I write classic "good vs evil" creative writing pieces with smart twists inspired by vintage action cinema, gaming, and heavy metal.
The nighttime is the worst of times to be in grave danger with every direction you turn having the potential to join your pursuers. Everything is fading away into the omnipotent darkness with no light to guide you out. Every last nerve in your body is on edge and close to exploding as your brain is running out of options and your limbs getting less reliable. Doors and windows slamming shut when people inside, equally as scared see you struggling to catch your breath.
Deathly afraid that whatever is chasing you will get them too; all in the name of helping someone they never met; a dubious compensation when choosing between life and death. To say the very least. Resident's faces looking at you with the same "Nothing I can do!" expression as they hide.
However, the story begins as most such events do; with a normal daily routine.
"Come on, Wolf, the dinner's getting cold!" an impatient woman's voice broke the cemetery-like silence of a dark, nervous office. The room was dark despite the time being early afternoon; lavish wooden furniture absorbed incoming light to protect the darkness. A bald man who surprisingly, looked athletic for his age sat at his desk waging a futile war with his nervous twitch.
The woman's voice didn't reach him till several seconds later. The veteran soldier Wolf Bohm snapped out of his trance.
"Amy," Wolf replied with his barely noticeable but somewhat prominent German accent, turning away from a computer screen, "I think something is very wrong; Gustav has not replied yet and today was supposed to be a very important conference call between us and General McGuire."Suddenly, as soon as he finished, a message popped up reading; "Tonight. 00:00 Warehouse District. DON'T BE LATE!"
"Must be Gustav," Wolf said with relief, "Alright, let's sit down and eat."
"Must have issues with his Internet," the German thought to himself as he stood up and headed for the kitchen alongside his wife; introducing a fairly normal day for the German. However, this was just easing him into a night of insanity with the only consolation being that his deceased partner Gustav Blecher didn't get a warm welcome before his past gutted his future.
Wolf, unlike his former partner, wasn't as important considering he wasn't a scientist but rather, a member of the security detail for the experiments the Third Reich conducted long ago; composed of the best of the combat veterans from the Luftwaffe and the Wehrmacht. Wolf was a falschirmjager. (Airborne) However, security personnel getting "promoted" to test subjects was not out of the question; especially in the desperate situation the Reich found itself in after several shocking defeats on the Eastern Front.
As Wolf drove to the rendezvous point as agreed, he was contemplating, "Why would Gustav choose the Warehouse District, especially at this time?!" By day things were normal but fairly recently, news stories talking about that same address sprouted titles like, "Kidnapping Victim found Dead - possible cult involvement." "Psycho Killer Roams Forests - District-Wide Manhunt ensues." Disturbing photos were suitably attached to every such title. It grew into a very dangerous area overnight.
As he pulled up and parked his car, Wolf pulled out his Sig Sauer P228 handgun, covertly checked its ammo and stowed it; he didn't want to become the next morning's cover story.
The Warehouse District was almost desolate, nothing but warehouses and labor camps, accompanied by grocery stores and a gas station so, it was very quiet; even the smallest sound was heavily exaggerated in the deathly silence. The veteran German paratrooper, having participated in the airborne invasion of Crete began sensing danger nearby. Wolf slid to the closest wall, hand on his concealed holster; ready for some midnight, semi-automatic quick-draw with whatever was stalking in the looming dark.
The night, as if noticing the Swiss-made handgun, answered him with several hissing noises; sounding like several bare feet sprinting across dry leaves. Quieting down for good after a moment. Wolf, looking around one last time, adjusted his trench coat to hide the gun and called out to his former comrade.
"Gustav?" the paratrooper, still cautious, expected an instant answer.
Only the night wind replied to his call but, Wolf didn't mind that at first; "Maybe he is inside the warehouse" he thought to himself as he felt around for a door handle to enter the structure. Suddenly, out of the dark corners, someone grabbed Wolf; silencing his mouth and holding him down; attempting to keep it quiet.
"Take it easy, NYPD!" the darkness identified itself, "Keep it quiet, this is a covert operation!"
Wolf, stopped resisting, lowered his posture and enquired in a whisper, respecting the initiative.
"What is going on here?!"
"You read the news about the murders with cult involvement? Well, I tracked a lead to here and this arrest could bring them down!"
"I am looking for a German, he was supposed to meet me here," Wolf asked with a total disregard for secrecy.
"All I saw were gibbering insane psychopaths and abominations no one would ever call human!" the cop responded, "Not a word of German or even anything resembling human speech!"
Wolf, unholstering his P228, enquired, "Let me help you, maybe they got to the man I'm after and I've been to war before, dispatching several lunatics after it ended."
The cop, despite some doubt about tag-teaming with a civilian, agreed.
"Alright, but follow my lead and avoid the gung-ho trash; a baby step towards the latter and you are among the bad guys to take down!" he affirmed taking his H&K P7K3 pistol off safety, "Be careful, we got a whole building full of nervous breakdowns; maniacs either killing one another, destroying everything or freaking out at the smallest of noises; shoot to kill."
So, the unlikely alliance between a paratrooper who seen mankind's most brutal war and a modern police officer was formed and commenced sweeping the building. Both men saw their fair share of horrors but Wolf spent the remainder of the war in dark places which would turn an average soldier completely insane. Deep inside the catacombs where the Reich's most brilliant and twisted minds tried to reinvent the wheel at any cost, he braved and lived with horrors that earned many names upon discovery. All of which meant evil in the cultures of the beholders.
A die-hard areligious Soviet kommisar who, after getting rescued by another squad sent after him into the dark, began genuflecting profusely while reciting a mangled version of what he hoped were prayers despite his subordinates warning him that the NKVD may be listening; even Stalin's wrath paled in comparison. He was among those who saw what was inside. Many experienced soldiers saw monsters, ghosts and even the devil himself down there.
Wolf also remembered how the Allied Powers and the Soviets were hastily sealing the entrance to the catacombs; "proper channels" be cursed. He then remembered when a few things that were haunting him back then were escorted into cages; also deep inside top-secret military facilities. Wolf, alongside other remnants of the Reich, was brought to America secretly, however, while the scientists were put to research and development for their new country, he was tasked with controlling what the Reich hid away. Living in underground bunkers, getting overpowering anxiety when someone so much as mentions anything to do with going to lower levels and even a failed suicide attempt after top brass gave the green light on a suggestion to "let them roam free." The highly trained German paratrooper would rather die than live in immovable fear of something no one understood.
Fast forward to the present day, Wolf and his only ally were scavenging a warehouse for answers; the screams, cries, and sounds of things breaking were no bother at all. Especially if that is the least of problems. Both men came across a mutilated carcass; it was still fresh, therefore, whatever killed the person, was nearby. Wolf suddenly, felt what haunted him his entire life ever since the last days of World War 2. Something that hammered at the steel doors of his quarters, something that stared at him through cages and windows during the "roam free" time in American facilities.
"Fritz" Wolf thought out loud as he raised his gun and fired without aiming; his ally followed suit. However, the fight ended with the cop on the floor bleeding out; holding onto his gut and losing touch with this world. The former keeper of the abomination managed to dodge the former's charge and fire off a few more rounds. "Fritz" turned around but this time, the other denizens of the cursed warehouse showed up too; as if on command; they stopped and staring at the lone German paratrooper; sizing him up and trying to predict his next move.
The only means of escape the stranded remnant of the Reich had now is a 2-story fall.
© 2020 Jake Clawson