Songs from the depths

November 21, 2015

Day: Saturday

Time: 06:03

 

I can't believe we both fell asleep!

 

I know we're exhausted and stressed, and Ramirez lost a lot of blood, but we both know better! We're damn lucky nothing got through my kitchen barricade, or any other part of the house. I don't know if the locked study doors could have resisted a direct assault. We're just damn lucky, that's all.

 

The fog is gone, and the ambulance is still there. Honestly, I half-expected it to have vanished with the fog. It's been that kind of a week.

 

In fact -- maybe it's stranger that the ambulance is still out there.

 

Whatever. We'll figure it out after we get the hell out of here.

 

07:48

 

I have to think -- about a lot of things. Mainly about what happened when we went out to the ambulance.

 

With Ramirez sitting on a chair in the foyer, prepared to shoot anything that came through the door that we didn't want coming through it, I opened the front door.

 

That was the first odd thing, that the front door opened. It had mysteriously resisted for so long that its new compliance was equally mysterious. Nothing stirred outside. There wasn't a trace of fog, no sign of the ambulance guys , but the ambulance still stood there.

 

I helped Ramirez up and we crossed the foyer, the weathered front porch, and slowly descended the creaking steps, Ramirez leaning on me and limping badly, his leg having stiffened up during the night on the floor.

 

We kept paranoid watch all around us, but nothing moved in the overgrown garden, or between the surrounding trees. We reached the ambulance, and I helped him into the front, driver's seat then stood guard with his gun while he fiddled with the ignition.

 

Ramirez knows a lot of expletives. He can swear in dead languages , which is damn impressive, but the reason for his swearing didn't amuse me. He told me to look under the hood of the ambulance, that he'd talk me through various things to inspect that could cause the engine to be unresponsive.

 

I didn't need to be a mechanic to figure out why the engine wouldn't turn over.

 

Hoses, belts, and wires were torn apart, hanging out in a colorful disarray like machine entrails -- just like the intestines and other internal organs of the partial torso wedged grotesquely into the engine compartment. I knew it was one of the ambulance guys only because of the shredded, gory tatters of the uniform still clinging to the ravaged torso.

 

Dead bodies don't bother me, not in any condition. I've seen so many by now that I realize they won't harm me, only the living do that. My stomach might turn if they smell bad, but that's a physical reaction, not emotional. Still, this was a lot like having a corpse hurled in my face, so I was startled. I swore and dropped the hood, which alerted Ramirez to something not being exactly as it should be.

 

I quickly collected myself and went back to him, telling him what I'd found. We debated about whether we should strike out for town, or retreat back inside the house. We decided to take the gurney from the ambulance and Ramirez could ride while I pushed. It would be faster, and save his leg, plus he could be ready to shoot anyone, or anything, that might attack.

 

The plan was working perfectly until we reached the front gate. The damn thing was locked again and wouldn't budge!

 

I was able to get a signal on my cell and I called Devon, but right in the middle of my description about what had happened, my battery finally gave up the ghost. Ramirez decided to call the cops with his cell, and he managed to tell them there had been a murder, and the address, before his battery died too.

 

We decided to wait at the gates for the cops, anticipating a lot of activity in response to news about a murder. An hour passed and there wasn't a sign, or sound, of cops.

 

We heard singing.

 

That's right, singing. From the tune and tempo it sounded like a typical Christian hymn -- you know what I mean. It was coming from down the road, faint at first, getting louder as the singers (quite a crowd, from the number of voices), grew closer.

 

It wasn't right. I knew it in a second, although Ramirez thought I was overreacting. It was too coincidental, and while they happen, I couldn't believe in this much of one; choir instead of cops.

 

I wheeled Ramirez back to the house, left the gurney at the foot of the steps, and helped him back inside, locking the door and keeping an eye on the driveway through one of the front windows.

 

Not long after we got inside, a crowd of figure dressed all in black approached the house. They'd obviously just come through the gates that had been locked against us. Their entrance into the estate made it obvious that they were "in" on whatever was happening.

 

We were ready for them, if they tried to break in, but they simply continued singing, passing the ambulance and taking the path that led around the side of the house, toward the chapel.

 

Ramirez urged me strongly (he yelled at me), to get the hell out of the house and make a run for the gates; and if the gates were locked again I was to get the hell over the fence and find help, but not in the nearest town since the police there were definitely suspect.

 

He insisted he'd only slow me down, and he'd never be able to get over the fence, so I had to go alone. We fought about it for a while, until he got it through his thick skull that there was no way in hell I was going to leave him here, alone.

 

He called me stubborn.

 

I called him a jerk.

 

10:15

 

Devon called on the house phone.

 

I came right out and accused him of being involved in every-freaking-thing that was going on in the damn house. (I mean, not EVERYthing. Clearly he had nothing to do with what happened in the journals and papers we'd found.)

 

Devon protested his innocence then got all freaked out about the torso in the ambulance and the fact that the cops never showed up which, he says, they told him, they had. In fact, he said the cops told him they talked to us and we had no idea what Devon's problem was, the house phone was out, that was all.

 

He sounded so damn sincere that I think -- I think I was wrong about suspecting him. I think the cops in the nearest town ARE part of this freak show, improbably as that sounds.

 

Devon said he's contacting the state police, alerting them of, not only our plight, but the apparent involvement of the local cops, based on their failure to respond and blatant lies to him.

 

If you'd heard him -- he sounded SO worried about us that I just can't believe he ever had a hand in any of this at all. Hell, if that's true, and he's totally innocent of all of the awful things I've been thinking about him, I'm going to owe him something expensive, as an apology. Maybe a pair of those Salvatore Ferraro's he's always gushing about.

 

10:50

 

The chapel must have amazing acoustics; we can hear them singing in Latin all the way in here. The Latin is probably why it sounds extra depressing and ominous. Ramirez is translating the song.

 

11:13

 

Ramirez translated the song. It does NOT sound like these people believe in a kind and gentle deity.

 

The song is all about wrath, and eye-for-an-eye kind of stuff, not to mention graphic edicts about slaying monsters, heretics, witches and the like, too. I'm just betting that these are the kind of folk who will find a convenient elimination clause for us.

 

11:57

 

I hope the state cops didn't get a call out to one of their people, but it they did, I hope a whole squadron responds. After what just happened -- they'll need a squadron -- or maybe one guy with a tank.

 

This tremendous wash of relief swept over me when the state patrol car rolled up to the house, lights flashing, red and blue playing up and down the walls inside the house.

 

It parked right behind the ambulance, and two tall men wearing "Smokey Bear" covers, got out on either side. I was delighted by their alert demeanor; holsters unstrapped, hands poised over their weapons, prepared to draw. Devon must have painted a pretty grim picture of our situation. Well, maybe not grim enough, in hindsight.

 

I helped Ramirez to the door, unlocking and opening it.

 

It occurred to me that the weird choir wasn't singing anymore even as the door swung open and I prepared to tell the officers we were glad to see them. In the short time it had taken me to help Ramirez to the door, the singers had converged on the officers.

 

All in black, looking like overcompensating funeral attendees, they stood silently before the officers who now looked less wary and more puzzled by their appearance. One of the troopers looked toward the house, to where I stood, supporting Ramirez, my mouth opening to shout a warning

 

I have no idea what sort of expression I wore, but I could see the trooper's, and I saw that he knew I was trying to warn him about some incredible danger even before I uttered a sound. I saw his understanding of that -- and also his understanding that it was too late.

 

The black clad mass swept over the startled troopers even as they drew their weapons -- too late.

 

I didn't see any weapons in the singers' hands, but gouts of blood, arterial spray, still misted the air as the officers went down under the black tide.

 

Instinct seized me and I'd taken a step toward the undulating mass, intent on helping the troopers, when Ramirez' arm tightened on me and his voice came out sounding as if he was being strangled, "God, no!" It wasn't just the horror and fear in his voice that stopped me; his horror over what we were witnessing, and his fear for me, if I'd taken another step. It was the way half of the black mass turned toward us, having heard Ramirez' warning to me.

 

Their pale, distorted faces, blood spilling from snarling mouths, crimson staining hands curled into claws -- that is what stopped me.

 

"Back. Back inside, slowly," Ramirez whispered to me, drawing me backward. I didn't resist, moving slowly as more and more of the singers turned their attention toward us.

 

I don't know what instinct told me to accelerate my pace, but I shoved Ramirez back, into the foyer, leaping after him and slamming the door shut in the snarling face of one of the singers who hadn't been with the other, but had been circling around and creeping up on us, from one end of the porch.

 

I managed to get the door closed and locked just as the first singer slammed into it. Ramirez hurled himself against the door, beside me, as more of the hellish singers thudded heavily against the opposite side, jarring my teeth with the kinetic force.

 

Ramirez told me that, if they started to break through, I was to run for the basement and escape through the tunnels. I told him to shove his chivalry up his ass. We didn't have to argue the situation any further, though, because the pounding on the door suddenly stopped.

 

We looked toward the windows on either side, thinking they intended to crash through, but there was no further sound from the porch. I left Ramirez at the door, creeping quietly to the window on the left side, venturing a peek outside.

 

The porch was empty.

 

I couldn't see the ground where the troopers were recently dragged down, so I didn't know if their bodies still lay out there, or if they'd been taken away, but their cruiser still sat behind the ambulance, lights flashing, engine idling. I wanted to make a try for the car, but Ramirez refused to let me out the door. He was positive that it was a trap, that the singers were baiting us, hoping we were desperate enough to make a reckless run for the car. I tried to argue with him, that even if it was a trap, I could probably outrun anyone chasing me, but Ramirez wouldn't let me try. We even had a tussle over it.

 

After I got over being pissed off, I realized that Ramirez couldn't make the run to the car, and I couldn't drive back for him. So, I agreed not to try, but not for the reason Ramirez argued (that it was a trap and I had no chance in hell of making it).

 

I stayed because there was no way in hell I was leaving him there, alone.

 

 

(This story originally appeared on my main page. Archived here. The rest of the original story, with new images, will follow.

Original comments are below.)

 

Azazel Azalee, delisha A and 34 more people faved this

 

cold pail (deleted)

9y

Okay....if a walker comes out of those woods, this will totally turn my theory upside down!

 

Teddi Beres

9y

(giggles) A walker. I can promise you there are no zombies.

 

belladonna quixote

9y

You're so fluffy, I'm always taken off guard when you get SO creepy! lol

 

Teddi Beres

9y

belladonna quixote I'm thrilled to terrorize you. (giggles an evil giggle)

 

Erebus Darkfold

9y

I swear I was not trying to cop a feel. That was just a happy coincidence. *laughs*

 

Teddi Beres

9y

Erebus Darkfold Eek! Naughty, naughty you! (giggles)

 

Azazel Azalee, delisha A and 51 more people faved this

 

cold pail (deleted)

9y

That is just too creepy! I don't like where this is heading....... i can't wait for the next chapter!

 

Lyrical Appliance (deleted)

9y

Great story!! Cell phone must have been on auto correct! Laughs..........stay safe!!

 

Teddi Beres

9y

Thank you! (And now that I fixed the typos, it makes more sense. giggles) Scare you later!

 

Teddi Beres

9y

Lyrical Appliance Cops, not choir! I need...darn it! (giggles) Thank you, we'll keep our heads down!

 

Marcela Andel

9y

Beautiful dear Teddi <3

 

Teddi Beres

9y

Marcela Andel That's so sweet of you, thank you! (I'm pretty blah compared to your pics; they're fanTASTIC!) huggles

 

Azazel Azalee, delisha A and 58 more people faved this

 

Chatwick Harpax

9y

I like the effects in this pict, chillingly sinister. Bravo ;)

 

Michael Patnode

9y

I do like this. Very cool. Don't know whos looking in at you.

 

Teddi Beres

9y

Chatwick Harpax Thank you bunches! (huggles)

 

Teddi Beres

9y

Michael Patnode Creepy neighbors. (giggles) Thank you lots! (hugs)

 

cold pail (deleted)

9y

A scene from the movie "The Others" Eeeeekkkk

 

Marcela Andel

9y

Ohh wow !!! Excellent composition <3

 

Teddi Beres

9y

Cue the creepy music. (giggles)

 

Teddi Beres

9y

Marcela Andel Aww, thank you! I wish I could take super cool pics like you, but that's what makes you special. (blows kisses)

 

Azazel Azalee, delisha A and 61 more people faved this

 

cold pail (deleted)

9y

Hmm...Devon said he would call the state police....it is past 11 PM and still no police.

 

Teddi Beres

9y

(giggles) They're using the 24:00 clock. It's 11:13 AM

 

Thierry Musette

9y

joliment bien pris

 

Teddi Beres

9y

Thierry Musette Merci beaucoup!

 

Chatwick Harpax

9y

I readily agree, there's nothing like a bit of old music sung in Latin to deaden a mood . Careful you two this could get nasty

 

Teddi Beres

9y

Mandy Kharis Thank you bunches!

 

Teddi Beres

9y

Chatwick Harpax NOW you tell me! (hides behind the couch)

 

Brysen Miller, Ｐｅｄｒｏ and 82 more people faved this

 

Emma Deelight

9y

Great shot!

 

Teddi Beres

9y

Emma Deelight Thank you bunches!

 

Chatwick Harpax

9y

Wow, exceptionally excellent photo, Teddi, and the story is coming along rather sinisterly I might add.

Congrats on the whole series so far ;)

 

Teddi Beres

9y

Chatwick Harpax Thank you lotses for the comment and the invitation! I hope to keep you chilled! (hugs)

 

Pomme Pancake / KUROMORI, Azazel Azalee and 49 more people faved this

 

Luca Arturoferrarin

9y

Oh wow amazing! Nice work! love it(◡‿◡*)red heart

 

Teddi Beres

9y

Luca Arturoferrarin I'm so glad you like it! Thank you! (hugs)

 

Chatwick Harpax

9y

Ouch in the chivalry dept there! It's gonna hurt when he tries to use it again Lol. Very well done, as usual

 

Teddi Beres

9y

Chatwick Harpax (giggles) I'm sure he'll be able to extract it when he needs it. (Thank you, and thank you for the invitation.)

Done