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

Special Announcement : Gast: Volume 3 - Pretend we're Dead - Extract 1

This Chapter is for those that supported Myself, and Gast, without these heroes this story would have never reached completion: nor become what it is going to become a Trilogy.

So, I'd like to thank you all for the massive support and encouragement by REVEALING the introduction to Gast: Volume 3: Pretend we're Dead.

James drove through hail, thunderclaps, and the high winds with a fractured windshield — the remnants of Elk remained despite the rains. He would have called it bad luck and left it at that — this wasn't some shitty misfortune, anything, but. This was an omen, of the turmoil in his gut, that began the moment he decided this town was next on his list.

He was a mile from his destination, and it showed. The traffic had lessened to near nonexistence, signs of human life dwindled, while wildlife grew. Elk had been a nuisance, from the start, standing idle in the road, dashing through uncaring of the high-speed vehicle, four times they darted, and he slammed on the brakes, skidding on the loose gravel road. He'd seen no more Elk since the one that was unlucky. He drove through the disused street, the hybrid car mottled with blood and fur — James eased his foot from the accelerator, and reached across to the passenger side seat for the hunting rifle.

They watched from the center of the road: alpha at the rear, snarling, two betas at the front, the wolf pack. Their eyes fixated on him, indifferent to the hail that pelted them, he rolled down the window, shouldered the rifle, and shot wild. The hillside boomed, he expected them to break formation and flee, but they remained. Despite the mottled fragments of elk on his car, James liked animals. He owned more than his fair share of dogs in his lifetime, and in another, he could have been a vet. It pained him to do this, but they were bridging the gap between them. He had no choice — he shouldered the gun, aimed at the runt of the pack, and fired. The shot was clean - the wolf, dead, and the pack scattered.

He was close to the epicenter, now — to the town, that had overnight, vanished from the map. Five thousand people gone — no mess — no struggle — just gone.

"Ghost towns — Why do I do this to myself?"

You know why.

James clenched his fists as the weathered sign of the town marked his arrival.

Anderfield, population 5,000.

Nightfall claimed the town. His car eased down the main street at a crawl while he shined a flashlight at the houses that passed him by. Like any small town homes — they resembled each other in every respect — new builds, less than two hundred years old, empty; silent. James didn't know what was more unnerving, the silence, the darkness, or the vibes he was getting.

Yawning, he stretched his back in the driver side seat. The drive had exhausted him — his eyelids grew heavier by the second, sleeping in the open like this terrified him. What if Anderfield, had residents? — What if they roamed the night? Hoping to happen across their dinner, a dinner that slept in James' car, husks gathering around him; and shattering his windshield. The car wasn't safe — far too exposed.

He swept his flashlight across the dark street and saw another omen. Not all omens are bad: this omen came as an unlocked front door. The house seemed like any other; from the outside — they all needed basic work; upkeep against the elements.

James sighed, taking heed to bring his rifle with him; whatever lurked within; he would be ready — not that a rifle would work on a ghost. He exited the vehicle, taking a second glance at the backseats before shaking his head and locking his car. Advancing in darkness, was a mistake — he tripped over loose bricks and almost lost his footing, he didn't feel safe exposing his location with the flashlight, no, he would brave the dark, even if it put his frenzied mind at rest, and nothing more.

The flashlight illuminated the house's interior and his anxiety dropped — it was mediocre — nothing creepy about it. The family photos lay over the disused fireplace — tacky decor, and art scattered the house. It didn't have a cellar nor a converted attic — that was a plus. The owner's car remained in the garage, waiting. How long must it have waited before another human crossed its path? The VW bug was spotless, protected by a tarp, the kitchen appeared to be like any other, save for the rot and dust.

Gripping the bannister, he ascended the stairwell. The boards groaned — If anybody was insane enough to ascend these stairs, while he slumbered, he'd hear them. The bedroom and bathroom were next. No unpleasant revelations in the bath, no skeletons. They have modified the bedrooms into one room; the walls hammered through, to form one grand and lavish bedroom. Save for the dust and cobwebs, this room would be comfortable; no bed for James tonight, even if the room had passed the cleanliness inspection, he'd still fall asleep on the floor, curled in his sleeping bag.

James positioned the rifle within reach and settled down for the night, hoping that the nightmares would be few, they were so few; he had none.

xxx

"Hello?"

James darted upright, gasping.

The voice so clear and real he almost unloaded a round into the ceiling, he swept the flashlight over the room, and relaxed back into a restful sleep, the rifle cradled in his hands.

"What's your name?"

"James."

"Ashley."

"Hello, Ashley."

"Sleep sweet, James."

xxx

James woke to the midday sun filtering through the blinds, he wasn't holding the rifle any more — he looked everywhere before realizing the rifle had wedged the door shut. What the hell had happened? Had he woke in a trance-like state and wedged the door shut? He must have... Was someone trying to open it? James had locked the door from the inside, why the hell had he wedged it also, it made little sense.

Sleep sweet, James.

He shuddered, it was just a slither of the dream, but it was clear enough to understand — he'd dreamt that he wasn't alone in the room.
Anderfield was proving to be the one ghost town he may skip out on — If every night was this strange — he wouldn't last three days.

His stomach growled — ejecting him from his inner workings, and he made his way back to his car, and the food stockpiled within the boot. The sunlight should have eased his suspicion, and anxiety of this place, but it didn't, he was as distrusting as ever of this town, the silence still unnerved him; despite the wildlife not being shy of humans there were no animals.