Molly (1/10)

Chapter 14

Frank sat in the apartment, arms crossed.

"Frank?"

Frank went over and opened the door. Brandon stepped inside, a cigarette hanging from his lip.

"So?"

Frank shrugged. "It smells bad enough. I still haven't opened the door. No way I was going to do it without you."

"Just the usual shit."

Frank shrugged again, closing the door.

The lights were off. When Frank tried to turn them on, only a dull throbbing echoed. Nothing out of the ordinary so far as he could see. Some trash, some overturned chairs, but none of this was abnormal anymore.

Brandon turned his light on, and so did Frank. They began to make a preliminary scan of the complex, Brandon shoving some furniture to the side while Frank stared at the scratches on the wall.

"Frank."

On a desk made of wood were what looked like books. Many of them were in bad shape: bindings scrapped, pages torn.

Frank flipped through the first book.

He whistled.

"1938."

Brandon snatched the book. "Let me see."

After he had confirmed Frank's observation, he shook his head. "I don't like this."

"It's just some collector. So what?"

"Frank, when's the last time you've seen a book published before two-thousand?"

Frank scratched his beard. "Hell, I don't remember when I last saw a book period."

"Exactly. You wanna know where the disease came from? Weirdos like this guy."

"Why, because he read books?"

Brandon stared hard at Frank. "Yeah. People shouldn't know anything. Makes them bad."

Frank blinked once, then Brandon left him, going over to the one door in the back and opening it, quickly wrapping a hand around his mouth.

"Shit!"

Frank nearly dropped his gun. It was massive, an entire tumor stretched against the back part of the room. Must have once been the restroom, though the growth had become so large it was impossible to tell. Boils, twisting tentacles--hollow craters where Frank imagined eyes might have been, watching him, waiting.

"That," Frank said, covering his mouth, "is not fucking ordinary."

Brandon took a step back, then slammed the door shut.

"We need to go."

Frank stared at him.

"Brandon, there is no way in hell--"

"Shut the fuck up," Brandon said, coming so close so quickly Frank nearly hit him. "Shut the fuck up, and let's go. What do you think is going to happen if we tell people this shit?"

"Brandon, you're being stupid. That's a fucking monster in there. We can't just, what--ignore it?"

"Yes," Brandon snapped. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. They'll clear the whole building and then people will start talking. We are not surrounded by friends. We aren't surrounded by anything--it's just fuking air. We can't let shit like this get out until we can do it the right way."

Frank laughed--he couldn't help himself. "Brandon--"

"Stop saying my fucking name and let's go."

A click.