Monsters don't scare me. They never have. I was never that kid that asked their parents to check under the bed. I never worried at Halloween. You expect violence from monsters. You expect fright. That's why I don't believe in them. I think this world is wicked enough without a vampire or the boogeyman to worry about. It's people that scare me. And right now I'm terrified. If you're reading this, my name is Shellby. I live in Southern California. I'm probably going to die tonight; and I think someone should know about what happened here.
There was something charming about the remote piece of land my family moved onto. Like an itch on your back you just can't reach, I couldn't quite pinpoint what I liked about it here. Its too hot, I cant ever quite find good cell reception, and a quick trip to the beach with my friends now costs me 50 bucks in gas. I've always been a big city type, but the small town if 500 down the road was relatively cute and the quiet nights refreshing. I'm telling you all this from a shed I haven't left in two days. I can hear their voices, muffled on the other side of the locked door and their footsteps wandering around my house 50 yards away. There's a spare refrigerator in here, a solar power system that I'm charging my phone on, and some tools. I've eaten the leftover Subway sandwich and drank the last of the water this afternoon. I'm scrunched between it all on the ground. I can feel my knees starting to ache and at the age of 22 my back feels like I've lives three of my lifetimes. But I'm still alive. All I have left in here are three beers. I'm waiting until I gather the courage to leave to drink them. I figure Pacifico is a nice last meal.
I'm being cynical, but maybe when I tell you what went on on our little plot of land you'll understand why.
It was dusk when my dad sent me to the shed for a hammer. The sun had disappeared over the mountain ridge leaving every cactus and all 4 members of my family in a gray hue. I hiked the small hill to the ramshackle shed. I'm accustomed to keeping an eye out for mountain lions while walking alone. When movement caught my eye I stopped short. At first I couldn't tell what the figure was that was crashing through the brush but as I stood there, perfectly still, I saw that it was a man. He wore tattered jeans and a flannel shirt. A backpack beat against his back. Something was attached to his face. Uncomfortably close to where I was standing, and I unable to decide what to do, he ran straight up our property line, west toward the mountains.
Just as quick as he was there, the man was gone. He only turned to look at me once. Gas masks have always freaked me out, and this was no exception. I couldn't see his face, only the wide eyes and large mouthpiece under brown matted hair. With my own eyes as large as saucers, I watched as he raised one finger to his lips. He disappeared into the desert trees.
I was a little shaken as I opened the door to the shed, trying to comprehend what I had just seen. Rarely had I ever seen anyone on foot out here, let alone barreling through the desert. Resolved to simply tell my father about it, I went to searching for the hammer.
My mother's voice as she called out to my father was the first thing that alerted me to the danger I'm in now. The next was the roar of engines coming up our driveway. Curious, I turned and walked a few steps over to glance. My mom and dad were standing at the end of the driveway. I remember my mom's hand waving me back toward the shed. With my heart pumping in my chest, I retreated.
The next few minutes went by too fast for me to put everything into words. Slamming of doors, unfamiliar voices shouting, my mother screaming, a gunshot. By the time I snatched myself our of the trance I was in, I could hear my brothers yelling from inside the house. "Search the perimeter!" someone yelled. With a gasp, I flung myself into the shed and slammed the door behind me.
Eventuality the sounds of footsteps alerted me to someone in the area. Pressing myself as far back as I could go, I held my breath. The handle rattled.
"Locked." said a voice. It sounded muffled.
"Just leave it." said another. The voices were deep, too mechanic for me to tell if they were male of female, as if speaking through a machine. My spine shuddered. "Lets go back to the house, see what we can find." As the footsteps retreated, I finally let out my breath. In puller out my cell phone and nearly cussed out loud at my lack of reception. Perhaps it would come back.
It hasnt. My wifi works fine. I dont know jack crapola about technology, but I cant get into my Facebook or email. The passwords have been changed. Nosleep, youre the only contact I have with the outside world. I'm leaving this shed. I have to find out whats going on - why the screaming has stopped. I need answers. I cant sit here anymore and do nothing. Besides, this Pacifico isnt gonna last me forever.
Submitted August 04, 2015 at 10:40AM by helpmshellby http://ift.tt/1Dp7eEt nosleep
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