mirror of https://github.com/nealey/Horrors2
136 lines
3.8 KiB
TeX
136 lines
3.8 KiB
TeX
\chapauth{January}
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\chapter{The Journey}
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The name's Luke Bavarious, private detective. I've seen
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some gruesome things in my time. Enough to make a man vomit blood.
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That's why I carry a loaded Beretta. Ready to deal expedient
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death to a sucker that needs it, or any misshapen foe. But one
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morning in 1991, I stumbled into a tragedy that wouldn't be
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brought to such an easy conclusion.
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It was a seemingly ordinary day. I turned on the TV as I ate my
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breakfast. I usually checked the news for the violent crime du
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jour, but I wasn't in the mood. I left the television dial to
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linger on a children's program, an animated story called
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``The Journey''.
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A young man decided to go on an expedition to a foreign land. He
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selected a group of friends and relatives to join him. The young
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visionary's face shone with pride as the preparations began.
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Loved ones provided plenty of supplies and all the financial things
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for the trip. A celebration was held when the group was ready to
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set out.
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But some time into the journey, misery befell the adventuring
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party. Everyone developed a horrid sickness, the likes of which
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none had ever seen. Their eyes sunk into their heads as their
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frames grew gaunt and skeletal. Still, they pushed on. It was too
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far to turn back.
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As they trudged onward, their skin thinned and the color diminished
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to putrid green. Pustules developed, swelled, and exploded like
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liquid landmines, coating them in moist blankets of rust colored
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blood. In the end, every one of them drank of the bitter mercy of
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death, as they were reduced to nothing but fetid corpses.
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When the story came to its revolting conclusion, I vomited a
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fountain of spew, transforming my breakfast cereal into a
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despicable acidic cocktail. I couldn't explain the severity
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of my reaction. But what were they airing on TV? This looked like a
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chapter from the work of a deviant mind --- a day in the life
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of Luke Bavarious, perhaps --- not a children's
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show.
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I grabbed a Coors to soothe my throbbing nerves before work. I was
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already late. As I drove, I started to question whether the events
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of the morning had really happened. Maybe it had been a
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dream.
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When I drove past City Hall, I was surprised to see a large
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gathering. Something told me I needed to investigate this instead
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of continuing to my office. I pushed my way through the crowd to
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enter the doors. All around, the atmosphere was one of revelry. A
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young man was giving a speech. Banners waved, and well-wishers
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cheered.
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It was the same man from the story I had just seen! My mouth
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dropped open like a gaping black hole as I pondered his cruel fate.
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Immediately my veins pulsed and pounded, popping instinctually out
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of my neck!
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I noticed one young lady whose silence was telling. Far removed
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from the merriment, she seemed as out of place as I. Tears trickled
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from her bloodshot eyes. I had to I ask. ``Who is that young
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man?''
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``He's my brother,'' she said.
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``He's going to die and take others with him!'' I
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exclaimed. ``His plan is foolishness! We must stop
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him!''
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She did not respond. Her expression was of resignation.
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``I must act if no one else will,'' I thought.
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``Better one bloody mess than many.'' I drew my Beretta
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and aimed it at the young man to make the fatal shot. At the sight
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of my weapon, the sister heaved violently. Vomitus sprayed all over
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my pants and on my Beretta. I hesitated.
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``Don't,'' the girl sobbed. ``I already tried
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to convince them not to go, but no one will listen. If you kill my
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brother, they'll probably go anyway. We just have to let it
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happen.''
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I felt the questions frozen in my mind like impending doom.
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``How do you know this? How do you know they will
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die?''
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Tears cascading down her pale cheeks, she looked me in the eye. I
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knew the true meaning of hopelessness when she
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replied{\ldots}
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``I saw it on TV.''
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