Tonight You Die; Tomorrow You Wake

Hello, I am Lieutenant James Harwood. This is my diary. And because it is a very odd story, I don’t expect you to believe me. Hell, even I find it hard to believe and I lived it.

Regardless, I feel responsible to say this in the case it happens to anyone else. Even though it’s unlikely, it’s still possible. Whether you want to believe me or not is completely up to you. But remember, this-- even in words-- is not for the faint hearted. We start our story in central Canada.

I was working in my office. Papers stacked up like towers, my chair squeaking every centimeter I moved, phones ringing every five seconds, and the horrid smell of donuts and coffee. At least I’m seated by my best friend, Kyle. But even with him around I still missed the feeling of being outside. The feel of wind in my hair, the smell of the moist air, the feeling of making a difference with my partner and best friend.

It’s no surprise, I also missed the chase.

Now we’re stuck inside. Now, if he’s not working, Kyle’s on YouTube. Watching people play games is what gets him off. He shows me a few videos from time to time. I have to admit they’re all pretty enjoyable. I even went as far as subscribing to most of their channels. I feel bad about one of the YouTubers, a guy who’s usually funny and optimistic but also willing to get serious. He told us about losing his friend. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose one of your best friends.

“Really makes you miss the outdoors doesn’t it?” Kyle said with a large grin on his face. I could tell he was being sarcastic.

“Not sure,” I muttered “On the one hand I miss the breeze, on the other hand I’m not one for loving mosquitos. Besides, in here we’re less likely to be shot.”

Kyle looked at me for the longest time, his blank icy stare caught me off guard. “Damn,” he started “You know you don’t have to answer so seriously. Besides there’s no reason t-“. Just before Kyle could finish, the building went black.

It was dark, so dark I could barely see my hand in front of my face. Even the sun light from outside was gone. The darkness was met with silence, since no one knew what was happening. Were we under attack? Was it a power outage? Whatever it was, why couldn’t we see the sun? Before any of us could speak, the sound of something falling down the stairs broke the silence. It was loud, and sounded heavy. The new question of “What was it?” began racing through my mind. Could it have been a ruler or maybe a stapler off someone’s desk upstairs? No, it sounded bigger.

Just before the object from upstairs hit the floor, the sun light poured in as if it had been hiding. We could see again, but once we saw the object we would have given anything to be blinded once more.

The object was a jaw.

It looked to have been ripped out of somebody’s face. The flesh and skin were still on it as well as the blood. A few teeth were missing and others were chipped. But who did it belong to? And why didn’t any one upstairs scream for help? Could this all be some sick joke? Finally, a few of us decided to check things out. What I saw was horrifying, what I realized was worse.

Blood, hair, and feces smeared over the walls, floor, windows, and ceiling. The windows were broken from both inside and out. The jaw still rested at the foot of the stairs, but there wasn’t a body in sight. The thought of what might have happened made me throw up a little in my mouth. But what really scared me, was that all of this happened in absolute silence. The windows themselves are bullet proof.

Shattering them the way they were would make more than a whisper. “What the hell happened here?” said Josh. Josh was our blood spatter annalist, so if he doesn’t know what happened how the hell are we supposed to?

“I don’t want to know what happened, I want to know who happened.” I said. I felt like I was about to collapse and scream my head off.

“Who could do this in thirty frickin’ seconds?” Kyle yelled. I’m glad he was getting emotional, I started to feel like the only person in the room.

I couldn’t sleep that night. Just kept thinking about the blood, the smell, the faces of my friends, the shock in their eyes, but most importantly the silence. Looping through my mind like a roller coaster.

Hitting me like a bus. Burning me like a fire. And a bunch of other similes that meant I was depressed.

The point is, I couldn’t get any sleep. The next morning went by slowly. The entire building was under surveillance from the FBI and CDC. “Damn Americans,” said Kyle “Always getting in the way.”

One of the agents stopped what he was doing and looked at Kyle straight in the eyes. “Allez vous faire foutre salope.” The agent said.

“We’re not in Québec douchebag, I have no idea what you just said!” Kyle yelled. The agent went back to work. I agree with Kyle that the agent could have been more understanding, that not all Canadians speak French, but even I know what he said.

“If the FBI is here does that mean whoever did this is American?” I asked.

“Not necessarily, but whomever it was, was in America for a while. This specific killer just passed through.” The agent specified.

I guess there’s no need to worry then. At least, not for long.

“Lieutenant,” Kyle started, “They’re saying we need to go home.” So early? Why did we even come at all? On the way back to my car I noticed something that struck me as odd.

Chocolate candy wrappers were over the grass like a sheet. The candy lead into, or came out of, the woods across the street. Instead of going home I decided to follow them. I walked for what must have been a few hours. There were more and more candy wrappers the further I went. Some leading to other locations, but all, eventually, reconnecting and leading to the same source. I finally made it to an abandoned warehouse where I found a young boy. He seemed to be about six or seven years old, and he was just sitting on the porch eating chocolate.

“Hey, kid, where are your par-“. Before I could finish it was pitch black.

I woke up inside the warehouse with a headache and scratches on my clothes. I tried to get up off the chair I was seated in and discovered that I was handcuffed to the chair. With my own bloody handcuffes. In front of me I could see the little boy still eating chocolate, a grocery bag of chocolate beside him and a teenaged boy petting the child as he ate. The teen had a nametag that said his name was Jacob. There was no last name. I was cold as snow and a deep chill forced its way into the building. “Look who’s finally awake. So, where did you come from?” Jacob asked with attitude.

“More importantly, who are you and why are you feeding that boy so much chocolate?” I asked, frustrated and confused.

“Wait, you mean you don’t know what we are?” asked Jacob.

“Honestly, I couldn’t care less. I just want to know who or what killed those good hearted police officers. And how they did it in perfect silence.” I said.

“Yeah, sorry about that, those officers took the boy’s candy so they had to be punished. You understand.” Jacob said with a fire in his eyes. “As long as I feed the boy chocolate, he does anything I say.” He said. “He’s my follower.”

“Kind of sounds pervy.” I said with a convoluted smile. I was trying to piss him off.

“Don’t call me a pervert you…” He stopped as the boy next to him put his hand on Jacobs shoulder. The boy’s hand was trembling, not with fear but with anger. “W-what are you doing?” Jacob asked the child.

The boy said nothing. He just sat there. Both Jacob and I could see the boy’s nails were becoming claws, his eyes were glowing a light purple. To be honest, the color in the boy’s eyes reminded me of Saints Row. A game Kyle had played in the past. It was a strange thing to think while a little boy eating chocolate was transforming into some sort of monster before my eyes. In what seemed like a split second, the entire room went black. No, the entire building went black. I was surrounded again by that strange nothingness.

Once I could see again, there was the boy standing in a puddle of blood clearly not his own. And Jacob was nowhere to be seen. Yet, at the same time Jacob was everywhere to be seen. His skin, hair, blood and nails were all over the place. A black gem was on the floor covered in gore.

The boy picked it up. “I don’t follow you, you follow me.” He said. “Oh well, time to make a new follower. I hate when they feel they’re in charge.” The boy spoke quietly, almost whispering.

He approached me calmly holding the gem as if a blade. What he said I’ll never forget for as long as I follow him. And the words still haunt me today.

He said, “Tonight, you die. Tomorrow, you wake.”