THEY



by Vincent Hobbes





Copyright 2010 Hobbes End Entertainment, LLC
Smashwords Edition


First Published in The Endlands, volume one, Hobbes End Publishing, LLC

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This story is a work of fiction.

#


The storm ravaged the four as they traveled the dark, curvy roads of the Rocky Mountains. It was night—late. The storm reached for them, entangling the two couples on the crystal white road. The snow fell briskly, swirling across the road in a maddening fury, threatening to overtake them.
Mike steered his orange, late-model Chevy Blazer cautiously on the ice-coated mountain road. The truck drifted and Mike tugged at the wheel, maintaining its place on the slippery path. His attention ahead, Mike was also trying to collect himself as he drove into the unknown—an unsettling fear awakening within him. Maybe I made a mistake. The headlights pierced only a few feet into the dark Colorado night as flurries of falling snow swirled around the creeping vehicle.
“Hey, Mike,” spoke his younger brother, Brian, who was seated in the passenger seat beside him. “Maybe we should turn around,” he suggested. Brian was three years younger, and his tone was cautious, careful as he questioned his older brother. He held a tiny flashlight, and an unfolded map rested on his lap. “I think . . . I’m not sure, but I think we took the wrong exit back at Silver Springs,” he added, his voice lingering.
Their wives sat in the back seat, behind the two brothers. Both of their eyes were wide with anticipation. They sat quietly, worried and confused. Kelly and Taylor struggled to calm themselves, but they were still shaky. Kelly’s blue eyes had long since lost the gleam that usually resided in them. They were hollow and scared. Upon hearing her husband’s hesitant words, Kelly tilted her head towards Brian, glad to hear he wanted to turn around as well.
We’re all thinking it, Kelly thought to herself. Mike is so damn stubborn, but he should be thinking it, too.
Mike finally spoke. His attention was on driving, and in a raspy, almost sullen voice he replied, “Maybe we should. Maybe we shouldn’t.”
Kelly was growing angry with her brother-in-law. Typical Mike.
Mike took one hand and pushed back his brown hair, then placed it quickly back on the steering wheel as they rounded another shoulder. “I think we should continue on. We’ve been on this road for almost three hours. Why turn back now?” Mike asked.
Kelly was struggling not to shout out loud. She held her breath, trying to relax. He is so arrogant. Always have to be the bold, older brother, don’t you Mike?
Mike continued talking, taking a moment to look back in his rearview mirror at his wife, Taylor. She was seated directly behind him, smiling as he gazed at her. Her small smile gave him a boost of confidence. Mike then said, “No, we’ll find a place soon enough. It’s just slow going is all.”
“Yeah,” Brian agreed reluctantly. “All I’m saying is I think maybe we’re on the wrong road.”
“And maybe we’re not,” retorted Mike. “Besides, this road has to eventually end up somewhere.”
Brian thumbed the road map nervously. It sounded like popping June bugs under foot as he handled it. “Well, we could always turn around and head back to Silver Springs. We could stay overnight until this storm blows through.” Brian was not doing a good job at acting brave, and knew he should not be challenging his brother. He could not help it though, he was scared.
Kelly did not care if her husband was being a coward or not. We’re all thinking it. Mike has to be thinking the same thing, too. Follow your brother’s advice and TURN AROUND, she thought.
Mike waited a moment, the same conflict rolling around in his head. “We could turn around. Yes, we could. And provided we don’t slide off the road or get broadsided by another car, there is always the issue of . . . gas. Or, lack of it,” he finished in a quiet voice, peering at the dashboard.
The three passengers instantly leaned over Mike, seeing for themselves the steadily dwindling gas gauge.
Mike knew Brian was worried, as were their wives. However, the constant questioning had begun to take Mike’s concentration off the road. “At a quarter tank of gas, we wouldn’t get very far. So, what we need to do,” Mike paused, “is keep going. We should find a gas station or hotel soon enough.” Although he attempted to maintain control, Brian could hear desperation creeping into his brother’s voice.
Their attention changed focus, and the possibility of being lost, and spending the night in the middle of the mountains, made the women chatter loudly.
“Are we going to run out of gas?”
“I knew it. I just knew it.”
“We never should have driven this late at night.”
“Yeah, we should have stayed in that town.”
“Are we going to have to spend the night out here?”
“We’ll freeze to death.”
“I knew it. I just knew it.”
The women’s rippling burst of panic unnerved both Mike and Brian, who always seemed to maintain a certain calm collectiveness in the face of trouble. However, their wives had gotten them riled, and they were beginning to lose their patience.
“Now that’s enough!” commanded Mike, his voice authoritative. “There’s nothing we can do. We’ll just push forward and hope for the best.”
Brian, realizing his brother was creating dissent, chimed in, “Mike is right. We’ll just keep going. There has to be a town or something in the next thirty miles.” He slowly folded the map, realizing it was of no use anymore. He had to have faith they would make it. Brian let out a loud, exhausted sigh and looked forward. He knew the trip was supposed to be relaxing, a long awaited vacation, yet he did not feel relaxed. Not one bit. Brian slowly reached back, grasping Kelly’s hand. It was cold and clammy. He held her hand firmly, sighed again, and shifting in his seat. Brian then looked ahead once more, staring intently into the dark, swirling snowstorm that drifted silently down from the dismal skies.
The storm was growing steadily more intense. The Colorado winter winds jabbed and stabbed at the Blazer, as if desiring to push the four-wheeled vehicle off the road and into the powdery snow banks. Feathers of snow blasted at the windshield, obscuring Mike’s vision as he slowly pushed forward. The flakes fell from the midnight sky like powdered sugar, adding nearly three inches of snow in the past half-hour.

The minutes went by and became an hour. None had spoken in that time, yet the tension in the car was almost visible. It was dreamlike—an unbearable mimicking of how eager life is to be cruel. The gas tank now rested comfortably on the red dash, teetering on empty.
Past empty.
Mike thought to himself, This night . . . this storm . . . why me? The oldest of the four, the man in charge, was drained of all that was plentiful and merry. Usually in high spirits, Mike was frustrated, and a bit scared, although he was careful not to reveal his fears.
Taylor sat behind him, trying to maintain her dignity by not freaking out. Mike looked at his wife in the rear view mirror once more, making brief eye contact. The quick glance betrayed his muddled thoughts. His wife knew him too well.
Amongst the screaming and howling winds outside, and the chugging of the large engine, the four sat silent, frozen. Occasionally, one would take a brief glance at the falling gas gauge, which balanced as if on crooked stilts on the empty mark.
Taylor tried to relax. Not much farther now, she thought. Not much farther until we meet this night, face-to-face. Her attempts at calm were in vain.
She was past afraid.

The orange Blazer pushed a few more slow miles into the shadowy depths of the storm.
The sputtering began.
The truck began to lurch at slow, steady intervals, finally stalling at the top of a hill. Mike struggled with the steering wheel, fighting it, pulling at it, finally stopping the Blazer gently on the side of the road. The tires were only inches from the depths of a deep ditch.
The four sat in desolate silence, an eternity of hell. Only the sounds of their breathing were audible. The silence placated their fears, although this was only temporary. They knew they faced the open arms of insanity outside the warmth of the truck.
Kelly was the most distraught. Tears welled up in her eyes, pouring down her flushed cheeks. A nostalgic glaze coated them as she silently wished—hoped—prayed to wake up from this horrific dream. Yet, the night answered with a gust of wind, spitting forth its vengeance, and reminding her that this situation was the furthest thing from a dream.
Kelly was a city girl. She had been the only one not enthusiastic to go on this trip in the first place. Now, she was stuck in a blizzard. The simple thought of being stranded at night in nature’s powerful grip paralyzed her with fear. Kelly felt as if she would crack at any moment.
It was Taylor who broke the silence. “What the hell are we going to do? I mean, seriously—what do we do?” she asked. Taylor was trying to control her own panic, but she wanted answers. The unknown grew inside her like a constant ridicule to her sanity. “Are we going to have to spend the night out here? If so, we’ll freeze to death, won’t we?”
Her husband was not blind to that simple and possible destined fate. The prospect of dying within the shadows of a cold, mountain road churned in his mind. He was both angry and scared. Nonetheless, Mike’s survival mode was beginning to take charge. He squinted his eyes and looked through the windshield of their tomb. He stared for some time, into the night, and the night stared back. This time, however, it seemed Mike won the contest.
“Look,” he exclaimed, pointing into the distance, a twinge of hope in his voice.
The other passengers stared forward in unison, straining their eyes into the floating darkness of the storm.
“What? What do you see?” asked Brian eagerly.
The stretch of time that passed before his answer was maddening. Mike finally said, “Well, I think . . . I might be mistaken, but I think I see lights.”
At that mention, all four leaned further in their seats and strained their eyes, looking past the puzzle of snow flurries and searching for what could be their salvation.
Kelly responded, desperation in her voice. “I don’t see anything. Are you sure you see something, Mike? Are you sure?” She was nearly pleading with her brother-in-law.
“Yeah, I don’t see anything, either. Maybe it’s just—” Brian stopped his words as his older brother opened the driver’s side door and stepped out into the frozen night. A cold blast of chilly air entered the truck before he closed the door.
Brian immediately looked back towards the women and said, “Don’t worry.” His instincts were tossed mercilessly out of control, and the women could tell by the look in his eyes. Yet, through his personal troubles, the man did maintain an ambience of control. Brian nodded his head in approval of his brother’s actions, however strange they were, and for the moment, the two women were convinced of his countenance. Yeah, as if this stuff happens all the time to Mike and me, he thought to himself with bitter sarcasm. Brian oddly felt a stab of resentment, although he did not know towards whom.
Minutes passed.
The three drew in breaths simultaneously.
They exhaled in unison.
Minutes more.
Then, as they all secretly felt that in some demented, idiotic way the earth itself had swallowed Mike whole, the driver’s door opened abruptly. There was Mike, covered in a blanket of snow, cold and shivering, yet not dissuaded by his bizarre actions.
“Well, d . . . did you s . . . see anything,” Brian questioned, oddly his childhood stutter slipped out—it had been many years.
Mike looked at him oddly and then replied, “Well, it’s colder than our mama’s freezer, but I walked, oh, I’d say about a hundred feet up the road.” He paused for a moment. It was not intentional, for he knew the rest were in limbo, but he felt oddly like laughing. It was like having a joke stuck in your head and it not rearing its ugly duckling head until old Aunt Martha’s funeral. He grinned and gritted his teeth to control the laughter.
Mike snapped back to his senses and continued, even though he was bewildered as to why he would think any of this nonsense was funny. “So, the snow is pretty much blinding, but I did see it. I knew it.” La de dah. I knew I was right. “I saw lights. Looks like a gas station, and definitely lights on at the home front.”
Everyone in the Blazer was smiling now. Everyone that is, except for Kelly. She gazed through the windshield, which was solid white, and stared ahead skeptically.
Within minutes, the group had formed a plan. The two brothers were to bundle up tightly and make what Mike estimated to be a thirty-minute trek to the gas station, serve themselves up a gallon or two of gasoline into their red gas can, and maybe grab a thermos of hot joe for the ladies. They would be back in about an hour. Back in no time at all. With a little luck, the attendant might be nice enough to drive them back, lowering their estimated travel time to less than forty minutes. The women would be fine, even without a heater, having a pair of wool blankets in which to bundle themselves.
With that, the brothers kissed their wives, stepped from the Blazer, locking the doors tight behind them, and began moving briskly into the depths of darkness—towards the light of the gas station. It was indeed cold, but their spirits remained settled, yet cautious and wary. They walked on.

An hour passed. The women kept constant check of the time, and both Kelly and Taylor began to fidget. They had kept relatively warm; each was draped in a scratchy, yet warm, wool blanket. They shivered more from fright than from the cold. Kelly finally leaned forward in her seat, looking into the abyss, then sat back again. Finally, the two busied themselves in gabbing conversation that the two men would have rolled their eyes at had they sat and listened. Nothing like a little ‘girl talk’ to keep their minds from wandering and roaming. Nothing better to push away the nightmare.
They remained constant in their conversation until over an hour and forty minutes had passed, and then, like their innermost nature prescribed, they worried.
“They said an hour at the most,” Kelly mumbled. She flicked her eyes to meet Taylor’s, and then back again to her watch. She acted as if time was an element that she might be able to grasp in her clutches and manipulate. Kelly rocked back and forth. “An hour at the most,” she repeated. “An hour . . . an hour . . . an hour.”
“Listen, Mike could have misjudged the distance. It probably took them longer at the gas station than he thought,” said Taylor in a comforting voice. She, too, was worried, but she also realized that something such as this could not be dependent upon a deadline. Taylor knew that if Mike could see the gas station lights from the Blazer, they would not have any problems reaching it. Both men were in good shape and spent time in the outdoors. The roads would be slick walking, but not impossible. But still. “They’re probably just taking it slow, having to carry the gas and coffee back,” she said, almost as an afterthought.
Taylor managed a smile, trying to relax her sister-in-law. Unfortunately, it was not working. Kelly was simply the type of woman who could not keep rationality intact. Her mind raced for perverted and disastrous reasons as to why her Brian was not back yet. One hour. One hour. At the most. “Well, what if—?”
However, Taylor headed her off. “No, we’re not playing that game Kelly!” She spoke to her as a parent would a child. She had to. Being a schoolteacher, Taylor went back to her roots. Her voice became stern. “There is no reason to get worked up when probably in just a few minutes the boys will be walking up.” Noticing the tears beginning to swell in Kelly’s eyes, she added, “Do you really want Brian to think you’re a baby? Because he will if you don’t stop acting like that. He’ll think you have no faith in him whatsoever.” Taylor then lowered her voice and said calmly, “Don’t worry. They’re alright, and will be here soon. Just relax.”
Kelly nodded her head, wiping away the few tears that had gone astray, and wrapped the itchy, tattered wool blanket tight around her shoulders. Her eyes shifted in constant motion. Back and forth and back and forth, trying feverishly to see signs of life outside the Blazer. Snow coated the windows, as if freshly painted, and obscured her vision to the outside world.
Twenty more minutes passed and Taylor also grew increasingly worried. The winds outside howled ravenously, worse as time passed. It would blow through the pass in powerful bursts that rocked the off-road vehicle side to side. Taylor gazed at Kelly, trying her hardest to assure her that everything would be all right. Kelly sat silent and numb, focusing on the silver watch that cuffed her left wrist. Panic had now entirely set in for Kelly and she simply knew that everything was wrong. One hour. He said one hour. Damn you, Mike, damn you and your one hour.

Suddenly, the two women felt a thud against the driver’s door, causing both to nearly leap out of their skin. They maybe would have if they had not immediately seen the figure outside wearing a yellow ski jacket. It was Brian, pounding on the window. Kelly anxiously reached over Taylor, pushed the driver’s seat forward, and unlocked the door, opening it wide. The rush of wind instantly pounded at their eardrums. The wind screamed an eternity of anguish, like a small child who wanders past the racks of blouses and suddenly realizes that mommy is no longer around. The wind whined, piercing the air as if afraid.
Afraid of what? Taylor thought.
Kelly’s face brightened immensely, a great weight dropping from her shoulders. Brian stepped closer, his head leaning into the Blazer, and Kelly’s arm shot forward and grabbed him, pulling and hugging her husband at the same time. Taylor slid to the right as Kelly took her spot, helping Brian inside. She giggled loudly.
It was then that Taylor noticed something was not right. Not right at all.
Kelly pulled Brian firmly towards her. Then she noticed the blood. He had some cuts on his face and a gash on his hand. But there’s a lot of blood. Taylor leaned to help and noticed Brian’s face had gone stark white, pale with shock. He was expressionless as they grabbed him. With uncanny strength, the girls pulled him halfway into the backseat of the Blazer.
Kelly didn’t see it.
Taylor did.
Then, Kelly looked at her crumpled husband and screamed bloody murder.
She grabbed at Brian, who grunted, yet otherwise remained silent. Kelly pulled her hands back and looked at them. They were covered in a crimson liquid. She looked at the seat where Brian lay and saw the pool of blood forming. Kelly began crying loudly as she stared in horror at the man she loved.
Brian began convulsing. His body shook, and white froth formed at his lips. Kelly screamed even more. “Oh my God! Oh, no. No no no no!”
Taylor sat dumbfounded, unable to help. Her eyes were wide as she stared at her brother-in-law.
Brian’s right arm had been ripped from his shoulder and the stump was leaking profusely, pouring all over his wife. Kelly, still grabbing hold of Brian, afraid to let go, kept screaming and screaming and screaming. The blood pumped from the pulpy stock where once Brian’s arm had been. Fibrous tissues and torn muscles hung from the gaping hole. Protruding outward were a few inches of jagged bone, slanted due to whatever pressure might have done such a thing.
“Oh my God,” screamed Kelly again. “No, Brian, no!”
Brian was losing consciousness. His eyes rolled back, and his face was as white as the snow outside. Blood dripped from the corner of his lip. He breathed heavily as Kelly held him. Brian reached his left hand to his other side, trying to grasp at his missing right arm. He kept looking down, not understanding the cold sensation he felt. It was like a pestering itch that he could not scratch. His head bobbed front to back like a newborn baby.
Brian began to cry.
Kelly was completely hysterical at this point, screaming so loudly that her voice penetrated the howling wind and seemed to ripple through the metal of the Blazer. Taylor could tell Brian was trying to whisper something, and she leaned over Kelly, listening. Brian kept reaching for his missing arm. Taylor grabbed his chin and faced him towards her. Kelly could only sit helplessly, still sobbing, holding her husband.
“Go,” he quietly told her.
“What about Mike? Brian, where’s Mike?” Taylor asked, trying to stay calm, but not succeeding. “Answer me! Where is your brother?”
“Just go!” he managed to say in a rough whisper. Finally, Brian’s head fell back and he passed out.
Taylor did not understand what was happening, but she did understand the severity of the situation. She needed to get Brian help. She tried not to think about her own husband as she jumped into the driver’s seat. Once again, she repeated, “Brian, where the hell is Mike?”
Brian awoke for a moment from his stupor and stared forward, looking past Taylor and into the night. His eyes were wide as he managed one last word, “GO!” Then, Brian lowered his head for the last time, his eyes closing.

Taylor had seen the fear in his eyes. She did not understand it, but this was not the time for her to question. She reached at the ignition and turned the key. “Please God, just let it start,” she whimpered softly. The engine clanked once, but to no avail. She cried. She panicked.
Again, she turned the key.
Nothing. And again. Nothing.
Kelly’s screams from the backseat drowned out the big engine’s attempts at life. “Baby. Oh no, baby! Where is your arm?” Kelly was completely hysterical as she violently shook Brian in a vain attempt to understand the madness. She could not fully realize that her husband was dead.
Taylor turned the key again and the Blazer sputtered twice, then caught. We have a chance. A little one, but we do have a chance.
Without thought, Taylor slammed it into low gear and mashed the accelerator for all that it was worth; the swollen tires spat ice and rock as the truck lurched forward. Taylor realized she could not see and fumbled with the windshield wipers as she pushed crazily forward. Behind her, Brian was still as his wife held him. Kelly was looking at him in her arms, absolute terror on her face. Where is your arm, baby? Where is your arm? Please don’t leave me!
The Blazer bolted down the mountain hill, gaining speed while it once again began to shudder and lurch. Taylor knew she did not have much time. She was lucky to even get the piece of junk started, but now it was only running on vapors. The Blazer grabbed up another short hill and as it reached the top, Taylor’s eyes widened as she saw them.

The Blazer’s engine coughed twice, then went silent.
Kelly violently vomited in the backseat.
Ahead of them was indeed a gas station, well-lit and open for business. The Blazer rolled towards it as Taylor sat transfixed in her seat, staring at them. The truck was rolling quickly and Taylor held the wheel, her knuckles white. She looked again at the gas station ahead of her. It was bright and three cars were at the pumps, four more in parking spaces. She felt a tingle of relief as she saw movement inside the building.
They were there, in the darkness, but Taylor felt they would make it to the gas station in time. They were in the distance, but the gas station was close. We’ll make it. Someone here can help. Her relief was short lived.
Terror hit Taylor. As they rolled into the parking lot, she realized things were not right. No, not right at all. Shattered glass littered the ground. The hood of one of the cars was mangled, windows shattered. The pumps, under the ominous flickering fluorescent lights, had been destroyed. Trashcans were turned over. She looked inside the store as she coasted the large truck to a halt. Slamming it in park, Taylor undid her seatbelt, but did not exit the vehicle. Inside the store, she saw more of them. If Taylor had been able to look back, in hindsight, she would have welcomed the shock. The shock protected her. Her mind was racing unevenly, dancing from one parallel universe of horror to another, yet the shock numbed it.
The boogeyman is real. Don’t believe me? Take a look outside . . . ha ha ho ho he he—take me to the funny farm—
As Taylor sat dumbfounded, it was Kelly who reacted. Still not aware that there was no help left for her husband, she understandably wanted to find aid. She rested Brian’s head back and climbed into the front seat, opened the passenger door and stepped from the truck.
Taylor reached for her. Her mouth was dry and the words were only in her head. No . . . don’t go . . . they are here! Her hand barely missed catching hold of Kelly’s sweater. Kelly, in her haste, left the door open as she sprinted towards the store. Taylor could only watch, unable to comprehend.
Kelly reached the door of the convenience store. The chingle changle of the bell rang as she rushed through the entrance. Immediately, she began shouting for help. “Somebody help! Call 911 . . . something . . . my husband needs help!” She was bawling hysterically. Kelly was in utter panic, completely without composure. She shouted and pleaded to the patrons for help.
It took a moment, but Kelly finally stopped yelling. She became silent.
Taylor watched from the Blazer, horrified, as the patrons inside stared back at her. She blasted the horn of the truck twice.
Kelly stood in the store, trembling as they looked upon her. Slowly, she stepped back. One step. Another.
Taylor twisted the key, attempting to start the Blazer again. How insane is this? Only twenty feet from a gas pump. Only twenty feet.
Kelly’s back bumped the front door of the service station. The bells jingled as the door opened. Instantly, they were upon her.
Taylor watched as they mutilated her sister-in-law’s body. They shred it to pieces. Then, they scrambled through the door, racing towards her. It took her a moment, but she realized the passenger door was still open. She reached for it.
One of them reached it first. It snarled and slashed at her. Screaming, Taylor opened the driver’s side door and leapt out, her feet hitting the cement hard. She sprinted.
Another scrambled inside the Blazer. They began devouring Brian’s dead body.
Taylor ran as fast as she could. She passed a stalled car; a half-eaten body slumped at the wheel. She then passed the pumps, jumped over a trashcan, and headed out of the parking lot. Then, she saw Mike. Her beloved Mike. Her husband of four years. The love of her life, lying dead and mutilated next to the green dumpster.
She kept running. Taylor bounded across the slick street, running for her life. She ran toward the trees, toward the darkness.
Her feet shuffled and her heart pounded. Behind her, she heard them. Taylor gained some distance, but her breath was becoming short. She crashed into the tree line as the fierce howls bellowed from behind. The wind roared in her ears and the branches cut at her face.
Still, she ran.
Farther and farther into the woods she raced. She fell down, got back up and kept moving. On and on, Taylor made her way into the depths of the forest. Into the great Rocky Mountains. In the distance now, she could hear their chaos. She could hear their noises. Their grunts. Their howls.

Finally, Taylor stopped. She could not go on. She clung desperately to a nearby tree, holding herself up as she tried to catch her breath. The forest was dark around her. It was silent. She could no longer hear them.
My God. I made it. What do I do now?
Taylor panted. She wiped her sweaty brow.
I think . . . I think I lost them. What do I . . . what do I do?
Taylor began catching her breath.
What do I do—?
Then, a noise—a snarl.
Rotten and rancid—a smell.
Foul and wicked, THEY appeared from behind the shadows.