The Rain Train

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When she peered into the stall she was in immediate denial. The man on the floor began mumbling when she verbally caught her own breath.

“It’s always bad.” He was saying.

The woman’s chest had been flayed open and ribs were sticking out in random directions as if someone had reached in, grabbed the insides of the ribcage and yanked them out splitting and peeling the skin back in the process. How could something like this take place in a public bathroom? Blood was starting to dry all around the body in sticky clumps and the face was caked in the stuff. Her legs were sprawled on the floor at odd angles as if whoever did this to her used her shins as support while ripping her apart.

But the enormity of this gruesome scene was not what brought Bobbie Pierce to the land of denial. What brought her to the land of denial was a milky, liquid-like smoke hovering just over the head of the woman. Her heart skipped, then froze, then skipped and settled on a fast nervous rhythm. Her first instinct was to point and shoot.

“What the fuck…” she said in a short exhale and tried to focus on the moving cloud of cataract instead of the horribly mutilated body.

“What is it Bobbie?”

Spatnicker asked.

“I…I…don’t fucking know”

She chanced a quick glance at the man on the floor and for the first time at the moustache man out cold in zips.

“I don’t fuckin know.” She said again and took one more step into the stall.

The liquid smoke cloud thing was hovering and curling in on itself. It wasn’t cold in here so it couldn't be the heat from the corpse. It looked like it was alive. Like it was there by its own will. She wasn’t going to move any closer. It came to her that this could be some sort of biochemical weapon and resolved to get the CDC and ATF involved ASAP.

“Spat, get the lieutenant on the squawk and tell him we have a potential…”

The smoke curled and twisted. It was moving faster now as if turning around. It was turning around. Bobbie didn’t know how she knew this but she just did. And a small curt, “Fuck” escaped her lips as she watched the thing (was she calling it a thing now?) began to form the resemblance of a face. Dark, hollow eyes curled around a long thin nose. Tendrils of milky smoke poured from what could only be called nostrils and formed a mouth.

“What the fuck.” Bobbie said to herself and stepped back.

“Sarge what is it?” Spat asked and began to move toward her.

“Get back!” She shouted and he froze


The face was as detailed as it was going to get and it was looking right at her always in motion, only a face. A breeze caught in the dank death-soaked air. The other two cops looked around in disbelief.

“What in the fuck is going on Bobbie?” Spat asked again, this time with not a small amount of fear in his voice.

“I’m calling the Lieutenant." he was saying, "I’m getting the ATF on…”

“PIERRRRRRCE” The room was filled with the voice and Bobbie pointed her gun in every direction she could trying to get a handle on where the voice was coming from. The man on the floor was mumbling still and slicker was still out like a light. She told herself to follow procedure and everything would work out. Maybe this was a hallucinogen biochemical.

“What the FUCK!” Spat yelled and some voice deep down in the bowels of her brain told Bobbie this was no chemical.

This was….something….fucking…something she didn’t know what but it couldn’t be safe. When she swung back to the stall her gun went right through the liquid smoke face. It opened it’s mouth and she could see three layers of sharp teeth, fangs almost, rise and fall onto her hand. It didn’t connect with skin but she felt the intense cold and unnatural viscosity of the the thing. She didn’t scream. She yelled. It started in the depth of her gut and rose steadily to her chest gunning for her throat and barreling out of her mouth.

“aaaaarrRRRRGGGHHH!” and she began to shoot.

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