panic button when he saw it was just Alex working her way through the cabin with a tray of drinks. The red eyes were nothing more than light reflecting off one of the glasses. Tony took another deep breath and settled back into his seat.

He heard soft voices and giggles from somewhere up front and assumed Alex must be talking to the girls in 8A and B. He smiled, knowing they were talking about him. Alex was heading his way, but because of the seats, he still couldn’t see what was on the tray until she stopped at his row.

“Would you like a cocktail before the meal Mr. Pace?” Even in the low lighting, Alex looked like a total babe. When she bent down to offer him the tray her uniform gapped open and he couldn’t help but sneak a quick glance. When he looked back up Alex was smiling at him. Busted. He felt his face get hot. However, she didn’t seem to mind.

“Sure. What is it?” He reached out and took a glass of what looked like tomato juice.

“Bloody Mary. I mixed them myself, and I can assure you they are very good.” The way she emphasized very gave Tony a chill. He couldn’t tell if it was an Oh baby chill or an Oh shit chill, but a chill just the same.

“Ah, great. Sounds good,” Tony said really meaning it too. He raised the glass to his lips and took a healthy sip. The first taste was really very good. It had the texture of velvet and just enough of a kick to give your taste buds a slap. It was the aftertaste that made Tony wince. It was a combination of a metallic and medicinal taste. He looked back at Alex and her big dark eyes and perfect smile. Damn, she was good-looking.

“So, what do you think Mr. Pace?” She was still half bent over tempting Tony with another look.

“Fantastic. Best Bloody Mary I’ve ever had,” he lied.

“Great. Glad you like it.” Alex straightened back up, turned and offered the tray to 13A who had somehow gotten back into his seat without Tony seeing him. 13A continued to stare straight ahead, but did reach up and take a glass. Alex looked back at Tony and actually licked her lips before moving on. This sent a rush down Tony’s belly through his legs and all points in-between.

He took another sip and looked over at 13A. To his surprise, 13A was looking back at him. Tony raised his glass in a cheer’s gesture. 13A returned the gesture, and then proceeded to down his drink in a matter of a couple of seconds. When he lowered his glass, thick dark liquid trickled from the corner of his mouth and down his chin.

Now, for the first time, 13A smiled. A smile that almost made Tony drop his glass. It was a smile as far from pleasant as a cactus is from velvet. This was a smile of pure evil. The kind of smile a serial killer might produce right before slitting the throat of his victim or the smile the sadistic executioner may wear right before pulling the switch to throw 2000 volts through the electric chair and fry the accused to a crackly crisp.

Tony quickly looked away and took another drink of the Bloody Mary. He could already feel his head start to get that dull buzzed feeling and welcomed it. He looked straight ahead, but could feel 13A’s eyes on him. He took another drink.

Tony heard Alex finishing her rounds somewhere behind him. He couldn’t tell if 13A was still staring at him or not, but he didn’t want to look and take the chance of seeing that twisted smile again. What a freak, Tony thought and finished his drink in one big gulp.

The buzzed feeling was getting a little deeper, and Tony couldn’t remember getting this kicked by one drink. He played it off to not having had much sleep and the last time he ate... which reminded him of the in flight meal and wondered when it was going to begin? The thought of a big fat steak with hot pink juices running out made Tony’s mouth water.

"How was the drink Mr. Pace?”

Tony didn’t know if it had been ten minutes or ten seconds, but Alex was beside him again. He tried to look up at her, but his head felt like it just gained about twenty pounds.


Alex smiled down at him. “It’s got a bit of a kick, wouldn’t you say?” Now her voice sounded as if she were talking in an empty steel drum. The glass began slipping from his hand, but she reached down and took it before it could tumble off his leg onto the floor. “That was close Mr. Pace. You wouldn’t want to make a mess on the floor now would you?”

Alex laughed at this, and Tony thought he could make out the laughter of others joining her. To Tony it sounded warped like it was slowed down to about half speed. With great effort, Tony turned his head to face Alex. “What… the hell… is happ... pening?” He felt like he had drunk ten Bloody Marys, not one. His lips were numb, and a distant ringing filled his ears. He brought his eyes up to look at her and felt his heart stop. Her eyes were burning red. Her perfect nose was in the process of turning up exposing elongated nostrils. Thin lips stretched open over sharp teeth visibly growing from her gums. The twins from 8A and B had joined Alex and were peering over the two seats in front of him. Their eyes were as red as Alex’s.

“What’s wrong Mr.?” the twins said in unison. They looked at each other with their burning eyes and grinned. The red glow lit up their faces, which Tony could have lived without. They had both transformed from what Tony had previously considered babes to grotesque monsters. Their noses were completely pushed up in a phantom of the opera look. Their hair had gone from silky, thick brown to thin, scraggily clumps. Their sunken cheeks accentuated their large mouths and jagged teeth. They looked at each other and giggled… cackled.

Tony could hear more voices behind him, but couldn’t turn to see even if he wanted to. This all had to be hallucinations. Either Alex put something in his drink or he was just exhausted to a point where one drink, in combination with that weird ass dream, had sent him over the edge. A plane full of ordinary people didn’t just turn into a plane full of… of what? Alex was talking again.

“Everyone back off. Let’s give Mr. Pace some room to stretch out. We want him to be comfortable for the in flight meal don’t we?” This brought more cackling from the twins and muffled whispers from others. Alex reached down to the aisle seat beside him, released some kind of catch, lifted the seat and tossed it a couple of rows back like a piece of doll furniture. Tony tried to lift his hands, but they felt like they were glued to the seat.

Alex released a latch on his seat and lowered him back to a point where his head was lower than his feet. When she did, she came back into his vision. She had similar features of the twins, but her teeth were more turned in and actually seemed to be vibrating in her gums. Not much, but enough to make it look like each tooth was alive. Her bent over position also revealed Alex’s most excellent body had taken a turn for the worse right along with her face. The once firm size “C” breasts sagged into wrinkled tubes dangling in her gaping uniform top. Tony could feel a scream building up in his throat, but nothing came out but a weak gasp.

From his stretched out position, he could see the old couple from a few rows back standing behind him. Small strings of spit hung from their gaped mouths. A long black tongue, slithered from the old woman’s mouth, licked her split lips and slid back in. They looked like starved dogs waiting on someone to throw them a piece of meat, and Tony had a good idea what, or who, the piece of meat might be.

Alex undid the buttons on his shirt, exposing his white T-shirt. She bunched up the soft, white fabric and proceeded to cut it down the middle with one of her long jagged nails. This brought a stir from the group, and Tony saw the attractive couple, which weren’t so attractive now, start to push their way past the twins. Alex looked back at them. Her eyes blazed, and she growled like a rabid dog. Her teeth clicking and rubbing together. The couple took a step back whining like hyenas backed off a zebra carcass by a lion.

Tony felt his heart pounding and fought to stay conscious. His downward angle made his head feel like an over-inflated basketball. He could feel the veins in his head pulsing with blood. He tried to move his arm again and only his fingers moved, but they did move.

“Do it Alex. Do it!” the twins hissed. Alex moved her face towards Tony. Her teeth vibrated against each other making a soft grinding sound.

In-Flight Meal pt. 2

At first, he thought maybe he just had the wrong angle, but through the dim glow of the dash, he could see himself reflected over the headrest of the driver’s seat. It had to be an optical illusion of some kind, but before he could work it out, the car stopped.

Mr. Long got out and walked around to Tony’s door. He opened it and stepped off to the side assuming the professional chauffer position. “Here we are Mr. Pace.” Tony looked out and up at Mr. Long. Mr. Long stood perfectly still, staring straight ahead. Tony slid from the car keeping as much distance between himself and Mr. Long as he could.

Directly in front of the car the Dark Flight Airlines MD88 sat with its engines idling. It looked enormous from Tony’s perspective. As much as he’d flown, this was the first time he had ever been on the ground looking up at an aircraft of this size. He had looked up at plenty of the fifty passenger puddle jumpers where you would walk out on the tarmac and up the steps to the plane, but never one like this.

The words Dark Flight Airlines ran down the side of the sleek silver plane in black letters about six feet tall. They started out in sharp block font slanted slightly forward as if they were leaning into the wind, then trailed off to where the ‘S’ of Airlines flowed out like black satin flapping in the wind.

Red lights on the back of the wings and tail slowly flashed in unison alternately bathing Tony in an eerie red glow then back to darkness. He could see light in the small windows running along the length of the plane, but at this angle, he couldn’t see in. A set of stairs led up to a mobile jetport against the plane to allow access inside.

Tony heard a thump and physically jumped. He spun around to see Mr. Long with his hand on the car’s door, grinning at him and for the first time, actually looking him in the eye. Tony knew it had to be the shadows created by the red lights, but he could swear Mr. Long’s nose was sharper and more turned down than before, and his thin white lips now looked to be struggling to cover his teeth.

The red light faded out, and Tony saw Mr. Long’s pupils grow to large black circles. The red lights flashed back on and reflected from Mr. Long’s eyes like an animal. Tony’s heart was thudding in his chest, and he felt gooseflesh crawl up his arms.

“Mr. Pace. Please hurry. We can’t wait forever.” Tony turned to the sound of the voice and =saw what appeared to be a nicely built woman silhouetted in the doorway at the top of the steps. Her pleasant voice momentarily took some of the edge off Tony’s nerves, then he remembered Mr. Long, his shining eyes and bulging mouth. He turned back half expecting to see him bearing down on him with long searching fingers, but Mr. Long and the black Cadillac were gone. “Mr. Pace?” Tony looked back up the steps. “Is there a problem?” Yeah, a whole shit load Tony thought and headed up the steps.

***

As it turned out, the woman was nicely built and had the looks to go with it. Her coal black hair flowed behind her in a thick ponytail. Her dark eyes danced above high cheekbones and a perfect smile. Her black uniform was form fitting and low cut. Finally, things were starting to look better.

“It is very fortunate you were able to make our flight Mr. Pace. At this time of night there isn’t much available.” There didn’t seem to be anything sinister in her voice, which was a big relief and an excellent change from Mr. Long. “My name is Alex, and I will be taking care of you tonight.” Her smile widened a bit, and Tony could see her teeth were perfect too. Almost too perfect, like dentures, but there was no way a hot looking woman, of what looked to be about twenty, could have dentures. Tony decided to just accept it as an added bonus to a beautiful smile, and the idea of Alex taking care of him tonight sounded like an excellent plan indeed.

“Thanks Alex. I’m glad I made the flight too.” Tony looked directly into her dark eyes and found it difficult to break away. It was almost hypnotic. He felt himself trying to say something else when she stepped into the plane breaking the momentary trance.

“Welcome aboard,” Alex said.

Tony blinked, dismissing the feeling as nothing more than her intoxicating looks and the weariness of a long day. “Ah yeah, thanks,” Tony said, stepping through the doorway.

Just when he thought things couldn’t get any better, Tony looked at a plane full of first-class seats. Two wide leather seats on each side and far enough apart Tony thought they were probably fully reclining. The wider seats and the fact they were only two per side reduced the total capacity of the plane to about fifty, and most of the seats were empty. An attractive couple in the front seats looked up at Tony, smiled, and then looked back down at their magazines. Tony smiled back and looked at his boarding pass for his seat number. 13D Exit row. Even better yet.

He started down the aisle towards his seat. An older man, sharply dressed, smiled up at him from 5B. Two teenage girls, that looked like they were twins, sat in 8A and 8B. They were both looking at him, then one whispered something in the other’s ear, and they both giggled. They looked back up at him with a look that told Tony maybe he still had it at thirty eight after all. Tony smiled back and went past. Rows nine, ten, eleven, and twelve were all empty.

A man with chiseled features and dark slicked back hair sat in 13A. He was wearing a black dress type T-shirt outlining his muscular chest. A tattoo of a snake weaving its way in and from what looked like a goat's skull donned his right arm just below the sleeve. He wore dark sunglasses, which made it impossible for Tony to tell if he was looking at him or not.

Tony nodded a hello towards the man and got no reaction. Nice guy Tony thought. He looked past row 13 at the remaining seats and saw only an older couple that both gave him a casual glance. He threw his overnight bag under the aisle seat in front of him and slid over by the window.

He looked at the operating instructions on the exit door. It displayed a series of pictures portraying a dark figure pulling down the T shaped release handle and pushing the door out. The last picture showed the figure stepping from the opening while looking back. Something about the figure’s long skinny arms and odd shaped head made the skin on Tony’s arms prickle. He looked closer and thought he could see two small red dots on the figure’s face.

“How’s your seat Mr. Pace?”

Tony sucked in a breath and about dropped his boarding pass.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to startle you Mr. Pace,” Alex said apologetically.

“That’s all right, don’t worry about it,” Tony said. “I’ve just had a long day.” He leaned back in the seat, trying to settle his heart. The seats were as comfortable as they looked, and Tony knew it wouldn’t take long to fall asleep. “It’s great. Thanks.” Alex smiled and walked back towards the front of the plane.

Tony took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He knew he had to get a grip on himself before somebody decided he was a terrorist and kicked him off the plane. He glanced down at his boarding pass still folded up in his hand. He unfolded the heavy paper and really looked at it for the first time. In the top left corner was Dark Flights inked out in the same script as on the side of the plane. Directly below that was the flight number, date, origin and departure time. Under this was the departure gate of DF1, the destination city, and in print so small Tony had to squint to read it, were the words In flight meal will be served. In flight meal. Tony chuckled. He hadn't' seen that since the late nineties.

His stomach gave a low rumble and Tony realized he hadn’t eaten anything since the Quarter Pounder meal at eleven thirty that morning. He had no idea what the meal might be, but the way everything else was laid out in this plane he figured it would be pretty good.

Folding the boarding pass, he slid it into his shirt pocket and glanced over at 13A. His sunglasses were close enough to his face Tony couldn’t see his eyes, but with his head tilted slightly forward he assumed 13A was asleep.

A soft tone bonged from a speaker above Tony’s head, followed by the smooth and pleasant voice of the pilot. “Welcome aboard Dark Flight Airlines. I’m Captain Winters. We’ll be cruising at 37,000 feet and have an expected flight time of approximately one hour and forty-five minutes. The air up there should be smooth so as soon as we reach our cruising altitude I will be tuning off the seat belt sign so that you can all move about the cabin.” Tony heard the engines rev up and felt the plane move forward. “We will be number one for take off so Alex please take your seat.” Tony crossed his legs in the roomy space between the seats and looked out the window.

A good distance from where the plane was now taxiing he could see the small lights of the main terminal and the dark shape of the tower looming behind it. Beacons slowly flashed on the top of the tower, and Tony could see light spilling from the windows, but it was too far to make out anything inside. Blue lights, sticking up from the ground in small wire cages, flashed past below him as Dark Flights Airlines flight number DF3332 rolled towards the main runway.

The plane made a sharp right turn revving the engines to full throttle as it straightened out. Tony felt himself being pushed back into the soft leather seat and closed his eyes. DF3332 roared down the runway, lifted its nose and magically raised all eighty tons of itself into the air. He was already drifting off to sleep as the wheels bumped into place in the belly of the plane.

***

Mr. Long was looking at him through the rearview mirror in the long black Caddie, except the only thing visible in the mirror were two shining red orbs surrounded by a burning yellow. Tony went for the door handle only to find the inside of the door was completely smooth. No handle for the door, no button for the window and nothing to unlock it. The car came to an abrupt stop, and Tony had to put his hand on the front seat to avoid being thrown into it. He looked up and could see Mr. Long’s pointed ears poking out from his thin gray hair.

“Is there a problem Mr. Pace?” Mr. Long’s voice was low and guttural. He slowly turned his head to look back at Tony. As he turned, Tony could see his features come into focus. They pulsed with a red light that seemed to come in from everywhere. It was like the sky was filled with blood red lightning.

“I… I…” Tony tried to scream, but it felt like his throat was full of mud, and nothing came out but muffled grunts. He clawed at the door and felt his fingernails catch on something peeling two of them back. The grotesque face, with a nose that looked more like a beak, was grinning back at him. Large pointed teeth gleamed in the pulsing red light.

Tony pushed himself as far back in the seat as possible. Instead of the sleek smooth feel of leather, the seat now felt and smelled more like the soft rotten flesh of a bloated corpse. Suddenly, black wrinkled hands with ragged yellow nails burst through the seat behind him and gripped his arms, sucking him back into the fleshy material. Another hand pushed out, sending a spray of black gore spattering across the inside of the car. It slapped its wet palm across Tony’s forehead and yanked his head back stretching and exposing his neck.

He jerked and thrashed, but the black hands only tightened further. Mr. Long’s grin widened. Clear globs, made pink by the strange light, dripped from two-inch long canines. Tony felt his eyes bulging from their sockets and could hear the tendons in his neck snapping like rubber bands. Mr. Long lunged. Jaws snapping so fast Tony could hear the teeth making a whirring sound as they raced toward his stretched out throat.

***

Tony woke up willing himself not to scream. Huge beads of sweat clung to his forehead and trickled down the sides of his face like salty pearls. At first, he was disoriented and didn’t know where he was, but the soft bumping of mild turbulence and the constant low roar of the jet engines brought him back to reality.

In-Flight Meal pt. 1

“Oh come on, it’s not even raining! How can there be a two-hour weather delay? There’s no way I can wait that long.” Tony Pace had a decision to make. Should he be shitty or nice about this little set back in his plans? Sometimes nice worked and sometimes shitty did, and Tony had been doing the travel game long enough to know there was a time and place for either method.

He looked close at the US Air agent across the counter. She had short brown hair, was about twenty pounds overweight, had either a huge bug bite or a rather impressive zit on her left temple, and her breath reminded him of raw meat. None of that mattered though; it was always the eyes that told the real story. Tony shifted his gaze from the red bump on the agent’s left temple to her eyes.

It only took a second to know. Shitty it is. It had nothing to do with the color, size or shape of her eyes, it was the fact they were looking over his shoulder and said in a very loud voice she couldn’t give one shit less if he made this flight or any other within the next two weeks.

“Ok, listen. I have been jacked around ” Tony also knew when it was time to start dropping the F bomb, and he wasn’t there yet, “ for the last three hours. Your 'accommodating' airline has seen to it that I have been bumped and delayed to the point where the chance of making the biggest sales call of my life is almost nonexistent. I know for a fact you can get me on another flight that will get me to Chicago tonight.”

Tony was on a roll. Little Ms Ticket agent was getting that most uncomfortable I’ll do anything to get this guy out of my face look. “The only reason you wouldn’t get me on another flight is to try to save a billion dollar company a couple of hundred bucks. Now you can either try to find me another flight or I can stay here and continue to give you my opinion in increasingly higher decibels for as long as it takes for you to be accommodating!”

“Well just wait one minute Mr. Pace. I didn’t say I wasn’t willing to help you.” The agent looked around anxiously apparently to make sure the always curious crowd wasn’t making its way toward the loud voices and out of the ordinary action. Tony noticed what she was doing, and at close to midnight, he didn’t think there would be much chance of a crowd developing even if he decided to drop the ol’ F bomb in large, lavish waves.

“There is one airline that may be able to accommodate you.”

Ah yes, shitty wins again, Tony thought.

“It’s called Dark Flight Airlines. They only offer red-eye flights and sometimes have one or two openings. I’ll call to see if they have anything available.”

Tony had never heard of Dark Flight Airlines, but at this point, he didn’t really care, as long as they could get him back to Chicago in time to get at least a few hours of sleep before his appointment.

“Thank you,” Tony said, making sure the agent knew that now she was helping, he would make life much easier on her. She clicked away on her keyboard, staring intently at the monitor.

Tony looked around the nearly deserted airport. Tulsa never was very busy, but there were usually more people than this. Fifty feet down the counter, a couple of people were using the American Airlines self-serve kiosk and talking in low tones. A little further, a blue uniformed custodial type was easing a squeaky wheeled trashcan across the tile floor guiding it with the handle of a broom or mop sticking from the can. The trashcan was draped with a bright yellow canvas pouch holding an assortment of brushes, cleaning fluids, and discarded magazines.

The couple at the kiosk left, leaving the squeaky wheels and the clicking keyboard the only sounds to be heard. Tony felt an odd case of the creeps working its way in and pushed it back.

“Kind of quiet around here…” Tony looked at the tag that dangled from a red cord worn around the agent’s neck. “…isn’t it Anna?” He was trying to undo some of the shitty mood he had bestowed on her just moments ago, but the way she didn’t even acknowledge him, told Tony it wasn’t working.

“Okay, they do have availability. It’s a window seat. I assume that will be okay for you Mr. Pace?” The sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable, but Tony knew he had that coming.

“Yes Anna, it is. Look, I’m sorry I got kind of nasty with you, it’s just that I’ve had a long day, and this meeting really means a lot to me. I appreciate you taking the time to get me on... Dark Airlines?”

“Dark Flight Airlines, Mr. Pace, and it was my pleasure to do so.” Anna handed the boarding pass to Tony. When he took the card, he inadvertently touched her hand. Her fingers were so cold Tony had to force himself from wincing. He looked up to see her smiling at him. There was something about that smile Tony didn’t like. It wasn’t just fake, it was knowing. Like when someone has one up on you, but telling you would spoil all the fun.

“The flight leaves from gate DF1, and you better hurry Mr. Pace, the plane has already boarded. I have a feeling they will wait for you, but you never know.” Her smile widened, which only enhanced the feeling she knew something he didn’t.

“DF1? I didn’t know Tulsa even had a DF concourse.” Maybe that was the joke. Maybe there wasn’t even a Dark Flight Airlines, and she was just getting shitty with him on a much higher level.

“It’s a small sub building off the main concourse so you will need to take a shuttle. Like I said, they only offer red-eye flights so they don’t really warrant one of the main gates.”

“How do I get to the shuttle?” If one even exists, Tony thought. I’ll probably end up outside the airport and get arrested by security before I even –

“Mr. Long will take you,” Anna said, glancing behind Tony.

Tony turned around. It was Mr. Long all right, Mr. Long, Dark and Ugly. Mr. Long stood easily over six foot four, and his black suit made him look more like an undertaker than an airline worker. He returned Tony’s stare standing with his hands clasped in front of him in a gesture you might see a chauffer take while waiting beside his car. The fluorescent lighting reflected off a mostly bald head rimmed with white hair. His deep set eyes were hidden in shadow, and a long hooked nose hung out over thin white lips.

“This way, Mr. Pace.” Mr. Long’s deep monotone voice broke the silence as he stretched out one pale hand. Either this was one very elaborate joke or there really was a Dark Flight Airlines, and he really was going to get to Chicago tonight. Tony turned back to try one more time to reconcile with Anna, but she was gone. He looked down the line of counters, and saw no one. Somewhere in another part of the terminal, he could just hear the squeak… squeak… squeak of the blue uniformed custodial guy's wheeled trashcan.

Tony bent down and picked up his overnight bag. “I guess she was in a hurry to-” but Mr. Long was already walking away, taking long slow steps, hands still clasped in front of him. His black polished shoes clacked on the hard tile floor. Tony followed him, this time not able to push back the creeps.

***

Midway down a long corridor, Mr. Long opened an unmarked metal door and stepped through. A few feet from the door, a set of steps led down to another door Tony assumed opened to the outside. There were about fifteen steps, which Mr. Long took as slow and deliberate as he walked. One bare bulb at the top of the steps and one at the bottom provided the only light. Strings of drifting cobwebs adorned the unpainted block walls where they met the ceiling.

Tony couldn't imagine this was the only way to the shuttle. Even if Dark Flights only offered red-eyes, there should still be enough people to constitute a real live entrance, and what about security? How do you just walk out on the tarmac without even going through a metal detector? Tony thought, hoped, it would be at the DF concourse, which would bring some welcomed normalcy to this whole thing. Tony smiled, realizing this was the first time he actually wanted to go through security. Taking a deep breath, he took the first step down.

“So how is security over at DF? Think they will hold me up much?” Tony’s voice sounded empty and dead in the narrow damp stairway. Mr. Long either didn’t hear him or didn’t care to respond because he just continued his slow step by step decent to the lower door. Tony couldn't believe he was actually following 'Lurch' to some unknown terminal of the Tulsa International Airport just to get a sales opportunity.

Of course, this sale would mean a whole new lifestyle. A lifestyle most people could never know, a lifestyle most have only dreamed about, a lifestyle worth dealing with a freakazoid airport guy and some obscure airline. Tony tried to drive these thoughts home as he descended the dark steps behind the strange tall man in the dark suit.

Mr. Long got to the bottom of the steps and pushed open the door. Tony was about eight steps behind, but could see the door did open onto the tarmac. Mr. Long, like the good host that he was, held the door while Tony came down the rest of the stairs and stepped through.

The shuttle, as it turned out, was a black Cadillac. The body style gave it a late 70’s look, but it was in excellent shape. Mr. Long, Dark, and Ugly let the door to the stairs swing shut with a bang, walked over to the car, and opened the back door for Tony. As he held the door, he stared straight ahead, never making eye contact and not saying a word.

The dome light in the car was dim, and deep shadows filled the backseat. To Tony, the open door didn’t look inviting. Instead it made him feel like he was being given a ride to the slaughterhouse, and he was the livestock. “Nice ride Mr. Long. Is it yours?” Tony walked over to the car and looked in.

“No. We should get moving Mr. Pace. You don’t have much time left.”

Tony looked at Mr. Long and thought he saw the faintest bit of a smile at the corner of his mouth, but if it was there, it disappeared as quickly as it formed. Yeah? What’s so funny, Mr. L.D. and U? You and Ms Anna pulling a good one on me? Tony wanted to yell this in Long’s face, but decided it would probably be better to keep it to himself and just go along with their little joke.

He tossed his bag in the backseat and slid in. Once inside, he winced. The inside of the car smelled like a combination of Old Spice and what? He wasn’t sure. Something that reminded him of his garden. Tilling? Maybe freshly turned dirt? Now that would be a first, Old Spice and dirt. Tony felt his stomach roll and thought for sure the weird ass smell was going to make him puke.

Mr. Long pushed the door closed, a little hard Tony thought, and walked around the front of the car. With the dome light out, the inside of the car was pitch black. Tony looked out the window and saw the surrounding area to be just as dark. The thought of an airport not lit up like a mall parking lot sent the first real thread of something like concern through Tony's veins. Mr. Long opened the driver’s door, sat down behind the wheel and started the car.

The engine was so quiet Tony wasn’t even sure it was running until they started moving. The main terminal with its comforting lit windows slipped away behind them like a silent movie as they rolled onto a tarmac as dark as a tomb.

He blindly ran his fingers along the armrest of the door searching for the window button. “Hey Mr. Long. How can I get a little air here? I can’t seem to find the button and-” The window slid open a couple of inches letting in the relatively pleasant smell of jet fuel and asphalt.

He leaned over to look into the rearview mirror. “Thanks Mr. Long. Not sure what it was, but it was just a little-” Tony felt his balls retreat into his body. There was no reflection of Mr. Long in the mirror.

To Be A Monster pt 5 (written by Mark Jackson)

Cheryl not only felt her eyes leave their sockets… she heard them. The pain wasn’t as excruciating as she feared when they swelled and then shot from her skull to dangle on the sides of her down-turned face. The pain was more of an ache, but the worst part was the pop, pop sound and the cold sensation of air entering her head through two new openings that should never exist.

At first, her vision was like watching a TV with a skipping signal. She saw Gwen, then the sky, then back to Gwen, and then the pale faced onlookers, which she registered as moving her way. When her eyes settled on their stretched optic nerves, thin veins sprouted from the dangling orbs like strands of blue thread and fastened themselves to Cheryl’s forehead.

Her head, still in the upside-down position, stretched away from her body on an elongating neck with a series of snaps, crackles, and pops. She pushed herself up on her hands and feet into a rather ugly, yet well formed crab walk position. Her breasts, now pointing toward the sky from her concave chest, burst open loosing a mass of squirming black tentacles while stiff tufts of bristling hair cropped up on various areas of her body. With her mouth now up and the top of her head down, her hair hung in what appeared to be a blood matted beard.

“Damn Cheryl, you really look like shit,” Gwen said, smirking.

Taffy laughed while the crow offered up an unpleasant chuckle.

Things were not going the way Cheryl had planned... no, correction, that was the understatement of the year… this was a complete fuckeroo if there ever was one, and now on top of everything else, her stomach was rolling like a mother fucker. Shaking it off, she tested her mobility. She took a shambling step and nearly fell in a heap, but managed to catch herself with her newly positioned hands / feet.

“I will have to say, George, that is one of the most ridiculous monsters I’ve ever seen.”

Cheryl twisted her head to see the onlookers from the funeral home join the party. She wondered why these crazy fucks weren’t running home to mamma when she realized they were all semi-transparent and in various stages of decay. The one who called her pathetic had a majority of her face sagging down on the front of her black dress. George, whoever the fuck that was, had a hole in the top of his head the size of a tennis ball like he had taken the chicken shit way out of life.

“That she is Gladys, that she is,” George said, nodding his ruined head. The others joined the nodding and Cheryl saw the nose fall off a rather large black man and into the front pocket of his shirt.

She focused her attention back on Gwen. “You fucking bitch. You brought this on me didn’t you?” A stabbing pain racked her abdomen with such force she nearly collapsed. “Don’t even tell me I’m starting my period. Monsters are not supposed to have periods. They’re supposed-” Another cramp hit her with a vengeance and she felt something swelling in her intestines.

“Unbelievable,” growled Taffy. “What an idiot. Of course, I don’t know why that should surprise me after having to live with her stupid ass for the last five years.”

Gwen reached down and affectionately stroked Taffy’s blond fur. “Come, come Cheryl. How can you say I brought this on when you were the one who just rolled over and went back to sleep leaving me to choke on my own vomit.” As if to emphasize this, Gwen coughed spewing pale orange fluid from her mouth in a chunky spray.

“You’re the one who couldn’t hold her booze,” Cheryl hissed. “What was I supposed to do? Take the drinks out of your hand? Pump your fucking stomach?” Another cramp hit Cheryl and this time it was punctuated with a rather large wet fart.

“And classy too,” Taffy said, rolling her eyes.

“You see Cheryl, thanks to you, my spirit was cursed to spend eternity walking the earth with a throat full of puke. You know how hard it is to pick up a cute dead guy when all you can do is gurgle out puke breath? It’s damn hard.” Gwen coughed again, peppering George’s black suit with flesh colored chunks. George looked down, plucked off the biggest piece and popped it in his mouth. But before his could chew it up, it dropped through a hole under his chin and stuck back on his suit. Cheryl grinned and continued.

“However, all was not lost as I was able to make a deal with someone who has become a very close friend of mine.” She winked at the crow, which winked back. “A sort of two for one deal so to speak.”

“Yeah? Well I think that’s bullshit because if you really had a throat full of puke you would just be gargling away like you did that night I left you laying on your back. You sounded like a damn percolating coffee pot, and I couldn’t wait for it to stop so I could go back to sleep.” Cheryl winced as another cramp hit hard below the navel. Despite the pain she was starting to get a feel for her developing form. She took a couple of quick steps to one side, then the other, her hands and feet making dull thudding sounds in the thick grass.

“Oh, that the beauty of it, Cheryl. Thanks to you killing your little brother I was credited with one of the two hell bound souls needed to complete my deal, so now I’m only coughing up puke every few minutes, which is not bad, but not good.” She smiled as if humoring herself, “You know poor Billy never was one to believe in God and Satan, but I’ll bet he has a whole new perspective on it now.”

Cheryl couldn’t care less if Billy was with God, Satan, or the fucking man on the moon. Right now, her situation was the only thing that mattered. “And what if I don’t kill anyone else? What then?” Cheryl stretched her neck, bobbing her head up and down like an ostrich. She glanced at the suited up zombies who all wore smug grins on their rotting faces. She made a quick move in their direction dissipating two back to whence they came and causing the noseless black dude to knock Gladys down to the ground with a squish.

Gwen laughed. “See, you’re starting to like your new self already, and as far as you not killing anyone else… that’s like saying I haven’t been tasting my last Quarter-Pounder with cheese for the last six months.”

Cheryl was only half listening to her cousin as the pain in her guts increased to near apocalyptic levels. She was reminded of the time she had taken on the Eat the guacamole burrito as big as your head and get it for free challenge and spent the next five hours glued to the toilet. She started crab-walking in tight circles screaming and cursing, all to the amusement of the crowd. Stopping suddenly, she arched her back, which was really her stomach, and pushed.

She had never had a baby but if she had, she felt sure this was worse. Other than the fact this was popping from her ass, what appeared to be the top of a head crowned, stretching her bung strings to an impossible diameter. Something brown and hair covered slipped out, shooting from her ass and passing through the spirit of the black noseless guy before he had time to yell ‘you crazy mofo bitch’. Gwen jumped back stepping on Taffy who cursed her existence, and sending the crow squawking from one shoulder to the other.

Grunting and screaming, Cheryl pushed again, this time resulting in a world class episiotomy ripping its way from her stretched-out bung clear to her swollen mud flaps as Billy’s skull popped out and landed on the ground like rotten gourd. Partially liquefied brains spilled from the eye sockets forming a gray pool around the grinning skull.

Cheryl stared at the expulsion thinking how wrong she had been to ever call Billy a little shit.

“Now that looks rather tasty,” Taffy said strolling over the mess.

Cheryl twisted her head and cocked back her neck. She couldn’t believe this damned cat. Oh Taffy, you’ve made two major mistakes in my book. One is having ever been born, and two-

The fat cat walked up to Billy’s skull, giving it a sniff.

-is getting within my striking distance.

Cheryl shot her head forward while stretching her mouth open as wide as a bear trap. With one great snap, the only remaining evidence of Taffy was its fluffy tail dropping to the ground.

“It’s too bad cats don’t have souls,” Gwen said in matter of fact tone. “or my part in these theatrics would be thankfully over.”

Cheryl crunched up the cat, enjoying the hot juices as they ran down her throat and then swallowed it in two great gulps. Best pussy I’ve ever eaten, she thought, licking her lips. She then focused her forehead mounted eyeballs on Gwen and decided she didn’t give two shits if Gwen got what she wanted or not. After all, her own needs were the most important and although she hadn’t become the monster she had in mind, she was still a monster. The urge to kill and the need to feed was quickly becoming a major priority… hell, it was becoming the only priority, and her first order of business was to finish what she’d been dreaming about when this whole idea was conceived. Do away with her pathetic excuse of a mother.

Turning, she ran with amazing speed through the cemetery entrance and onto the road, her hands and feet pistoning in perfect synchronization. She couldn’t wait to see the look on her mother’s face when she tore her throat out with one big bite. As a matter of fact, she might just-

The sound of an approaching car made her stop.

***

Rita Gadowski, aka Cheryl’s mom, turned on to Bird Road, which ran past Fern Cliff Cemetery. Bob, her husband, road shotgun and looked causally out the side window.

“Where can they be?” Rita mumbled, using a finger to pick a piece of Captain Crunch from her teeth. “I know our Billy wouldn’t be out all night unless that girl of yours put him up to it.” She knew this had to have something to do with Cheryl. Stupid little bitch was always causing trouble.

“Now don’t be give me all the blame for that girl. Hell, as far as I know she’s not even mine. Probably spawn of that damned Charlie’s Chips guy you always had making deliveries when I wasn’t home.” Bob said while picking out his own chunk of breakfast.

“Just shut up Bob and keep an eye out for them.” Rita thought about rebuking his statement, but being as the dumb bastard might actually be right about the Charlie’s Chips man, she decided to leave it lay. She pulled around the curve at the cemetery entrance and wrinkled up her face in disgust. “What in the hell is that?” she asked pointing her teeth-picking finger at the shambling thing on the road directly in front of them. It looked like a giant hair-covered crab, but where in the hell would-

“I think it’s a rabid wolf or something, and I suggest you hit the gas,” Bob said grabbing the dash with both hands.

Rita didn’t think it looked anything like a rabid wolf but Bob’s idea of running the thing down was the first good idea she heard uttered from his pie hole this year. Tightening her grip on the steering wheel, she jammed the accelerator to the floor.

***

Cheryl heard the roar of an engine jumping into passing gear and spun her head around just in time to see her mom’s 1988 Buick Lesabre bearing down on her. You have to be fucking kidding me was Cheryl’s last thought as the chrome bumper hit her at 50 mph.

Her head snapped forward slamming on the car’s hood before whipping down and under the car’s chassis. A sound like a fifty-five gallon drum of Kentucky Fried Chicken being ran through a wood chipper erupted from under the car while inside, Rita looked like she was about to lose her Captain Crunch. Never slowing, the car bounced its way over Cheryl’s crumpled form and sped out of sight, leaving a trail of gore and skin behind it.

The mass of arms, legs, and worm-like tentacles lay glistening in the sun. Dark streams of blood ran across the asphalt soaking into the cracks and crevices as they went. In a flutter of wings, the crow landed beside Cheryl’s broken neck and looked into her only surviving eye. The orb responded by shifting slightly in the crow’s direction. In its reflection, Gwen could be seen walking up behind the crow.

“Well, is she dead?”

“I’d say about one breath away,” the crow whispered. With that, the dark bird beat its wings together expanding and shifting its form. Before Gwen stood a man wearing long black robes. A heavy hood cloaked his features.

The last ray of life bled from Cheryl as the man in the dark robes reached down a taloned hand and ripped the girl’s black writhing soul from her body. Her essence screamed and squirmed but made no escape from the man’s claws. He tilted back his head and sucked it into his mouth like a cancerous smoke.

“Hey,” Gwen exclaimed, running her tongue over her teeth. “My mouth tastes great! So what do you say Mr. Crow, or whatever your real name is, you doing anything the rest of this century?” She ran her tongue over her teeth again, this time a little slower.

The crow man grinned. “Mr. Crow is fine, and as tempting as that sounds, after making my delivery I need to meet with a couple of teenagers tired of carrying around their heads, which were decapitated in a drunk driving incident. I think they might be interested in a little deal I have in mind to make the man who killed them pay for surviving the accident.”

“Your loss,” Gwen said winking and then shimmering out of existence.

The crow man observed the mess on the road with the look of an artist backing away from one of their finest finished paintings. “I do love my job,” he said. Then in a rustling of robes, he turned back into the crow taking flight over the tall pines stretching up from the cemetery grounds.