“Andrew, you don’t have to go through with this!”
“Come on Andy, you’ll never make it to the checkpoint by yourself...”
The voices – they came from two people he’d grown accustomed to over the passing weeks. Or was it months – years, even? Damn it, Andrew silently cussed. There’s no hope left if I can’t even remember what fucking day it is.
But he’d ventured too far now... and seen too much of glorious freedom to just let it slip away. I can make it, he thought. Just keep sharp, and remember everything he taught you.
The cold winter winds slashed his ears, pleading a quick return to where it was safe and warm. As he furthered through the dying forestland, the scene became growingly darker and more frightening than he could comprehend.
Snap. Snap. Snap. Each desecrating footstep through the broken twigs and branches echoed out like a crow’s call. Those voices that he cared for, they were fading. Good, he thought. They took their own advice.
The rags which once might’ve resembled clothes stuck into his dry flesh in these harsh conditions, the closest thing to warmth he would get for a long time. “I’m coming, Ma.”
He picked up the pace, remembering exactly what was at stake. How long was this post-apocalyptic graveyard? Home was so far away from here, and he knew it all too well. But what had become of Glasgow since he left? If it’s like this shit-tip, I’d rather be dead.
The blanket of night was soon to fall on the forest, a blessing from the Devil. That’s what he called it, thought Andrew, digressing within the realms of his own mind to a happier place. When he thought back to those days, where safety hadn’t been a deprivation, a little fire of hope ignited in his mind. “If he can do it, so can I. Just remember the rules of the road.”
The rules of the road... After hours of aimless recital, all twenty-three were imprinted in Andrew’s memory like a bad smell. In fact, he was certain that over the past few weeks, he’d been forced to learn more than when the university hadn’t been reduced to rubble. You can never escape school, he smirked. Damn it Dad, you were right.
“That’s right, Andrew... you definitely don’t have to go through with this...”
He stopped dead. Like a bad chill, the smug and condescending whine of the Lurkers was unmistakeable. They would descend on him like the sunlight, wiping away all pain once and for all if he didn’t act fast.
What had that crazy SOB advised? Sure, they’ll talk to you every now and then. But like any family member you’re trying to avoid, all you’ve got to do is avoid their calls and run. Did that even count as a valid lesson? I thought his guidance was overrated, Andrew thought, but this is just bullshit.
As he waded through the woods, pumping his arms for acceleration, the voices continued to sneer and cackle. Untraceable, they travelled and bounced from one side of the shrubs to the other, like a call-and-response system.
“Andrew, we are so very hungry... starving, as a matter of fact...”
Andrew smiled. They’ll also make up crap about hunger, but don’t believe a word of it. I’ve seen them pricks face-on, and there’s no way that they have intestines. Perhaps some of his advice wouldn’t go unused?
With each whisper and shout, Andrew felt himself pick up more and more speed. He knew deep down that what they were saying was just to get inside his head, but it was working. It wasn’t what they were saying, so much as it was the way they were saying it. They were animals, and it wouldn’t take much for one of their beastly kind to pounce on him.
Blackened faces, scornful red eyes, and teeth sharp enough to tear through titanium. That was how Andrew knew to distinguish them from the rest.
“What’s the matter Andrew – the cat finally got your tongue...?”
Andrew was reluctant. He bit his tongue.
“It’s not going to work, you know... Nobody ever escapes our home alive...”
“Piss off!” Andrew snapped, his voice echoing through the woods, and silencing every specimen of wildlife. The moment the words escaped his mouth, he cursed himself for responding, and stopped dead still. He could almost hear what the man would be saying now. Oh look at that, you’ve gone and done it now haven’t you? You should’ve taken my advice, Andrew. Never respond to the Lurkers. Well, it was too late.
All of sudden, a sharp gale brought him to his knees, crippling him. His eyes darted around, but the enemy was out of sight. A searing pain shot up his spine at the agony of a second blow, this time to the back. A bombardment of invisible fists thundered into his body, merciless and ultimately destructive. Each demonic fist felt like a lead ball to the face, and he was quickly thrown face-down into the dirt. As his mouth opened to cry, he convulsed into a deathly agony.
The voices, just to rub salt in the wounds, were laughing.
“Ha-ha-ha, we knew you could not resist...”
Andrew could see the gates of death open before him, black and unwelcoming. The taste of blood was ripe on his tongue. It was only a matter of time before climax. I know you don’t like me, Andrew, and to be perfectly honest it wouldn’t pain me in the slightest if you met a grizzly death right here and now. But like everyone, I’m giving you a single lifeline, should you need it. Oh God, Andrew panicked, remembering the day that he had been too arrogant for his own good. He’d refused help – even said that if he were to meet death, he would take it without question. But now that it was coming for him, it didn’t seem so great after all. Just call my name...
“Such an easy kill...”
Just call my name...
“Almost too pathetic to bother with...”
Just call my name...
“But you will die like the rest of them...”
Just call my-
“LURK!” Andrew bellowed, throwing his voice into the heavens with his last breath.
Suddenly, the beatings stopped. The voices stopped. The chaos... stopped. It was all at the mention of one name, and somehow that was all it took.
The next voice to sneer at him resembled actual fear. “His name has not been mentioned for some time...”
Relieved of the Lurker’s grip, Andrew coughed and panted like a startled dog. Staring at the ground, he thanked God for giving him a few more moments of life, even if they might potentially be brief.
But that gratefulness soon disintegrated, as a pair of slimy black legs solidified in front of his eyes, attached to matching, spiked feet. To see the lower half of the beast was a “privilege” given to few, as Lurk had said. Lurk...
“Miss me, lads?”
A different voice... Andrew looked up, and took in a good glance of the beast’s scaly and repulsive face. With tree-trunk arms, and the glowing inferno eyes it was just the sight a man expected to see before demise.
Looking around, he saw many more of the beast’s kind start to form – an army of the dead. Cloaked in tattered robes, they hovered majestically in the air, their skeletal toes grazing the ground.
Every single head was looking leftward, so Andrew felt inclined to copy. The source of the rough, deep and menacing voice had emerged from within the wilderness. But all that was in sight were the wide-trunk trees, barely disturbed by the presence of an unknown. If Andrew’s suspicions were correct, things were about to get very, very messy.
The leader of the Lurker pack stepped out, cocking his head from side to side. “Where are you?” he hissed, joined by his kin in a chorus of cackling and jeering.
Out of their mouths came clicks and sounds similar to the language of Afrikaans, only noticeable because Andrew had paid attention to one of the mandatory lectures at university. But whatever link there was, he could not see. These were freaks of nature – not human, and certainly not from an African tribe. He and all the others in his position had witnessed what the Lurkers were capable of, and how little the loss of a life meant in their culture.
While their attention was taken, he chose the opportunity to slide away, carefully and unnoticeably shimmying towards the trees on his backside. All the while, his eyes were fixated on the area where the voice had come from.
“Sorry for the inconvenience, lads...” and at that, a hooded figure emerged from behind a tree.
His black hooded jumper, broad-shoulders and Halloween mask would have scared anyone unlucky enough to encounter him in a dark alley at night. But for Andrew, this was what he’d so dearly taken for granted.
Looking like more of a looter than a saviour, Lurk wasn’t a fashionable bloke. But as he stroked the semi-skeletal zombie mask, it became clear that this mystique of appearance affected the way which Lurkers saw him.
If it wasn’t completely out of question, Andrew might’ve taken notes for his sociology coursework.
“Your presence is an honour, sir.” The head Lurker stayed quite still in the moment, bowing his head with an alarming sign of grace.
But this act of respect just added to the tension, and everyone could see it. Lurk’s head seemed to survey the area, before registering Andrew’s safety behind a tree trunk. In a micro-gesture, he nodded the message “stay put” without any verbal suggestion.
“So what’s it gonna be, then?” Lurk asked, dramatically revealing the baseball bat from behind his back.
All the Lurkers could do to respond is erupt into contagious laughter. As they did so, blackish liquid splattered from their lips. Lurk’s fingers tensed around the bat handle.
“You may be respected, Lurk, but you have chosen to put a mortal before your own. And for that, you must pay the consequences.”
“Fair enough, I guess. But would you mind answering me one question?”
The Lurker’s eyes tensed with suspicion. “What is it?”
“Where’s your friend gone?” Lurk gestured to where Andrew had previously been sat.
The heads of the seven Lurkers turned away for just a second. But that’s all he needed.
Andrew recoiled into a defensive ball as the first of the Lurkers screamed out, helplessly taken by a brutal assailant. Thump. Thump. Scream. He clenched his fists. Thump. Thump. Scream. The process was continuous, each time causing him more repulsion. Thump. Thump. Scream. Thump. Thump. Scream.
Silence...
Wary seconds drifted by. Andrew hesitated when craning his neck around the tree trunk, a mixture of dread and relief on his pasty seventeen-year-old face.
When his eyes locked on the scene of massacre, confusion re-entered the equation. Face down in the wet grass, seven corpses lay motionless, all in different and peculiar dying positions.
The man of the moment himself, however, was nowhere to be seen. Like he always did, Lurk verified the contract with his signature – a calligraphic ‘L’ – engraved deep into the ground. Lurk had killed again.