Gast: Volume 1: Dead to rights. (Gothic Horror) (Completed)

Pretend we're Dead: Extract 2.

"Can you state your name for the tape?" James placed the recorder onto the glass table and sat back and made himself comfortable, trying his best not to reveal his excitement to the interviewee. A man of questionable reliability; liver-spotted, balding and newly weened from heroin. Despite this, this was the best lead imaginable to an old nagging question. What happened that night at Anderfield?

"George Washington."

James raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

"I get that reaction all the time." George smiled a false and strained smile, his hands cupped tight, knuckles locked together; leg tapping.

"Can you state your source of employment during the Anderfield exodus of 1988?"

George spoke and responded with a dry rasp, he was more nervous than his body ticks implied. Why?

"...eriff."

He coughed again, picked up the bottle of water, and drained it. The discoloration of his lips were the telltale signs of dehydration. James stood and retrieved another bottle of water from his fridge.

"Remember this is just an interview for research purposes, there's no reason to be nervous," he said passing George the second bottle of water.

George nodded, unscrewed the cap of the bottle and drank the water until empty. James heard the water running down through the man's system and it gave him a sense of familiarity. It was strange that certain things did this, after all, James could not remember ever being that thirsty.

George wiped the sweat from his brow and relaxed his posture, yet his feet continued to tap on the hardwood floor.

"Can you repeat yourself for the tape?" James asked in a soft tone, so as not to spook him, who had seemed to have slipped into a trance of sorts.

"County Sheriff for Jericho, and first lawman on the scene."

James smiled and leaned forward.

"My research into public records disagree with your statement. By the official statement, Winberg Country was the first on the..."

"I know what the fucking statement was; I'm telling you, it was horseshit, I was the first lawman on the scene."

"Let's start with the beginning. What do you remember?"

"Everything, it's burned in my memory, The graffiti, the mist, and the bodies..."

"I thought no remains were found, that everyone disappeared?"

George narrowed his eyes and sighed.

"Officially, they disappeared."

"Unofficially?" James asked clenching his fists bone white.

"Check under the old football stadium, you won't need to dig too deep."

xxx

James stood beneath the shadow of the stadium, and it looked a little weathered but no worse for wear. The grass that was once the pitch was unlike any other. A forest of weeds, unmowed, and allowed decades to cross-pollinate and inbreed. James was thankful that he'd changed into a long-sleeve shirt before leaving the borrowed home that he'd spent the night sleeping in, and the better part of the morning spring cleaning, before following George's lead.

He knew why; he was afraid that George was far from insane; that he was perfectly sound of mind. James wished that the tip would be a dead-end, but something about the way George stared at him that fateful day, told him it wasn't. After a few hours of procrastination, James embarked on the journey to the stadium -- spade in hand, and muscles shaking with anxiety.

He roamed through the long weeds, cutting a path through to the epicenter of the stadium, mindful of the row, upon row, of empty seats. In an ordinary town, these seats would have been nothing but background. However, this was not an ordinary town; this was Anderfield, a town where the ghosts haunted and lurked the mundane, and roamed the streets. James shuddered as the grass receded and revealed a perfect circle of raised soil. A mound of earth obscured by the weeds. His grip tightened on the shovel and he drove it into the earth. A clear high pitched whistle floated over from the seats above and James jumped his heart racing. He looked up and that's when the chorus of cheers exploded from the seats.
James dropped from fright, falling on his ass in the mound and hitting his head on a rock. As the world darkened and his vision blurred the seats filled with blurred forms and the weeds around him receded back into the earth. The world was spinning, forever spinning, throughout the entire history of the planet it spun. James had lived for 35 years and never felt the earth spin: until now.

xxx

James sipped the hot caramel hot chocolate from its mug and Clara smiled as he moaned in gratitude.

"Thank you." She mumbled, the smile faltering from her face.

"For what?" James asked still relishing the drink that Clara had made for him.

"It's been so long since I've been able to make that for someone." She sighed.

James coughed to clear his throat and put down the cup with reluctance.

"So, what can you tell me about the Anderfield exodus?"

Clara nodded.

"Everything, I was there when it happened."

"What happened?" James asked eagerly flipping open his notepad.

"Everyone started screaming."

"Continue."

"And then they stopped."

James lifted his eyes from the notepad.

"But not you?" he asked.

Clara sighed and nodded.

"Why not?"

Clara reached across the table and placed his hand in hers before gripping it tight. Tight enough to sink her nails into his flesh.

"I was already dead."