Highway 46 seemed to be swallowed up by the trees on either side of it. Traffic on this stretch of highway seemed to be lighter and lighter these days.
The darkness of the night only added the illusion of the highway leading to the waiting mouth of the surrounding trees. There were no street lights here on the lonesome strip of road.
A figure walked the side of the road, a duffle bag slung over his right shoulder. In the rare event that a vehicle’s headlights rose up from behind him, he would hold out a tired arm with his thumb pointing to the south. But none of them ever stopped.
The lights would grow, as his shadow shape-shifted before his very eyes, and then, as the car passed, the light would shape-shift and his shadow would hide once again, swallowed by the same mouth that swallowed the highway.
He was handsome, dark hair parted in the middle. He was tall, muscular. Perhaps he was just down on his luck. Or maybe he was simply walking across Brown County. The man who was about to turn on his flashers and pull to the side of the road thought something else entirely. A mischievous smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. He turned on his flashers. He slowed to a stop, the gravel crunching beneath his tires as he did.
The hitchhiker turned to his ride and smiled politely with a wave before popping open the passenger door. He peered inside, a grinning skeletal face gazing back at him. The hitchhiker seemed to hesitate, his eyes lowering briefly, before thinking better of it and tossing his duffle to the backseat of the Oldsmobile resting on the shoulder. He entered himself, then closed the door behind him.
As the Oldsmobile pulled away, the driver smirked.
“Ain’t from around here, are ya son?”
“What gave me away?”
“Well,” the driver chuckled, “anyone who is from these parts wouldn’t be heading towards Gnaw Bone, especially this time of night. ‘Cept if they’re crazy, you see. Or stupit.”
The hitchhiker looked at him doubtfully.
“So what does that make you?” he asked.
“Stupit,” he said simply, then cackled loudly at himself.
After what seemed like minutes of the driver cackling, he finally inhaled deeply and looked at his passenger from the corners of his eyes.
“Well, I reckon I oughta warn ya so you know what to expect when I let you out. Gnaw Bone’s got some rules the locals always try to warn outsiders of before they come stumbling in. ‘Course they never follow ‘em. Then they get themselves kilt.”
The passenger looked at him curiously. “Oh? I’m listening.”
The driver paused, taking a long look at his passenger and veering nearly completely off the road before almost overcorrecting and flipping the car. Almost. The passenger grabbed at invisible restraints, frustrated. The driver didn’t seem to notice.
“You awful handsome, you know? You in the wrong town with a face like that. Dem Creeps liable to just rip it off and wear it on themselves, ya know?”
“Sure… maybe just drive and focus on the road, yeah?”
“Oh, don’t be sceared. Well, actually, you should be. You in the wrong town. Long’s you’re here, I’ll go over those rules no one listens to. You ready to listen, young Romeo?”
The passenger nodded. “Let’s hear ‘em, old timer.”
Rule #1: If you see an abandoned toy on the ground, do NOT grab it!
It’s usually a stuffed animal, or a doll.
It’s always bait…
Boots shuffled across the pavement, on an evening much like this one. He was from out of town, visiting a friend from high school. It had been a few years since they graduated, but he hadn’t seen her since. She had moved to Gnaw Bone almost immediately. He wasn’t sure if she had family here or not. And even though this was a small community, somehow he had gotten lost. He broke two rules. We’ll get into Rule #5 later…
He has a name, but the names of outsiders don’t mean much in Gnaw Bone. It probably does wherever he came from, but not here.
Anyway, one thing led to another and the dumb son of a bitch had car trouble about a quarter mile down the Old County 13, which is off Hollow Creek Road. How he got that deep into town is beyond me. It was sprinkling, but not enough to be much more than a minor inconvenience. The moon peeked out from behind a few dark grey clouds that drifted slowly from north to south. His boot struck something plastic, and when he looked down, he was surprised to see the doll sprawled out on the shoulder.
He bent down and grasped the doll by her waist, then stood at his full height. He heard a soft giggle. It was as if it was right behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
Startled, he dropped the doll.
Rule #1.5: Do NOT drop the doll!
THUD
Then he heard a gasp. It came from the depths of the woods next to the road. He turned on his heel. Tiny beads of sweat were starting to form at his forehead, even though the night was cool. He opened his mouth to speak, but then the soft sound of a girl weeping froze him. A weight dropped into his stomach, and his mouth had become dry. He struggled to find the saliva to lubricate his throat and find his voice.
“I…”
He cleared his throat of the gravel.
“I’m sorry. I… I didn’t realize this doll was yours. You scared me, I didn’t mean to drop it. I’m sure it’s not hurt.”
He tried to locate the weeping girl, but it became softer… and softer… and softer.
He pivoted on his heel, squinting to try to find her. He stepped towards the woods and began to move into the brush where he thought he heard the weeping.
“I’m not–uh, I’m not sure where you’re at, though.”
GIGGLE! It was a loud giggle.
He jumped and spun around. She was shorter than him, but struck fear deep into his soul, piercing eyes from beneath a porcelain mask. She reached out and down, grabbing him by his crotch. He felt his balls pressurize, then heard a liquid POP, muffled in his pants. He screamed. She giggled louder. He felt himself start to lose consciousness. That feverish feeling you get when your body knows something is very wrong with it. Usually when you break a bone, tear a muscle, bust a testicle… you know, stuff like that.
The porcelain girl shoved him to the ground in the brush. He was still screaming. Screaming and crying. She crawled on top of him and unzipped his pants. He wondered if she was assessing the damage, or worse, intending on doing more. The pain was so intense that he couldn’t tell if he was still screaming or if his vocal chords had shattered and his scream was stuck in his head, an echo bouncing about and desperate to escape. As desperate as he was to escape.
She whipped it out and gasped again, looking back and forth between his deformed member and his face. He was still screaming. Blood spurted from his groin up to his belly, staining his shirt. The porcelain girl climbed off of him, and he hoped that she was satisfied with the damage she had done.
She wasn’t.
She returned seconds later with a large rock. He tried to kick his legs out and make a space between them. It hurt like hell. The girl paused and shook her head slowly in disapproval, lifting the rock high over her head and bringing it down quickly on top of his knee cap. He belted out another miserable scream as she straddled him. He was losing feeling in the leg that she crushed with the huge rock in her hands. How did a girl as little as she was find the strength to lift that thing?
She brought the rock above her head once more, her wild and yet somehow very calm eyes gazing down at him. She brought the rock down slowly, then leaned in close to him, the lips of her mask nearly touching his ear.
“I have done to you,” she whispered, “what nature… has done to me.”
She lifted the rock up and brought it down one last time, crushing the top half of his skull.
Pisces stood from her victim, tossing the heavy rock to the side. He had stopped screaming. Stopped moving. Stopped breathing. There was an access point to the sewers nearby. She would drag him through there. But first.
She turned and walked towards County Road 13 to retrieve her doll.
“La la laaa. La la la la,” she sang cheerfully as she approached the road.
The Astro Creep had no way of knowing, but her victim had bad intentions with his old high school friend.
Rule #2: Don’t enter the house of mirrors!
“Because I’ll get lost?”
“No, you fool. Listen. A local boy told me this…”
…I was so excited when I saw that a carnival had come to town. You know, before this year, Gnaw Bone had never seen a carnival. At least, I don’t think so? I’m pretty young, so maybe my parents or grandparents can recall something before my time. But for me? This was a first.
Oh, how exciting it was! The lights? I think those may have been the most drawing part about the carnival. The lights that you could see in the otherwise dark night. And then as you entered? The smell of funnel cakes, fried meat, and cotton candy would hit you right in the face!
Anyway, the attractions were almost as inviting as the lights. There was something about that ferris wheel. It was the lights, of course, the ones that lit up the words “Gnaw Bone” on one side and a skull on the other. There was another ride called “The Corpse Grinder” that I never made it to, because this first attraction I went to frightened me so badly, I ran home. I didn’t dare look over my shoulder.
It was the House of Mirrors. As I neared, I walked past this attractive blonde woman that seemed almost out of place, but at the same time, seemed to fit right in. I remember thinking, “Gosh, I really want to try their fried twinkies after this.”
I showed the carnival attendant my bracelet. There was something about him that seemed odd. He nodded, but I could smell something skunkish on him. My dad said it’s weed.
I walked into the entrance, and…
I don’t know, it just seemed like all of the sounds, the smells, the atmosphere, just sort of… collapsed. I don’t know how else to describe it. It was like a vacuum cleaner rolled over the entrance and sucked all of those things from existence. And I was standing there, in a room with black walls.
And mirrors.
But it had to be the strangest House of Mirrors on the planet.
I never saw my own reflection, see. When I stepped towards the mirrors… I saw the clown.
He stood, tall and thin, like a clown skeleton. His eyes seemed to focus on something up and to the left. I looked at first, but by the time I left here, I realized it was just him. That’s just how he was. There wasn’t anything there. He smiled. It was a vacant, emotionless smile. I truly believe that the first reflection was his true form. The others? I just don’t think they were. I can’t tell you how or why I feel that way, but I do. And I somehow know that it’s the truth.
When I turned, I saw a nearly identical reflection of the clown. But there was one anomaly: His facepaint was different. Instead of black with red outlines, it was blue with black outlines. And the next mirror? He wasn’t smiling at all. And the next one? He was smiling, but his eyes were staring directly at me! I just wanted out at this point. I rushed through, but there he was in every mirror.
In this one, his suspenders were covered in blood. In the next one, he wept instead of smiled. In the one after that, his eyes actually followed me!
There were so many versions of that clown, I thought I was going insane.
You know, I think maybe I still am. None of what I’ve told, or what I think, even makes any sense. But, there was one part that chilled me to my spine, and it may seem silly, or maybe it won’t.
When I had completely lost hope, and thought that I was going to be trapped here in this House of Clowns for the rest of my existence, I felt him. I felt him wrap an arm around my shoulders, and guide me. I looked up at one point, despite my fear, and my eyes met his, with that impossible smile glued to his face. But he guided me to the exit and out of there. And when I stepped out?
The sounds came back. The smells came back. Everything came back as if I had never stepped inside that House of Mirrors. I know it sounds so small, but… there’s something about it that makes me never want to go to a carnival again.
“I know that’s a shorter one, but to be honest witcha, this clown fella just started to appear ‘round here. I don’t know much about him.”
“And you do the others?” the hitchhiker inquired.
“No,” the driver said simply. “There’s another new face, too. I don’t know much about her, but I do know one thing, and you can set your watch and warrant on this one.”
Rule #3: Do not flirt with the dead!
“Now there’s another new one came around ‘bout the same time as the clown… Don’t really know anything about her, though.”
“Is that right? Nothing at all?”
“Nope, just that she’s purtier than the rest of ‘em. And she knows it.”
Near the western end of town, there’s a gas station. Ideally, he would rather stop in a nicer town, a bigger town. One that has a nice gas station. But, he ran it too low this time and had to stop at the closest one he could get to. He was heading south on a business trip. It was a trip he’d taken a hundred times. He had never stopped in Gnaw Bone. He had never even heard of Gnaw Bone, actually.
He saw her coming just as he began pumping gas. She was dressed in skimpy, torn clothes that had been ripped to shreds and barely qualified as clothes at all. Her hair was a strange crimson color, and looked wet, strands of it hanging in her eyes. And her eyes, they were unnaturally a reddish color. Contacts, he figured. An unsettling smile spread across her face.
Great, he thought. The town methhead has found me.
As she approached him, he actually found that she was surprisingly attractive. At least, parts of her were. She did have an incredible body, he noticed as she stepped into the light. Her face looked like it could have once been extremely attractive. But, there was something very uncomfortable about her. He dismissed it as the drugs that she had probably been taking. Must have been some pretty hard ones too, she was very young. Too bad.
“Hi,” she said, stopping in front of his car. She was giving him a little space, anyway. Thank God for small favors. He forced a smile.
“Hello,” he said.
“Do I look okay?” she asked, her head tilting forward, and her gaze locking onto his. He stole a look at her breasts, which were so goddamned exposed he couldn’t believe he didn’t see her nipples.
“Uh, yeah,” he said, a nervous laugh escaping him. Her smile somehow grew. If the cheshire cat was undead, that’s about who she looked like.
“Just okay?” she took a step towards him, one long leg crossing the other in her stride. She continued to lock her eyes onto him.
“Sorry,” he said, shifting nervously. “You look great.”
Her smile widened even more. “Liar.”
She moved in closer, her fingertips running along his shiny red car.
“Would you kiss me?”
Shocked, he tried to stutter a response.
“I saw what you were looking at. Would you marry me? Would you die for me?”
She made one big stride with each question. Finally, he stopped pumping gas, even though it wasn’t full, and put the nozzle back into its holder abruptly. Backing away, he held out his hands. She grabbed them.
And put his hands on her breasts. Tilting her head back, she inhaled deeply and moaned. Then, she suddenly stopped. Her head snapped forward and her eyes focused on the ring on his finger.
“What the fuck is that!?”
“Uh, it’s a wedding ring,” he said, trying to pull his hands away. She smacked them away, hard enough to leave red marks on the tops of his hands.
“You just told me you would marry me!”
“N-no I didn’t! You’re crazy!”
She stopped mid-stride.
“I’m… crazy?”
He sighed, trying desperately to think of a way out of this and get back on the road. One thing was for sure, he would never put himself in a position like this again. Either fill up before he left, or wait until he hit somewhere like Elizabethtown. No more of this backwoods bullshit.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sure you’re a real nice girl. But…”
“I’m… crazy?” she repeated, her eyes slowly moving from the ground up to his face.
Without really knowing why, he took off. He ran away.
GIGGLE!
He tripped over someone’s leg and went face first into the gravel on the side of the road.
OOMPH!
Dazed, he rolled over on his back. What he saw staring down at him was terrifying. It was her. But it was also–
“Pisces… keep this one alive.”
The girl in the porcelain mask nodded in silence. He screamed, but not as loud as the other guy.
Rule #4: Never give a Creep attention!
They hunger for it…
They thrive on it…
“...and what most folks don’t seem to understand? The rules that apply to everyone else don’t apply to ‘dem kind. And how does that saying go, about tempting the devil? I don’t remember it, but that’s exactly what you don’t want to do with these people. They’re doing the devil’s work, all right. And when you call out to them? It’s like saying ‘Candyman’ in the mirror. It’s like getting out your Ouija board and inviting the haunting to come to you. Lot of people out there do it. Think it can’t happen to them, just like to tempt the devil. I think most of it is, they don’t believe in the devil. But they should. ‘Cuz he’s here, right down the road in Gnaw Bone, Indi-fuckin-ana.”
The notification from X triggered a home made notification over the home made PA system that was wired throughout the farmhouse. The computer in the center of the room sat like a talisman. There was movement in the house, footsteps from the upstairs floorboards, bare feet smacking on the concrete stairs that descended to the basement, boots clicking against the wood planks on the main level.
Daedalus was the first to approach the computer. He smirked at the notification symbol on the screen as he slid into the chair in front of it. Tempest was next, followed by Kosnar and Rictus, and finally Pisces and Purity, the two girls of the family. They all huddled over the screen.
“Griffin Hawkins,” Daedalus said with a smile. “He’s a fool.”
Rictus tapped Daedalus on the shoulder.
“Yeah? You want this one?”
Daedalus looked to Kosnar for confirmation, passing over Purity.
“Maybe I wanted him,” Purity said, butting in, her unsettling smile faltering ever so slightly.
“Maybe you should have spoken up before Rictus,” he retorted, then looked back at Kosnar, who looked at Rictus with amusement.
“Break a leg,” he said, giving him a pat on the shoulder.
“Whose?” Rictus asked, his expression never changing, his eyes never quite making contact with Kosnar’s. The rest of the group chuckled, but Rictus remained quiet, waiting for direction.
“He’s not the only one,” Daedalus warned. “It seems that we are gaining a lot of attention on this platform. Resurrection isn’t for the weak, no?”
He chuckled and responded to the notification.
“Do you actually think any of them will ever be stupid enough to come to Gnaw Bone?” Kosnar asked arrogantly. Daedalus paused, slowly looking over his shoulder at the tall man.
“Yes,” he said simply. “For them, we are an attraction. ‘Oh look at the Astro Creeps, it will be fun to pick a fight with them!’”
His face went grim. “Until it’s not.”
“Yeah!” Purity shouted all of a sudden. “They don’t know who they’re fucking with!”
“It looks like we’ve got a long list of people who think they want to know us,” Tempest said. He was soft-spoken, but his voice was rough, like he had a throat filled with gravel.
“So we do,” Daedalus said with a smile.
“Say,” Purity interrupted. “What do ya think of us going to the beach?”
The rest of the Creeps turned and looked at her in confusion.
“Well, don’t look at me like I just sprouted blonde hair and went Valley Girl on you’s guys! I hear the girls down there are sweet and innocent… just like Kosnar likes ‘em!”
“And the boys?” Tempest inquired, his eyes zeroing in on her. She smiled that unsettling smile before giggling.
“I hear their meat is nice… and juicy,” she said, eyes wide with excitement.
Rule #5: Fear the Reaper!
“Is he the leader?”
“You know it, boy. The Reaper. The King Freak. The Spider King. The Tempest. All names he’s gone by. Ya get these keyboard warriors, see, and they don’t take him all that serious. Til they see him in person. And ain’t nobody seen him in person since his latest resurrection. The man’s lost all of his innocence. Everything that made him dismissive before’s gone. He don’t blur the line no more. He’s drawn the line in the dirt, and he’s darin’ anybody to cross it into Gnaw Bone. Folks think they can just come into Gnaw Bone all willy-nilly and not face the consequences. But just know this… I ain’t gonna take you into Gnaw Bone. I’m gonna let you out just outside and let you think about what you’re getting yourself into. The folks that go into Gnaw Bone, they come out cursed.”
“But… you’re going into Gnaw Bone without me, then? Won’t you be cursed?”
The driver grinned an ice cream grin.
“Can’t curse the already cursed, son.”
The house fire started at sunset, just as the last of the sun peeked over the horizon. She could see the smoke from Old County 13. At first, she thought it was just someone having a bonfire in their backyard. But, she had a feeling. A strange feeling that she shouldn’t have had because there was no reason to think otherwise. But, she did. So she followed the smoke.
In the house, the fire had started due to a poor electrical connection in the wall downstairs. The family sat at the dinner table, eating their meatloaf.
“How was school today?” the mother asked the daughter with a bright Jane Cleaver smile.
“We didn’t have school today. Remember? The bus–”
“Oh, that’s right!” Mother interrupted. “The bus.”
They continued to eat their dinner. Flames began to climb up the curtains in the living room.
Across the road, an old man was push mowing his front yard.
She could hear the mower running, but she couldn’t at the same time. Her focus was at the house that she just discovered was on fire. What started as a curious walk had turned into an alarmed jog, and now a full sprint towards the house. She stopped and waved her arms at the old man mowing.
“Mister! Mister, call 911! That house is on fire!” she called.
He smiled kindly and waved.
“What the fuck!? Did you hear me!?”
He let go of the mower’s handle and the engine died.
“I heard you.”
“So, why aren’t you calling!? There are people in there!”
He chuckled, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiping the sweat from his forehead.
“I know.”
“I don’t have time for this!” she screamed in anger.
She sprinted across the street. The old man waved cheerfully from behind her, then continued to mow his yard.
The father was reading the Gnaw Bone Daily. He whistled from behind it.
“Woodsboro swept Haddonfield again. They’re unstoppable this year!”
“Daddy, do you think we’ll ever have a baseball team?”
“Oh, sure son! But, we won’t live to see it.”
She stopped, watching in disbelief as the family inside continued eating their dinner as if their house wasn’t about to burn down. She ran to the window, where the curtains were being engulfed by flames. It would be literally seconds before the family would burn, too. She frantically hit the front window to get their attention. They all turned their heads at the same time. For a split second, her eyes darted at the title of the comic book in the boy’s clutched hands: The Astro Creeps.
“Hi! There’s… there’s a fire in your home! You have to get out!”
The family smiled, as if confused.
“We know,” the mother said calmly, but loud enough that she could hear from outside the home.
“You have to get your kids out! Please, before it’s too late!”
“But… you’ll burn, too,” the mother said with that Jane Cleaver smile. A pearl necklace wrapped around her neck, too, just like Jane. “We’ll all burn. You should just accept it.”
“W-what? Oh my god.”
She went to the front door, but the doorknob was already too hot to the touch. She circled, raising her hands to her head and not knowing what to do. She saw a school bus speeding down the road in front of the house. Inside, the driver was… off. There was something wrong, he didn’t look right. He didn’t look human. The bus was on fire. And all of the kids inside were laughing. Their eyes were wild with insanity.
Except one. One little boy had his face against the window, desperately trying to get the attention of anyone outside. He locked eyes with her and began beating his hands on the window, pleading for her to save him. The bus was too fast. It disappeared over the hill and into the horizon, the glow of its engine fire the only part of it that could be seen in the purple twilight.
The old man across the street stood with a smile, and a wave. She heard the cry of a child. It was coming from upstairs. She whirled around and immediately began looking for a way up the house to the second story. She sprinted around to the backyard. There was a deck. She climbed it, but the window above was locked from the inside. She braced herself and drove her shoulder into the window, shattering it, and gaining some fresh, deep cuts as a reward for her bravery. She cried out in pain, but climbed inside.
She raced to the front part of the upstairs, where she heard the child’s cry. She entered an infant’s room.
But there was no baby here. Confused, she started to rush to find it. But, something caught her eye.
She looked outside. Across the street, she realized the man hadn’t mowed his entire yard. He only mowed part of it. In fact, he mowed a message:
“WE R ALL GONE DIE”
He stood at the edge of his property, staring up at her in the bedroom window with a smile.
“Oh my god, I have to get out of here.”
She spun around again.
And there he was.
The Spider King.
The Tempest.
The King Freak.
The Reaper.
He gazed at her from behind a skintight mask. It was stitched and looked almost like burlap. Dreadlocks trembled as he took a step forward. He stared at her with one blue eye and one eye that was blind and white like a spider’s egg. A black, leather trenchcoat covered his skin from the neck down. He wore black gloves. Underneath the trenchcoat, a white shirt that seemed out of place, with the text: FUCK S.E.B.
“Why are you doing this to me!?”
His one good eye locked onto her eyes. He commanded her soul as she stood before him.
“A seed does not ask why it’s buried,” he said gently. “It simply becomes what it was always meant to be.”
There was a long silence between them. Tempest stood, his eye measuring her up and down.
“You missed the sign,” he said matter-of-factly. As if she should know what he’s talking about. She didn’t.
“What sign?”
“The one that says ‘Welcome to Gnaw Bone’.”
Rule #6: Never trust a friendly face!
The car slowed as he pulled to the side of the road in front of the ‘Welcome to Gnaw Bone’ sign.
“I’d love to elaborate more on this one, but this is the end of the road, so to speak. None of us have a chance, but you can still turn around and head the other way. I strongly advise it.”
“I will take that into consideration. I appreciate the lift.”
The passenger stepped out, opening the backseat door and grabbing his duffle. He shut the door and took a step backwards. The car crawled back onto Highway 46. The hitchhiker stood quietly for a long time. Perhaps considering the old man’s advice?
Headlights slowly appeared as another car was coming towards Gnaw Bone. He took a deep breath, and stuck his thumb out.
The car began to slow and he could see brakelights drown the world in red behind it. It was a newer vehicle. As it slowed to a stop, the hitchhiker bent down, head sideways to peer into his new driver. The driver didn’t seem to resemble any of the folks in that man’s stories. He smiled and opened the door, tossing in his duffle.
“Thanks for the lift,” he said.
“Sure, no problem!” the driver said cheerfully.
Shifting his car into drive, the new driver pulled off the shoulder and entered Gnaw Bone. For a long time, the two sat in silence. Finally, the driver glanced over at his passenger.
“So, uh, you just passing through?” the driver asked.
The passenger smiled politely and pointed ahead.
“There. Hollow Creek Road. Hang a right there.”
He did as instructed, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.
“No, I’m not passing through,” the passenger said. “I’m going home.”
He reached back and pulled a mask from the side pocket of his duffle and put it on. Kosnar had the friendliest–and most handsome–face of all the Astro Creeps.
To be continued…