28 Sep A Nightmare Made Flesh

Troy Davis, a stalwart of the mines for over three decades, lived a life shaped by the grit and grind of the subterranean world. However, one ominous morning, the very mines that defined his existence became a perilous trap. A reckless explosion had reverberated through the labyrinthine tunnels, sealing Troy and twenty other brave souls beneath the earth’s unforgiving surface. Their cries for help, muffled by tons of earth and rock, were met with the profound silence of impending tragedy.

Rescue efforts, albeit valiant, arrived too late to save Troy and his fellow coal workers. Their fate remained a baffling enigma, even after the mine’s yawning maw was pried open, revealing an eerie void where human life once thrived. The absence of bodies compounded the mystery, but authorities reluctantly declared Troy and his comrades dead after a harrowing two-week wait. Among the wreckage of shattered dreams, Troy left behind a widow, Emily Davis, and their son, Martin Davis.

Life took a drastic turn for Martin, who, despite the burdens of adolescence, found himself shouldering the responsibilities of an adult. High school graduation became an elusive dream as he juggled multiple full-time jobs to keep the family afloat. Yet, amid the toil and turmoil, one relentless question gnawed at his soul: What had truly transpired in that accursed mine? The inexplicable disappearance of his father and the other miners defied logic.

In the quiet night hours, Martin’s mother, Emily, often found solace on the porch, her grief-drenched heart held together by heavy doses of medication. Meanwhile, Martin’s own restless nights were haunted by recurring nightmares of the ominous cave. In one of these waking terrors, he could hear desperate voices trapped within the subterranean abyss, begging for salvation. His dreams echoed with heart-wrenching pleas and the sound of crumbling rock as phantom hands reached out for a savior. Martin would wake up drenched in cold sweat, the clock cruelly reminding him that it was only 2 a.m.

A faithful companion, his dog, had always nestled beside him, offering comfort in those dark hours. But on this particular night, the dog was nowhere to be found. As Martin scoured the house, his dread grew with each step, only to find both the door and the screen door flung wide open. An unexpected pang of panic surged through him. Had his mother inadvertently left it open? Reluctantly, he resolved to venture outside, something his mother would have never permitted under normal circumstances.

With hushed tones, Martin called out for his dog, the words trembling on his lips. But the night remained eerily silent, save for the rustling of leaves. As anxiety gnawed at him, a disconcerting notion began to creep into his mind—what if the dog had ventured toward the coal mine? The idea seemed absurd, even preposterous, yet it clung to him like an ominous shadow.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Martin berated himself for such irrational thoughts. Nevertheless, curiosity and concern pushed him onward, and he set off toward the foreboding coal mine. As he drew closer, an uncanny sound reached his ears—a faint, distant whimper. It was his dog, he was sure of it! The faithful companion was frantically scratching at the wooden barriers that typically sealed off the entrance to the mine.

In a desperate bid to retrieve his beloved pet, Martin called out with mounting urgency, but his cries fell on deaf ears as the dog burrowed beneath the crude barricade, disappearing into the heart of darkness. Fear clenched Martin’s heart, and he knew there was no turning back now. With trembling resolve, he steeled himself for the impending descent into the depths of the mine, praying to reunite with his loyal friend and unearth the truth buried beneath layers of earth and time.

Just as Martin was on the brink of embarking on his courageous journey into the enigmatic cave, a sudden blaze of headlights pierced the inky darkness. Red and blue sirens painted the night in a surreal kaleidoscope of colors as a car pulled up. The driver’s door swung open, and a stern-faced police officer emerged, casting an imposing silhouette against the shadows. For Martin, this unexpected arrival brought a glimmer of hope. “Thank goodness,” he thought, “maybe this officer can assist me.”

However, his optimism was promptly dampened as the officer barked, “Hold it right there, kid! What are you doing out here at this ungodly hour? Your parents must be beside themselves with worry. You can’t be more than 12, right? I’m taking you back home this instant.”

Defiance welled up within Martin as he refused to comply, desperation evident in his voice. “You don’t understand, Officer! I woke up, and my dog was gone. He’s in that coal mine right now!”

The officer, sporting a cynic’s grin, dismissed Martin’s plea with a wry comment. “Ah, the classic ‘my dog ran away’ tale. I may have been born at night, but not last night,” he quipped, clearly doubting Martin’s sincerity.

“I swear, Officer, I’m telling the truth! I can’t leave without my dog!” Martin’s words carried a resolute conviction this time, prompting a flicker of curiosity in the cop’s eyes. Stepping out of his vehicle, he illuminated his face with a flashlight, casting an eerie glow on his features. “Are you Martin Davis, Troy Davis’s son?” Martin nodded as he dashed back towards the cave, determined to break through the wooden barrier.

This moment of truth seemed to break through the officer’s skepticism, and he beckoned Martin to step aside. “Out of the way,” he commanded, forcefully dismantling the blockade. “Okay, if we’re doing this, you stay close, got it?”

“Yes, sir. Um… don’t you usually call for backup in situations like this?” Martin inquired.

A sly smirk danced across the officer’s face. “Backup for a lost dog? Are you kidding me? I’d never live that down at the station. Now, come on, let’s go before I change my mind,” he retorted, adding, “And call me Darrel, not sir.”

With a flashlight, Darrel entered the cave, its pitch-black recesses concealing untold secrets. “Here, lassy! Or whatever your dog’s name is… Show yourself and make our lives easier, would you?” he called out into the abyss, his voice echoing through the eerie silence.

“His name is not Lassy; it’s Shadow!” The boy hollered at the officer.

Minutes ticked away, the oppressive darkness seemingly growing heavier as uncertainty loomed. “Shadow! Come on, boy, it’s time to end this game,” Darrel urged. But there was still no sign of the elusive canine. The mines, creepy enough in daylight, took on an unsettling, otherworldly aura when the world above lay cloaked in stillness and darkness.

“I’m not leaving without him!” Martin’s fervent proclamation echoed through the cavern. Shadow wasn’t just a pet; he was the last living connection to Martin’s father, Troy Davis. The bond ran deeper than mere companionship; Shadow was family.

Darrel could sense the unwavering determination in Martin’s voice, even as he tried to persuade him. “Listen, I can call for reinforcements if you go home now. I’ll have twenty officers searching this place in no time.”

Then, as if in response to Martin’s unwavering resolve, a ghostly whisper seemed to drift from the depths of the cave—a voice, faint yet hauntingly familiar. “Dad! Dad, is that you!?” Martin exclaimed.

Ignoring Darrel’s attempts to restrain him, Martin broke free and dashed toward the source of the voice. But now the officer recognized the voice as well and began helping Martin. “Troy! Troy Davis, is that you!? Hold on! We’re coming to get you out!”

The voice grew louder and more distinct but was still obscured by layers of stone and debris. Darrel joined Martin’s frantic efforts to reach the other side. “Don’t worry, we’ll have you out in no time,” he assured Troy, though his futile attempts to radio for backup revealed the unforgiving limits of the cave’s isolation. The mine’s unfathomable depths swallowed their pleas, leaving them alone in a subterranean world of shadows and echoes.

As the haunting echoes of his father’s pleas reverberated through the cold, oppressive darkness of the mine, Martin found himself in a heart-wrenching dilemma. Tears streamed down his face as he shouted back, “How do I save you? What am I supposed to do?” Meanwhile, Darrel struggled with his malfunctioning radio, inching closer to the mine entrance desperately trying to establish contact.

Troy’s voice, a mere whisper now, penetrated the desolation, instructing his son with a sense of urgency. “Get the dynamite. Blow a hole in the wall. There’s still some scattered through the cave. Do it before the officer returns.” Panic seized Martin as he frantically scanned the black abyss for any signs of dynamite. In his desperation, he was about to give up when his foot made contact with something solid—a stick of dynamite.

“Dad, I don’t have a lighter! I don’t have anything,” Martin lamented, his voice trembling. In response, the voice urged, “Take the officer’s gun.” The suggestion sent shivers down Martin’s spine. “What? Are you serious? I can’t do that,” he protested.

“Martin, I’m dying! There’s no time to think. I’ll be gone before help arrives. Please, help me, son!” Troy’s words hung heavily in the stale, suffocating air.

Struggling with fear and uncertainty, Martin grappled with the moral dilemma before him. Going through with it would undoubtedly mean facing dire consequences, but his father’s life hung in the balance. With a heavy heart, he made his choice. He stood up, determined to act, and began his treacherous approach to the officer who was still visible in the distance. How he would disarm him and obtain the gun remained a daunting question.

As Martin observed the officer, he noticed the weapon secured in a holster on Darrel’s hip. The boy was wrestling with the immense challenge when suddenly, a piercing scream shattered the eerie silence. Darrel swiftly drew his gun, his panic palpable. “Get back, Martin! Stay behind me, got it!?” he barked, his voice fraught with fear. “We’re getting out of here.” The shriek seemed to emanate from the other side of the mine, and Darrel, gripped by panic, slammed his gun hand against the wall. In his frantic state, he accidentally fired a shot and dropped the weapon.

Seizing the opportune moment, Martin snatched the gun and then the flashlight while the officer was momentarily off guard. “Martin! Get back here! What the hell are you doing!?” Darrel roared in a fit of rage, his pursuit of the boy unhindered.

Terrified but resolute, Martin raced back toward the rock wall, aiming the flashlight and the gun at the bundle of dynamite. The first shot missed the tension mounting. Darrel’s furious shouts echoed through the cave as Martin fired again and missed again. Panic consumed the officer as he screamed, “What are you trying to do!? You’ll kill all of us!”

The next shot struck the dynamite, triggering a deafening explosion reverberating through the mine. Martin and Darrel were thrown to the ground as the flashlight clattered across the floor, casting its beam over the now-clear path through the rock wall.

Darrel staggered to his feet, his ear ringing painfully as he yelled at Martin, “I can’t hear out of my right ear! Get over here; you’ll listen to me from now on.” He grabbed the boy’s trembling hand, his anger palpable, before retrieving his gun and holstering it. He then retrieved his flashlight, leaving Martin with a sense of trepidation.

“Darrel, wait!” Martin shouted desperately, but the officer’s anger had reached its limit. He began to retrace their steps, ignoring Martin’s pleas. However, a groan from behind interrupted their retreat. The noise seemed to emanate from the ground, and gradually, both Martin and Darrel turned to witness an eerie sight—a figure or something else crawling along the cave ceiling.

“What on earth is that…” Darrel muttered under his breath, his voice filled with an uneasy blend of wonder and dread.

As the creature’s head slowly pivoted, its piercing eyes bore down upon the officer, casting an eerie, malevolent glare that sent shivers down Darrel’s spine. Martin, too, found himself captivated by the unnerving sight before him.

The creature, now in full view, revealed its nightmarish form. Its long, sinewy limbs extended like wraith-like tendrils, gripping the cave’s uneven surface with a chilling grace. The elongated fingers ended in sharp, dagger-like claws, each one capable of slicing through solid rock as effortlessly as a blade through butter.

Its mouth, a jagged maw of nightmarish proportions, displayed rows of teeth resembling cruel, serrated spears. Each tooth gleamed with an ominous malevolence, ready to tear through anything in its path. But it was the creature’s eyes that truly captured their terror. Sunken deep into its face, those eyes radiated a crimson glow that seemed to pierce the very soul of anyone unfortunate enough to meet its gaze.

The creature’s desiccated skin clung tightly to its skeletal frame, a deathly pallor accentuating the protruding bones beneath. Its complexion bore the ashen gray of the grave, a spectral visage that whispered of long-forgotten horrors. In the dim, subterranean gloom, the creature bore the unsettling likeness of a gaunt skeleton, an unearthly specter clawing its way back from the abyss of the afterlife.

As the nightmarish creature inched ever closer, its malevolent eyes locking onto the trembling officer and the terrified boy, it seemed as if all hope had dimmed. Martin and Darrel, paralyzed by fear, could only hope the nightmare before them would dissipate like a fleeting shadow. But then, a sharp bark echoed through the tunnel, piercing the ominous silence like a clarion call of hope. It was Shadow, the faithful dog, charging past the beast, past Darrel and Martin, like a streak of salvation.

“Shadow!” Martin’s joyous cry rang out as he saw his loyal companion. But their elation was short-lived as a blood-curdling shriek erupted from the creature, a signal that summoned others of its kind. These were no ordinary creatures; they were enigmatic horrors that defied understanding.

As Martin and Darrel made a desperate dash toward freedom, they soon discovered the creatures were swifter than shadows, materializing before them in the blink of an eye. Darrel’s flashlight illuminated the ghastly visage of one of the creatures, but it disappeared just as swiftly as it had appeared, playing sinister tricks on their minds.

As the tension in the darkened mine escalated, Officer Darrel and Martin inched closer to the terrifying confrontation with the creature lurking above. The suffocating stillness was shattered only by the eerie echoes of dripping water, amplifying their anxiety.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

The creature lunged downward from the black abyss above with a sudden, violent motion. Its elongated limbs reached out with malevolent intent, and its razor-sharp claws glinted menacingly in the dim light. The monstrous entity descended upon them with the swiftness of a nightmare.

A cacophony of panicked screams filled the chamber as Darrel and Martin recoiled in sheer terror. Time seemed to slow as the officer realized the imminent peril they faced. He tried to raise his gun, but the creature’s blinding speed was incomprehensible. In the blink of an eye, the monstrous claws struck.

A sickening, wet sound filled the air as Darrel’s hand was severed from his arm. The officer’s agonized cries pierced the darkness, blending with Martin’s horrified shrieks. Blood sprayed from the gruesome wound, showering them in a crimson rain.

Darrel’s pain was beyond description as he clutched his bleeding stump, his face contorted in anguish. The officer’s wails reverberated through the mine, a haunting chorus of suffering. He staggered back, stumbling over the uneven ground, his vision blurred with excruciating pain.

In the dim light, the sight of his severed hand, still gripping the gun, lay grotesquely before him. It twitched and convulsed on the ground, a reminder of the relentless ordeal that had befallen them.

Frozen in terror, Martin could only watch as Darrel’s lifeblood gushed from the wound. The officer’s screams grew weaker, his life force draining away with every passing moment. Darrel’s face contorted in a mask of agony as he fell to his knees, unable to comprehend the reality of his maiming.

The creature, its grisly deed done, retreated into the shadows above, leaving a traumatized Martin to witness the gruesome aftermath of the brutal attack. Darrel’s life hung in the balance, his agonized moans echoing in the dark recesses of the mine.

As the officer’s strength waned, he gasped for breath, his voice a feeble whisper. The blood-soaked ground beneath him served as a gruesome testament to the relentless horrors that lurked in the mine’s depths. Darrel’s life was slipping away, the darkness closing in as the mine bore witness to a tragedy beyond imagination.

Martin, paralyzed by fear and despair, clung to the futile hope that somehow, against all odds, Darrel might survive this nightmarish ordeal. But the mine’s oppressive darkness and the relentless malevolence of the creature threatened to engulf them both, leaving them to face a fate too horrifying to contemplate.

“Darrel!” Martin’s voice quivered as he cried out in despair. But his pleas only drew the creatures’ attention. Screeches soon filled the cave as Martin and Darrel made a harrowing run for their lives, but the entities were relentless, always just a hair’s breadth behind them.

Mustering his courage, Darrel aimed his gun at the approaching horrors and fired. The deafening shots reverberated through the tunnel, halting the creatures in their tracks. One of the bullets struck a creature directly in the head, but to their dismay, it merely ricocheted harmlessly, leaving the beast seemingly unharmed.

The unthinkable happened as the scene in the dark mine chamber continued to unfold. With its grotesque appearance and insatiable hunger for terror, the creature descended upon Officer Darrel unmercifully.

Darrel, already grievously wounded from losing his hand, could barely comprehend the horror that awaited him. He attempted to scramble away, his eyes wide with terror, but his strength waned with every passing moment. The creature’s presence was overwhelming, casting an icy shadow over the officer’s diminishing hope.

The creature’s long, gnarled limbs seemed to extend infinitely as it closed in on Darrel. Its piercing red eyes glowed in the dim light, fixated on its helpless prey. Its ashen, desiccated skin clung tightly to its skeletal frame, giving the abomination an aura of death itself.

Time seemed to slow to a torturous crawl as the officer struggled to draw breath. Finally, the creature’s claws closed around Darrel’s neck. The officer’s screams reached a crescendo of despair as he gasped for breath, his face contorted in agony.

The creature’s inhuman strength seemed boundless as it effortlessly lifted Darrel from the ground, suspending him in the air like a marionette. The officer’s futile struggles and desperate pleas for mercy filled the chamber, but they fell on deaf ears.

As the officer’s lifeblood gushed from his maimed body, the creature’s gaze remained fixed on Darrel’s anguished face. It was a tableau of unrelenting terror, a nightmare made flesh.

And then, with a final, gut-wrenching twist, the creature severed Darrel’s head from his body. The officer’s death was a spectacle, a horror that defied description.

As Darrel’s lifeless body crumpled to the ground, the creature’s insatiable hunger was momentarily sated. It stood amidst the blood-soaked carnage, a silent sentinel of terror in the heart of the mine.

Frozen in abject horror, Martin could only watch in numbed disbelief as the scene unfolded before him. Darrel’s lifeless form lay sprawled on the cold, unforgiving ground, his head severed from his body in an act of malice.

The mine seemed to pulse with an otherworldly dread, and the oppressive darkness pressed in on all sides. Martin, left to confront the unimaginable sights that lurked in the mine’s depths, could only pray that he would somehow survive this relentless nightmare.

This brief respite allowed Martin to distance himself from the horrors pursuing him, but Darrel’s life hung in the balance. One of the creatures closed in, its clawed hand slashing through the air with deadly intent. The officer’s head, severed from his shoulders, tumbled to the ground, his lifeless face etched in terror.

“Darrel!” Martin’s anguished cry echoed through the cave, but there was no response. Desperation clung to him like a suffocating shroud as he realized the creatures were closing in on him next. The situation grew increasingly dire, his survival resting on a knife’s edge.

In this dire moment, Shadow, the loyal canine companion, approached Martin with a ring clutched in his mouth, keys belonging to the police vehicle. “I can’t just leave,” Martin murmured to himself, contemplating the impossible decision he faced. Yet, climbing into the police car, he found solace in knowing it might be their only hope.

Thinking for a few moments, Martin looks back at his dog. “I’m about to do something very stupid. I feel like a poorly written-character in a horror movie. Here goes nothing.”

Before starting the engine, Martin notices what resembles a gun on the dashboard. On closer inspection, however, it turns out to only be a flare gun. “Lot of good this will do me,” he said to himself before tossing the gun out the window.

Martin donned his seatbelt, turned on the car’s engine, and drove recklessly toward the cave’s entrance, heedless of the consequences. The car’s collision with the tunnel barricade sealed their fate, sacrificing itself to obstruct the creatures’ escape. But the impact took a toll on Martin, knocking him unconscious.

Outside the cave, Shadow barked frantically, his concern sincere. As the car’s fuel tank ruptured, gasoline flowed onto the ground and into the mine, the threat of an imminent explosion looming. Shadow’s urgency intensified as he barked incessantly, prompting Martin to stir back to consciousness.

Awakening to the scent of gasoline and the looming danger, Martin frantically extricated himself from the wreckage. His forehead seeping with blood, he glanced at the dog; reality dawned on Martin as he realized the impending catastrophe.

The police car rattled violently, its occupants—monstrous creatures from the abyss—desperate to escape. “That won’t hold them for long if we don’t do something… any ideas, Shadow?” Martin questioned, gazing into the dog’s eyes.

Shadow signaled Martin to look at the fuel tank beneath the car with a determined bark and a nudge. “I can’t believe I’m considering this,” Martin mumbled to himself, grasping the flare gun he found. As he aimed it at the pool of fuel, he took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

The flare ignited the gasoline, causing a blaze to erupt beneath the car. Screeching in fear, the creatures within the mine retreated from the flames. “Are they afraid of fire?” Martin wondered aloud as he watched part of the mine caught fire, reducing the haunting sounds to mere echoes.

The boy could hardly believe his eyes as the creatures, whatever they were, fell silent and retreated into the depths of the burning cave, their malevolence extinguished by the consuming flames.

A whirlwind of emotions churned within Martin as he grappled with the nightmarish reality unfolding before him. His first instinct was to reach out to the authorities, call the police and seek help. Yet, a wave of paranoia washed over him, chilling his resolve. Fear gnawed at his mind, whispering that no one would believe his harrowing tale of creatures lurking in the depths of the coal mines.

As he wandered through the darkness, his only companion, the faithful Shadow, Martin’s inner turmoil spilled out in a frantic soliloquy. “What the hell do I do, Shadow? Call the police? No… they’ll think I did this! No one will believe there are creatures inside the mines. What am I doing? Talking to a dog that’s what I’m doing. I’m losing my mind!”

He marched forward, the anxiety and uncertainty of the situation tearing at the edges of his sanity. “I’ll just explain it was an accident. No, I’ll be locked up for life. No! No one can know about this, Shadow.” The dog, unable to offer more than a confused look, followed Martin as they journeyed toward home.

Despite his internal struggles, Martin’s determination carried him forward, driven by the need to keep this dreadful secret locked away from prying eyes. “No… no one has to know. This will all clear itself out,” he muttered, haunted by the sinister events in the cave.

As they neared home, Martin’s heart sank at the thought of facing his mother while grappling with the horrors he had encountered. “Hey, hold up! Don’t wake up, Mom!” he admonished Shadow, who seemed equally eager to reach the safety of their haven.

Inside the darkened house, Martin breathed a sigh of relief. He tiptoed quietly, ensuring his mother remained undisturbed, before retreating to his room. The computer screen flickered to life, the only illumination source in the room. Sleep was a distant concept for Martin, given the night’s terrifying events, so he resolved to seek answers, no matter how unsettling they might be.

With trembling hands, he typed his fragmented thoughts into the search bar: “Pale blue,” “Ash skin,” and “creatures in the coal mines.” The results were far from comforting, as one of the first suggestions led him to a topic he could scarcely believe—zombies. “No way. These are way more terrifying than zombies,” Martin muttered, his voice trembling with unease.

“These are no zombies. Zombies aren’t immune to bullets; they don’t climb on ceilings or move with lightning-quick speed,” he reasoned, determined to unearth the truth. His relentless search uncovered a chilling reference to Wendigos. Images on the screen bore an unsettling resemblance to the creatures he had encountered.

As Martin delved deeper into the lore, his voice quivered as he read aloud, “Wendigos are completely immune to the cold and have skin-like armor. The only way to weaken their skin is with fire. But burning them to death will release their spirit that can then be transferred into another host’s body.”

Chills ran down his spine as he considered the implications of his discovery. “They can mimic voices… just like Dad,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Tears streamed down his face as he grappled with the horrifying knowledge.

Martin skipped sections of the text, searching for any information that might illuminate the creatures’ malevolent abilities. His voice quivered as he continued reading, “Unlike other terrifying carnivores, the Wendigo doesn’t rely on pursuing his prey to capture and eat it. One of his creepiest traits is his ability to mimic human voices. He uses this skill to lure people in and can mimic any voice that it’s heard before. They can also shapeshift into other animals or a human form.”

Overwhelmed by dread, Martin leaned back in his chair. “I can’t believe this… it feels like they can do just about everything except fly.”

He turned to Shadow, his loyal companion, and a chilling thought struck him. “Wait a minute! Is that why you ran off, boy? Did you hear Father’s voice? Did you hear his voice and go running off to the mines?” The dog wagged its tail in response as if to confirm Martin’s suspicion.

Their silent understanding was interrupted by a haunting revelation. “The most frequent cause of transformation into a Wendigo was if a person had resorted to cannibalism, consuming the body of another human to keep from starving to death during extreme hardship or famine.”

Disgust gripped Martin as he covered his mouth, the revolting idea lingering in his thoughts. “You don’t think… all those in the mines, trapped under the rubble for days… you don’t think they resorted to killing one another and dining on their flesh, do you?” Martin’s voice quivered, his body shivering uncontrollably. Sleep eluded him as the night stretched. A chilling darkness mirrored the horrors he had uncovered.

The morning sunlight pierced through the curtains, casting an eerie glow across Martin’s face as he sat fixated on the news broadcast. His eyes were locked onto the television screen, desperately scouring for any mention of the horrors he had witnessed the previous night. Occasional glances toward the porch revealed his mother, a silent, distant figure lost in her own thoughts, as she always seemed to be. No words were exchanged, no questions asked; their worlds were solitary islands drifting apart.

The news anchor’s voice echoed through the room, and Martin’s heart raced in anticipation. He watched with bated breath as they discussed the events of the night before. His mind was a whirlwind of emotion and fear, tethered to the screen as if his life depended on it.

The report began with the disappearance of Officer Darrel, a missing person case now tainted by allegations of alcohol consumption while on duty. Martin clenched his fists, knowing the truth was far more sinister than what the news host portrayed. They speculated about Darrel crashing his police cruiser into the coal mine due to inebriation, but their theories couldn’t have been further from the horrifying reality he had witnessed.

The broadcast continued, stating that traces of Darrel’s blood had been found, suggesting that he was wounded but still unaccounted for. Martin’s heart sank as he remembered the gruesome decapitation, a sight etched into his memory. The news crew reported on the cave exploration and the removal of the car that had once blocked the mineshaft, sending a shiver down Martin’s spine. The knowledge that the creatures might be free to roam filled him with dread.

Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, the shrill sound of a police vehicle parked outside disrupted his thoughts. Panic clawed at his chest as an officer emerged from the car, striding purposefully toward his home. The officer’s knock echoed through the house, each sound amplifying Martin’s anxiety.

“What could he want?” Martin muttered to himself as he stood and cautiously approached the door. As he swung it open, he was met with the officer’s gaze, who removed his sunglasses before speaking. “Sorry to trouble you. We’re in the middle of an investigation right now. Not sure if you’re aware, but one of our officers has gone missing.”

Confusion gripped Martin, his mind racing to comprehend the officer’s purpose. “What does that have to do with me?” he asked, his voice quivering with unease.

The officer leaned in, revealing the gravity of the situation. “Well, we have reason to believe that Officer Darrel wasn’t alone. I found a good amount of footprints or shoe prints, one might say, that lead up to right about in this area, all the way to the mines. Your father worked in the mines, did he not?”

Martin felt a chill creep up his spine as realization set in. He knew what the officer would ask next, and a surge of panic washed over him. All his grief and fear had clouded his judgment, and he hadn’t thought to dispose of any incriminating evidence.

The officer’s gaze remained fixed on Martin as he continued, “This is a very distinct shoe print that we found, worn by someone… I would say about your age if I were to guess. Would you be okay if I took a look at your shoes?”