Glen stared at the phone. Had it rung? He frowned as he stared at it. His mind was occupied and for once, he looked back instead of forward. He looked back on all the decisions that had brought him to this point, but he shied from looking forward at the consequences. His father had always drilled into to him to know the consequences and now he did, but he dreaded to think about them. He jumped when the phone did ring, pulling him out of his thoughts with a sharp mental twist that made his head ache.
“Glen?” the phone asked.
“Here” he responded.
“Its decision time” the phone challenged.
“I know” he sighed. Even though he had quit years ago his hands reached into his coat pocket searching for a cigarette “Look give me a remote fly over, out of Dover, nothing to final yet, there could still be some hope.”
“Alright, and Glen.... you should issue a statement.” The tone made it clear that it wasn't a suggestion.
“Yes, it’s probably time for that.”
General Glen Statton dropped the phone in its cradle. He looked at the pictures on his desk. He saw his wife and daughter staring back at him, their eyes bright with accusation. He heard a knock at his door. He looked at the solid oak door and beckoned the knocker to enter. His aid was a young man, barely half of Glen's age. Consequences, he thought of them again, and of being young. Do the young really know them? Does anyone?
The young man started when he saw Glen staring at him. “Sir?” His aide asked. “Is everything alright?”
A rough laugh, almost lunatic, escaped his throat. “Is everything alright? No, son, it isn’t. It is not all right in the least.” He turned his back to his desk and the phone waiting expectantly on it.
**************************************

At 23:36 a statement concerning the rural coast of Maryland was issued. Exactly one minute later, a Blackbird left the runway from Dover Air Force Base.
Colonel Clayton Parente had long had a love of flying, from the crop dusters of his father's fields in Kansas to the jump seat of F-4's over Vietnam. During those years he was nervous about flights, but never afraid, until now. He had been shaken out of bed and give vague instructions about his task. Fly southwest over the Chesapeke Bay to Richmond. He shook his head and scowled, although it was useless gesture inside his flight suit. He was flying at a suitable altitude for recon which was different, but not entirely unusual. He had flown similar flights over Vietnam but never one over American soil.
This whole operation stank of something the spooks would cook up. He banished these thought from his mind and focused on flying. A smile briefly flitted across his face. He glanced at his altimeter. Although it wasn't regulation he decided to take it a little lower, a somewhat foolish maneuver, but something he had always enjoyed.
The vanished smile came back as a pleased grin this time. He had finally reached Richmond and he radioed for orders. All he got was a 'come on home.' He was still irritated that he was missing a well deserved rest for a half assed assignment, but he knew how he could take his mind off it. The Blackbird was an incredibly fast plane, so he decided to slow it down and take the machine even slower. The grin grew into a full fledged smile now.
He heard the consol make a strange beep and looked down at it. According to it, he was approaching the Chesapeake Bay again but from the south. He took it just a bit lower. His consol beeped again and he frowned at it. According to the plane there were other aircraft nearby. His frown deepened into a glower. Even though the air was only lit by the moonlight his head swiveled around searching for the unknown aircraft. He saw nothing and his head turned back to eye his consol. The beep was accompanied by a flashing light which didn’t entirely capture his attention. After glancing at it on and off, he tore his eyes away from the heads up dispaly and looked out at the open air. This time he saw the shadows cast by the moonlight began to move. He had always been familiar with birds of prey and the shadow he glimpsed could remind him of that but horribly distorted. From what he could surmise, it seemed as if the head was too small with most of the weight being in the wings. From the shadow we could tell that it wasn't one form but a flock of whatever type of strange creature this was.
With wide eyes, he realized just how fast he was going. And the birds were keeping up with him. He stared at them as they got dangerously close. The largest shape suddenly veered away then rammed itself into the fuselage. His eyes were jerked away by the sound of an impact on the side of the cockpit itself. He didn’t see the bird hit but he did see the remains of it. It seemed more leathery than flesh like and he suddenly thought that these weren't birds, but insanely large bats or crows. As he heard the sounds of impacts up and down the plane, a look of full blown terror made a home on his face. He twisted in his seat to look and he saw the flock split into two smaller groups. They were concentrating around the two turbines at the end of the plane.
“S***, S***, S***!” He screamed, then his hand shot forward for the throttle. He was about to depress it when he heard a horrendous sound from his plane. He had grown up on a farm in Kansas and knew the sounds animals made at night. The one that had always unnerved him the most was when the horses started to scream. The plane made a sound akin to that but worse and goose bumps erupted all along his body.
Various lights flashed to life on the consol. He shut his eyes for a moment to master himself. He trained for a life time of situations like this. His hands flew around the cockpit, accompanied by the awful noise from the engines. His hand paused just as he was about to pull the ejection lever and he twisted back to look down the plane. He took in the two flocks, they had greatly reduced and his eyes focused on a black form as it dived into the engine, followed by a gigantic and ear grating sound. The turbines started to scream in protest and the consol started to flash even more to mirror the screech of the engine.
He pulled, and then yanked the ejection lever and the glass surrounding the cockpit shot off. Frigid wind slapped him in the face. He didn’t have time to make any sound before he was flung into the open air. His breath rushed out of his mouth as his eyes took in everything around him. Parente gripped the sides of the seat until he could feel his hands going numb; he caught some movement out of the corner of his visor. The cloud of birds, or whatever they were, was still in the air and they were coming towards him. He cursed, reaching for his side arm. His fingers scrabbled at the catch and as he began to shout, his eyes flicked up to the flock. They were closing in. He ripped the pistol of his leg and trained it on the onrushing birds. He began to squeeze of shoots, one or two birds fell toward the earth, but they kept on beating their black wings and rushing towards him. He managed to squeeze off two more shots before the flock reached him.
He could see them in much better detail. They had small beady eyes and leathery skin, more akin to bats than birds and the little devils had teeth. Parente began to scream as they reached him.
They perched all over his body their little claws digging in to him. He flung his arms all about himself trying to dislodge the creatures. They dug their claws into him and hung for a moment as if waiting for some unknown signal. Parente felt his breath catch and tried to fling the creatures off of him. But the animals ignored him and without warning, tiny pinpricks of pain blossomed over his body as if he were a piece of meat caught under a tenderizer. Under the beasts, bloody holes opened all along his flight suit. He screamed again, as he realized, suddenly and horribly, what was happening. The awful clarity was no comfort.
That entire fell to the ground was the parachute and the bloody ejection seat.
***********************************
Walter Allen's eyes creaked open and took in the tent around him. He propped himself up on his elbows and continued to look around. He looked at his wife occupying the sleeping bag adjacent from himself and he smiled, they had needed this trip for far too long. Things had been tense at home and this was the best chance to unwind they had had in quite literally a year. He silently extricated himself out of the sleeping bag, put on his shoes and crept out of tent, trying not to wake his wife.
The wild air slapped him in the face as soon as he stepped out and he took a moment to breathe it in. He spent too much time in an office and his smile broadened as he took in the sunrise that was peeking over Chesapeake Bay. He took a few minutes to attend to the necessities and once back in the camp site; he squatted by the fire pit, lit a new fire and began to make breakfast. Walter's eyes shot up when he heard a noise coming from his tent. His wife, in all her morning glory, stumbled out of the tent. Her hair reminded him of one of those troll dolls kids seemed to like so much and he smiled to himself.
“Good morning beautiful” he grinned. She mumbled something back and the only thing he could decipher was 'coffee'. He moved back to the fire and grabbed a cup. “Waters already boiling, I'll grab a packet from the bag and you'll have it in one minute flat” He smiled and stooped into the tent. He spent a moment searching through his bags. He found what he was looking for and he made his way back out of the tent to find his wife. She was standing stock still staring into the bushes off to the right of the camp site.
“Honey?” he called “You okay?” her body unstiffened and she turned.
“Yeah I'm fine” she wiped a hand over her eyes “Just thought I saw something” She trailed off for a moment.
Walter grinned “Was it the java monster?”
She sighed and walked over to him “Just give me the damn coffee” and punched him in the chest. His grin only intensified.
They spent the rest of the day enjoying the scenic beauty of the park, hiking and kayaking a little. Due to the lateness of the season, they saw few other people, but they still enjoyed their time together. It was dusk by the time they had reached their camp site. Walter began to rummage in the tent for dinner supplies when the sound a scream pierced the quiet. He rushed out of the tent to encounter a scene similar to the one he had seen earlier in the day. His wife was once again staring at the bushes. He grabbed a knife out off of his belt and now stood ready to fight, but he didn’t see anything. He rushed up to her side and took her face in his hands.
“Honey, what the hell was that?” he searched her face but her eyes were wild. “Honey focus.”
Her eyes finally met his and she began to speak “I saw something” she tried to finish her sentence but her eyes shot off to the side. Walter spun around knife at the ready. He didn't see anything. He turned back to face his wife. “Hey, hey” he attempted to calm her “there's nothing there, its okay.”
She began to breathe heavily, “Easy, easy its okay” after five more minutes of attempting to calm her she was able to speak again. Through her breathing he was able to decipher that she had seen some sort of animal.
“Well what did it look like?” he asked and she described some sort of cross between a bear and an ape.
He sat there for a moment staring at her “Are you saying you saw Bigfoot?”
She stared at him for a moment in indignation and smacked him in the chest “Are you kidding Walter?” she practically screamed at him.
“No really honey, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to offend” her eyes were still wild. “Okay look, I'll get one of the flashlights and we can look around okay?”
Arms crossed against her chest, she said, “Yeah, fine, we can look around.”
It seemed to Walter the only thing that could snap her back to her senses was being insulted. He shrugged confused at the complexity of the fairer sex and went into the tent for a flashlight. He returned and looked down at his wife and she stared back at him. “You ready?”
“Yeah I’m ready” she sighed seaming to have mastered herself. “Sorry I freaked out on you.”
“It's okay, let’s go. I promise you its nothing.” They set out around their camp, fanning out with the flashlights combing through the brush. After fifteen minutes of searching Walter heard her exclaim
“I found it!” She sounded satisfied. Walter ran over, fearful that she had found the creature that she thought she saw. When he found her, she was pointing victoriously at the ground. Walter stopped for a moment and stared at her.
“What is it, what did you find?” she crouched and pointed her flashlight at a spot on the ground. Walter leaned over her and examined the circle of light. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary, but then his eyes caught the large foot print in the middle of the beam. It was roughly a foot across in diameter, which scared Walter greatly. He had briefly researched the wild life in the are before leaving and he couldn’t remember anything that size. It shared the most resemblance to a dog's paw or that of a bear.
“What the hell is that?” Walter hissed.
“See, I told you I’m not crazy”
“I never said you were,” he paused and stared down at the circle of light. “But what in the hell could have made that print?” His wife was silent for a moment.
“Walter I want to go home” her plea was very silent.
“Yeah, I hear you baby, we still have the .45 packed in the car, could you grab it for me?”
“What?” she asked confused. “I thought you said you got rid of that!”
Walter sighed; recounting old arguments that he thought the trip had killed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and said “Well, it looks like…” his sentence was cut off when he heard something behind him. Crouching, he pointed his flashlight in the direction of it. The only things illuminated by the flashlight beam were the branches of trees and the brush. His wife was still standing stock still pointing her flashlight in the same direction. He grabbed the fabric of her shirt and pulled her down to his level.
“You heard that right?” Walter asked. She only nodded in response “Okay” he whispered. “We're gonna go to the car and we're gonna grab the gun, then get the hell out of here.”
She nodded her head emphatically. The pair began to make their way through the brush when Walter heard a strange noise. He had once taken a trip with his father to the heartland and he had seen insanely large flocks of crows. The sound was similar and at the same time, strangely disconcerting. Croaks and caws echoed from all the surrounding trees. He shined the light around himself and immediately wished he hadn’t. The trees were inhabited by some strange type of crow, there were hundreds of them, and once the light hit their eyes Walter flicked his light back to the ground. He tried to reason with himself it was early winter for god's sake what the hell were birds doing in Maryland? But he banished the thoughts from his mind took his wife's hand and hurried into the darkness.
Their car was parked a mile away what he had at first considered a nice hike but now felt as if he was running with a rabid animal at his heels. As soon as his fears were beginning to assert themselves he heard the birds go silent, then the sweeping sound of hundreds, maybe thousands of wing taking flight. He stopped, he felt his wife tugging at his arm, and he tired to banish the base fear from his mind. He forced himself to think and to rationalize for a moment.
“Walter, c'mon, I don’t want to wait around” his wife whispered looking around them.
“Okay, you’re right, look go get the gun its not too far, I'll be right here. If there’s somebody out there screwing with us I wanna' see, I don’t want to shoot some kids.”
“Okay, if you're sure” she said somewhat bolstered by her husbands show of confidence.
“Yeah, I am, you have a flashlight right?”
“Yeah I do” She motioned with the light and shrugged her shoulder unsure of what to say “Okay, I love you.”
“I love you too babe. I'm sure it’s somebody messing with us.” He thought back to the strange birds in the trees and felt his burst of rationalism begin to falter. He squatted in the middle of the trail and switched his light off hoping to catch whatever was following them. As he held his crouch, he heard the twigs snap just outside of his field of vision. His fingers attempted to find the on switch for the flashlight, but he resisted the urge and peered into the darkness. He wasn't truly afraid until he heard the noises start to come from behind him. He flipped around and couldn’t stop his fingers from flipping the light on. And the same as with the birds, he wished he had not.
Through the weak beam of the light, he saw the form of what was trailing them. The creature was large and hulking it had the sleek shaped of a wolf or dog, but was too finely muscled in the shoulders. It didn't have fur either, but some sort of ugly and oily black skin. A scream ripped from his throat and the flashlight tumbled helplessly from his fingers as it rose from the dark and leapt into the air. The beast was on him before the light hit the ground. It pinned him to the ground, rough claws digging into his shoulders. The animal’s head reared back, wicked teeth gleaming in the scant light coming through the trees. He couldn’t take his eyes off the teeth as they descended toward his exposed throat, whiplash fast. Then, just as quickly, its movement stopped and, it's misshapen ears cocked as if it was listening to a nonexistent whistle.
He took the opportunity to punch the creature square in the jaw. It reared back and let lose an amalgamation somewhere between a howl, a scream, and a roar of anger. It turned back to his throat, seeking retribution when he heard two shots ring out. Both he and the creature whipped their heads to see his wife standing in the glow of his dropped flashlight holding his .45. Smoke from the gun’s muzzle still drifted lazily into the air when another one of the animals burst from the darkness to tackle her. The gun went flying into the darkness. Soon her screams joined those of her husband.
They were found in the winter sunlight by two park rangers who quickly reported their deaths all they way up the chain of command to Glen Statton.
********************************
The next report issued from the office of Glen Statton concerned with the loss of an A-1 asset military surveillance aircraft: Blackbird, along with the pilot only mentioned as Colonel P and a note a about a couple who were found dead near Point Lokput National Park was hastily scrawled in the side margin. The whole report was read, blackened out, and then disposed of. Glen got more phone calls, then began to smoke, something he had not done in years. He made five more phone calls, spent four hours discussing plans with his superiors and his own staff and finally had a penultimate decision.
At 9:30 AM eastern Stratton’s last option was organized. He was a hopeful man and this was evidenced in his choice of response. Instead of choosing a more final option, such as a slate cleaner like nuclear fire or just simply carpet bombing the area, he chose to send in more bodies to investigate what had happened at research facility codenamed Black House.
***********************************
Captain Dawson Groves pulled ancient Ford to the curb of Dover AFB thinking that this was a strange day indeed. Awakened by a sanctimonious phone call, pulled off leave, he was then ordered to report to Dover before noon. He got out of car and slammed the door, then proceeded to enter the large and official building in the front of complex. As he walked through the double doors, he paused and rocked back on his feet. He had no idea where to go he had only been told to arrive at Dover. He stood there for a moment looking around at the directional signs hung up around wall.
“Captain Groves.” He heard a voice ring out, he looked around and found a man bedecked in ribbons and medals stalking in his direction. The man grabbed his hand in a vigorous hand shake. “Pleasure to meet you I'm General Abrams, Come with me.” Abrams didn't wait for any response, just turned and walked away. Groves fell into pace beside him.
Groves looked at Abrams who didn't spare him any mind but continued walking forward “Sir” Groves voiced. “Why am I here?”
Abrams stopped and stared at Groves straight in the eyes “You'll be brought up to speed as soon as necessary.”
Groves just nodded and continued following Abrams. They descended down multiple flights of stairs to the doors of a conference room. Abrams opened the door and held it open for Groves to enter.
“Sir?” Groves asked again, Abrams stared him down again “Stay here for now; we’ll have more people coming in shortly.”
Groves started into the empty room “Yes sir.”
Abrams gave him a curt nod and promptly turned on his heel and left the room. Groves look at the closed door and then examined the empty room. It was a simple conference room with exactly no one in it, only a clock, which he could hear ticking audibly. He chose an uncomfortable chair to sit and waited for half an hour. His eyes had drifted shut when he heard the door open. Abrams, with three men tailing him, walked inside. Abrams motioned to the empty table and the other men took up seats around it. They were all lank and streamlined with muscles evident even in their civilian clothes. He got up of the chair and shook their hands. They had grips like iron and grinned as they took each other's metal. Abrams snorted as he took in the spectacle of machismo.
“Alright boys, get the dicking around over and let's get to business” The men settled around the table and Abrams dimmed the lights. He turned around and was about to say something but he paused as if he was measuring each of his words. He turned to the men at the table and began to speak.
“Throughout all of your combined years of service you have all earned many commendations and merits which the United States thanks you for, and you have also earned the trust of the United States for which we value you.” He paused and licked his lips as if he was uncomfortable “And we also have an opportunity for you, if you choose to accept it.”
He eyed the group up and down. “Before you do, you’ll have to agree with a few conditions, I’m sure with your varying back grounds you’ve come across situations like this before.” He started passing around clip boards around they held a multitude of pages clamoring for the men to sign their lives away.
Groves spoke up. “Sir, before I put pen to paper would you mind telling me what this is exactly?”
Abrams nodded knowingly “Sign the first page then I'll squawk.” Groves raised his eyebrows and signed his name at the bottom of the first page. The rest of the men around the table did the same and Abrams nodded his approval and began to speak again. “The situation as it stands is a top priority, you men here aren't quite the final solution, but we're getting damned close. We want you to go in an assess the damage.”

He looked around at the men as if searching for some sort of affirmation. One of the others spoke up. He was an Asian man with a hawkish nose and short cropped black hair. “Sir, before we we assess anything might you tell us what the” he made air quotes with his fingers “situation actually is.”
Abrmas affixed him with a glare. “I was getting to that part, the” he mirrored the Asian man's air quotes “situation, is... well I don't know if I’m the best one to explain, but I’m the one charged with the task. As of now, the situation is we messed up” he pursed his lips and stopped for a moment then resumed. “Basically, we were playing with things that were totally out of our hands. I was only made aware of it recently, but if I had known, you'd be sure I would have stopped it” he said, trying to distance himself from whatever he was dancing around.
“The events are centered on a research facility in Maryland codenamed Black House. We had a lot of spooks stationed there, real occult type stuff, reminds me of stuff from the Eagle's Nest,” he paused as if taken back to a previous time. “In short, I got out of hand in a real bad way. Now, I’m not asking you boys to go in and clean up the mess, what I am, well the United States is asking of you is to go in and see if anyone is still there and if so bring them out.” He looked at the men sitting around the table and met their eyes individually, nodding in approval. “So what say you?”
Groves began the count off by responding “Yes sir” soon followed by the other men. A slight and mirthless smile crossed Abrams face, “Very good of you men, unfortunately that’s just about all the information I can give you. You'll be given a dossier en route” he looked around the room again and nodded “Good luck, gods bless and, god speed.”
He gave them directions to the armory told them to gather any gear necessary, then directions to the helipad and excused himself. The men took their remaining time to acquaint with the rest of their 'team'. There was Groves, the Asian man was named Masaki, the other two were both dark faced and very quietly introduced themselves only as Hern and Clovin. After the identities of the team were established, they made their way to the armory of the base, outfitted themselves, and then proceeded to the helipad as directed. There was one lone Bell Huey waiting for them on the helipad. Groves remarked how strange it was that there were so few people attending this mission and the others grunted their agreement: there were by nature and habit a quiet group. Before they boarded the helicopter, they were handed the aforementioned dossiers by the only attendant. They thanked the attendant and the helicopter took off giving them the last view of Dover AFB they would ever be lucky enough to see.
**************************************
During the hour long ride to Black House the men had a good opportunity to both read the dossier and express their wonderment. They were being sent in with next to no information. Masaki began to complain how they were being treated like mushrooms. It earned a snort from Groves, but little more than a pulling back of the lips from Hern and Clovin. Throughout the duration of the ride the stark contrast between the four men became more and more apparent. Masaki was trying to bring some levity to the strange assignment, but Hern and Clovin seemed to be islands of themselves. Eventually all the men retreated to their own private sanctums of thought and preparation rituals. By the time the helicopter had come to a steady hover over all of the men had made their way into their own private silence. Groves got up gripping the balance rail springing from the roof of the cabin. He looked out over the view from the doors of the helicopter; the only thing occupying his vision was the wilderness of the Chesapeake bay. He looked to the other soldiers sitting the cabin who shrugged in equal confusion. Groves slinked into the cabin and grabbed the headset occupying the vacant co-pilots seat. He settled it on and shouted over the roar of the blades trying to get the attention of the lone pilot
“What’s going on, where are we?” he yelled. The pilot hesitated a moment before answering
“Look” he broke eye contact and stared out over the swamp “All I know is I was supposed to bring you here, and I was told that you'd know what to do from here”
“All that's here is a damn swamp” The pilot shrugged and stared out over the swamp one last time
“Look y'all hook up to the rappelling rope and go on down, that’s the best I can do for you.” Groves stared at the man and could tell he was nervous, Groves thought to himself maybe some sort of word had circulated around Dover before they left. Groves shook his head and headed back into the crew compartment. He looked around at the men who were waiting expectantly
“Well it looks like this” he motioned out the open door “is where we are suppose to be, any ideas as to where we are supposed to be?” he asked hopefully, Hern cleared his throat
“Yeah, we've gotta hike through that swamp north about a mile or two.” Groves stared at him with incredulity
“And you thought just now to mention that?” Hern just stared back at Groves giving no response; Groves shook his head and muttered
“Well at least we know where we are supposed to go” After the quick exchange they prepared the rappel. First Masaki stepped out of the chopper into the open air followed by Clovin then Hern, as Hern stepped out he was stopped by Groves' hand
“If you're the one with all the information why couldn’t we have been dropped off closer to the sight instead of hiking through that godforsaken swamp?” Groves questioned. Hern just shook his head and answered unperturbed “Didn't say, but” He waggled his eyebrows at Groves antagonistically “Abrams said things got spooky so maybe that’s why” Groves shot Hern a scowl before Hern jumped out of the helicopter shouting “Boo!” Groves shook his head and followed the men earthwards. Once he had his boots settled firmly in the muck and brackish water. All the men ceased what little talk had passed between them. Groves took point directed by a compass he pulled from his pocket. Their going was slow hindered by the roots and the hungry water, at several points the group had to gather around one man and pull him out of the mud. About half an hour in Masaki looked over to Hern and asked
“Are there any alligators in this swamp?” His wide eyes feigned innocence, Hern monotonically replied
“There's one right behind you..... Watch out” Maskai snorted unsettled by his lack of emotion. The men fell silent after the failed attempt at levity, five minutes later Groves flung up his hand motioning for the group to stop, they all sunk to their knees weapons up and searching for prey. Groves’s fingers extended to the left and pointed at a structure obscured by vines and swamp vegetation. The men still crouched stalked through the muck until they were spread in a rough line fifty meters from the building. It was an old and dilapidated structure, its face looked as if it was an old moonshiner’s shack but the antennas poorly camouflaged and protruding from the rear of the house gave it away as something else. After not seeing anything remotely resembling a research facility for an hour Groves assumed that this was their target, he motioned for the men to assume positions that would support him when he kicked down the front door. The men slid through the water up to the sides of the door. As they leaned into the walls they could see and feel that they were sun bleached and paper thin. Groves crouched in front of the door and nodded at the soldiers as they slid into place. Masaki slid behind Groves and patted him on the shoulder signifying that he would come in behind. Groves stood up reared back and lashed out his foot at the shack door. It gave with little resistance and a cacophony of noise. The door and Groves swept into the room while the others waited outside covering his entrance. Groves seemed to be in the building for no more than two seconds when he barreled out the door nearly knocking Masaki into the water. Groves leaned over the railing of the shack and dry heaved. The other three men stared at him in wonderment, instead of questioning what Groves had seen Hern went into the building followed shortly by Clovin. What they encountered turned even their seasoned stomachs. The scene was something out of a movie or story. Two men were in the shack both dead one was tied to a rolling chair nearly eviscerated; the other was slumped face first at the back of the building. The second man had seemed to have scrawled some rudimentary message and a crude symbol. The symbol was a bastardization of the eye of osiris followed by the message 'All hail the crimson king' the epitaph seemed to be written in some form of peeling paint, but as it was inspected closer it was seen to be blood. Groves, having re-mastered himself entered the room. Upon taking in the macabre spectacle made the sign of the cross over his chest and began to look around the room. Masaki made it to the door stop and upon seeing what the building held he let out a low whistle and decided to wait on the porch. Groves, Hern and Clovin began to inspect the building trying to touch the bodies as little as possible. The only thing occupying the shack was a desk an old, worn cot and some radio equipment which seamed to be connected to the antenna through a hole cut into the back of the shack. Clovin started to rummage through the desk looking for any sort of identification as to what the cabin was. Groves squatted down to the level of the second man trying to ascertain what had happened to him. After examining him Groves was able to see that the man had shot swallowed a bullet and was holding a pistol but it had been trapped under him when he fell. He shied away from the idea of retrieving the pistol and instead called out to the other two men in the cabin.
“Seems like this guy shot himself, after…. Cutting up his buddy there, but I have no idea what the crimson king could be” he said mystified, Hern grunted and Clovin continued to search through the desk. Groves got up as he heard Clovin stop rummaging through the desk and let out a breath of exaltation.
“Looks like I found some good news at least” He had a surprising deep southern accent; he lifted up some papers showing diagrams that looked to be a map of the area. “Looks like this place was a listening station for the big place, Black House” as he called the facility by name the mood between the men darkened ever so slightly. It wasn’t a great change but it was one that nagged at their sprits and would continue to eat at their hearts as their trek continued. “We’re headed in the right direction at least lads” Groves nodded his head in appreciation and spared the strange bodies one last glance, but what captured his attention more than anything was the perplexing symbol drawn on the wall and the ominous command ‘All hail the crimson king’ a shiver ran up his spine and the quickly exited the building. On the porch Masaki took him by the arm
“Hey chief what was that in there, I didn’t wanna keep that locked in my head but I mean, what in god’s name?” Groves shivered realizing that whatever it was, it was now ‘locked in his head’
‘I don’t know, but I’m guessing we will find out soon enough” he answered with finality. The men continued to trudge through the thickening muck as rain began to pool in the darkening skies.

*****************************************

The men at last came unto a real sign of their objective, a cast iron fence bordered by a patch of burned vegetation radiating twenty feet out from the fence on one side and a dense wall of more swamp trees on the other. They came up to the fence and stood impressed at both the thickness and the length of the bars, the fence had six inch bars towering to an impressive ten foot height. Groves looked at the fence then at his men
“Anyone think to bring a bolt cutter?” he asked hesitantly. Hern wrapped a gloved hand around one of the iron beams and scoffed
“Fat chance of that” the wrapped a knuckle off the beam “The only way I can see as to us getting over is boosting each other over” He slung the pack he was carrying off his shoulder and began to look for something to aid in the surmounting of the fence. As he continued to look Groves stepped up to the fence and peered into what lay beyond them. He could make out precious little but what he could see was the spire of some sort of mansion or estate rising above the trees to pierce the sky.
“I think we’ve found it” he called to the other behind him “I can see a little over the trees. The others looked over the tree tops and made out the points of the house. Groves would normally have felt a little relieved to have found his way through a swamp to his objective but now he felt his breath coil in his chest. He turned to face the others and he could tell they were having similar emotions. All he could see was the top of some old house and he couldn’t tell why he should be so afraid of it. As soon as he tried to calm himself the image of the eye painted in a stranger’s blood crashed through his thoughts, ‘All hail the crimson king’ he shivered and squeezed his eyes shut trying to banish the image but it lurked at the back of his mind. Hern exclaimed
“Aha!, I found it I’ve got some rope, we’re gonna have to sling it over” He began to tie a knot on the end to throw it across the threshold “Alright Masaki you’re up first Ill boost you” Masaki stood still looking into the other side of the fence dead to the world besides what held his attention beyond the barrier. Hern stared at him for a moment before shouting
“Hey Kid!” Masaki was shocked out of his trance and turned to face Hern. Masaki opened his mouth to speak but shut it as his eyes shot upward. Unbeknownst to the group of oblivious soldiers they were being observed by a multitude of what appeared to be birds in the dying light. As Hern shouted they erupted from the trees. All the men were struck into silence as they stared into the sky. The birds circled around then flew north beyond the safety of the fence towards the spires. Groves whirled on Hern and hissed
“Keep your voice down, by god, we have no idea what is out here” Groves was about to reprimand Hern when Masaki muttered
“The Crimson King” All the three other men stared at him eyes wide and full of fear. Groves stared at him
“What did you just say?” Masaki shrugged his shoulders as if trying to shake someone off him
“Sorry nothing” his brow furrowed “I was lost in my own thoughts…. Sorry” He walked over to Hern and tired to help him but Hern pulled back eyes still wide. Groves could almost see the fear radiating off the man. He hissed at the both of them trying to restore some semblance of structure “Pull it together, look we are almost there, stay smart and don’t go getting tharn on me” Hern frowned at him confused
“What are you talking about Groves” Clovin only frowned in confusion while Masaki was still coming out of his daze. Groves was relieved a little to have brought them back
“It’s an expression, like when a deer gets caught in the headlights” He chopped his hand through the air becoming irritated “Look it doesn’t matter, lets get over that fence and to Black House” Once again calling the name into their group dampened their already flagging spirits. They did as directed and Masaki climbed the fence and once he had crossed the threshold he lost any pretenses of the levity he had tried to bring earlier and what was left was the hollow face of weary man. Their senses weren’t truly acute enough to measure what had changed but they all felt it as their boots left the marshy soil of the swamp and onto the solid earth of Black house. They proceeded through the underbrush to the spires they had seen earlier they had to take out their knives or machetes and hack their way through the bush as if they were trying to be kept out. It took them a half hour to cut their way through fifty meters of bush. By the time they fell onto the immaculately kept lawn that served as a buffer between Black House and the swamp it was full dark. Groves was in front cutting through the brush and he was the first to make to Black House Proper. As he fell onto the lawn the images circulating at the back of his mind were summoned forth again and this time he had to try even harder to banish then, he succeeded by the narrowest of margins. He picked himself off the ground and got his first proper view of the house. It was beautiful, terribly beautiful, it was an old and regal creature dating back to the civil war if not later and it carried the ghosts of all those years in its bones. And the most terrifying thing about it was not the building but the fields around it, they weren’t covered in tobacco or cotton or whatever was growing before it had changed but roses. Thousands upon Thousands of roses stared at the interlopers. Almost a sea of blood red petals stretching from the steps to within five feet of the tree line. Groves was so shocked that he didn’t move for Hern to enter behind him, Hern pushed at his back and he fell over landing a hair’s breadth from the red sea. Groves scampered back from the edge an animal fear filling him at touching the petals. He stood up and took a deep breath trying to settle him self. Hern said something in the way of an apology but it fell on deaf ears. The rest of the men filed out of the trees to gaze upon the roses. They stood side by side none daring to forge a path through the roses until Masaki stepped forward oblivious to the fear that transfixed the others. He took the first step trampling a rose and they collectively felt their breath catch in their throats. Masaki didn’t stop almost if he was drawn to the house by some sort of invisible lure. The rose field was easily half a mile long spreading out from the house in all directions to meet the encroaching forest. The men treaded through the field no one speaking for the fear that someone, something would hear them. Finally Masaki stepped onto the gravel drive that led to the front of the ancient building and he stopped as if released from his lure. He looked at the others wide eyed as if he didn’t know how he had come to find himself there. Groves stepped forward and began to speak to the men to bolster their courage but his voice caught in his throat. He attempted again and this time successfully summoned the words
“Okay…. We’ve made it there, and that was the hard part, right?” his voice sounded frail and failed to elicit a response from his men, he coughed and continued “Now we just have to get in look around and get out, like stealing candy from a baby.” His words traveled up the drive to reflect off the front of the building when they were returned to him they sounded weak. The men stood still so he settled his pack and he continued up the drive. Once they came to the front of the house they were rewarded with a true view of it. The house was indeed beautiful with wide windows and beautiful columns, but the thing that destroyed the old world beauty of it were the two giant stone hound flanking the steps. Groves looked upward to the spires and wished he hadn’t the birds were all perched there totally silent, beady eyes waiting for them to move. Groves set his feet to the first step and felt shivers race up and down his spine. He proceeded to the doors and found the same symbol from the shack drawn on both of the doors and he feared to touch them. He looked behind him as he heard one of the men fall to the ground. He found Masaki on the ground petrified staring at one of the hounds whispering to himself that he saw the great dog move. Groves stalked down the steps and yanked him to his feet. He pulled Masaki close to his face and whispered in a hushed tone
“Masaki, get it together, we don’t have time for you to screw around” He stared into the young mans eyes and could see him beginning to go tharn. He sent a quick sharp slap to his face snapping him out of his trance. Masaki’s eyes cleared as the report of the slap echoed off the front of the building. Groves’ eyes snapped to the building searching for some sort of response but none came. He glared back at Masaki letting him go and he stepped back to the doors. He placed his hands on the handles and forced himself to pull open the doors. As he pulled them they swung open silently as if there were no hinges at all. Groves stared into the dark foyer not seeing anything. He turned to the men and was comforted to find them close at his heal he forced one foot into the building and then the other. He had entered Black House. Once he was inside he could see as if all the lights had been turned on. He turned back and found the men at his back, the doors closed, evidently with out his hearing. He heard a voice boom out
“LOW AND BEHOLD” the tone almost sounded jovial, he readied his weapon searching for the voice’s owner. He couldn’t find one so he motioned for the men to fan out staying silent. “See, I was getting worried, as if no one would come, and well, we couldn’t have that could we?” the voice asked filled with horrible good cheer. “Look up here fools” the voice snapped to anger in a moment. As the voice command Groves’s eye’s sought it out and he found what he was looking for. The owner was a handsome man in his mid forties, graying hair swept back from his brow, he was dressed in an all black suit with a single blood red rose adorning his lapel. He swept out his hands as if he was welcoming his guests “Well I’m glad they know I’m here, as I said I was worried and we can’t have that now can we” again he flashed the smile it was made up of all teeth and the only thing that reached his eyes was the cold that Groves suddenly noticed permeating the room. He smile broadened, the temperature dropped, suddenly the smile died and only anger was left on his face “Well?” his furious voice boomed “Nothing to say, you come all this way and nothing to say, I’ve killed men for lesser offenses” Masaki blurted out
“Are you the Crimson King?” The smile reappeared and he laughed but it sounded like knives on piano wire.
“Oh no no no no,” He waggled his finger and began to chortle ‘I’m a little man in the schemes of things but good question, I like you have I told you that” He affixed Masaki with the horrible smile and Masaki felt his blood run cold. Masaki felt the words leave his mouth before he could stop them “Then who are you?” The man’s eyes widened in fury the smile traded for a look of animosity “NOT” he screamed loud enough to make the men’s ears protest in pain “WHILE I AM TALKING WORM” he lifted his hand as if to choke Masaki even though he was too far way. Masaki was lifted up by an invisible force his eyes bulging and his face turning a sickly shade of blue. The man bellowed “I AM NYARLATHOTEP, I AM RANDAL FLAGG, I AM HE WHO WALKS BEHIND THE ROWS” he smiled again his teeth looking like daggers and dropped his voice to a soft whisper “I am what you fear Jin Masaki, and if you interrupt me one more time I swear to” He began to scream again shaking the glass in the windows “ALL THAT HOLD DEAR I WILL VISIT HORRORS UPON YOU” he let his hand fall lazily and Masaki mirrored the motion. He laughed jovially “But hey, that’s not what you’re here for, you’re here for me so look here Ill cut you a deal” He let out a laugh “I know all the things that you want and I can give them to you and all you have to do is give me your soul" but we also have option number two he let out a cry “Let’s show ‘em Jin!, he jumped and when he landed he making a gun out of his finger and thumb” he pointed it at Masaki and grinned devilishly he mouth the word ‘bang’ and Masaki, was instantaneously a pillar of ash that fell to the ground. He grinned and held his arms wide open, He grinned again, winked and asked “Okay boys what’ll it be?”
*******************************
Glen Stattons eyes were finally closed, after dirking a whole bottled of 40 Year Old Speyside Whisky Liqueur and he had finally fallen into a stupor and passed out. When the phone rang shoving ice picks into his ears and eyes he was able to reflect on how poor of a decision that was.
“Glen” the phone asked
“Here” Glen said
“Penultimate failed, Glen what’s your final call” the tone that the phone used made it clear that the call was a courtesy.
“Well” Glen mumbled tongue feeling as if it was wrapped in cotton
“Speak up Glen” the phone commanded “If you weren’t already aware this call is being recorded”
“Clean the slate then” Glen said boldly
“Nuclear or Carpet?” the phone asked
“Good God” Glen moaned “Are we really contemplating this, its American soil for god’s sake!”
“Choose” Glen sighed defeated
“Nuclear”
*******************************
At Dover Air Force base the last steps of the plan were being executed as a Boeing B-47 stratojet was being fueled and loaded for its mission. The pilot was unnamed in all the reports in every report that ever saw the light of day. He was considered by everyone that was affiliated with the Chesapeake incident to be an American hero. As he took the Heavy Bomber and its nuclear payload to the correct altitude he decided to play at least one song before he arrived at the destination. A lonely voice wavered thought the belly of the bomber all the way to the sight
“The Keeper of the city keys
Put shutters on the dreams.
I wait outside the pilgrim's door
With insufficient schemes.
The black queen chants
The funeral march,
The cracked brass bells will ring;
To summon back the fire witch
To the court of the”
The music was cut short as the pilot radioed for final confirmation of the sight of detonation. It was confirmed and his hand wavered over the button that would release the bomb. He moved his finger down and let a war head drop on to Black House. As the bomb was dropping he turned the jet around and switched his music back on.
The gardener plants an evergreen

Whilst trampling on a flower.

I chase the wind of a prism ship

To taste the sweet and sour.

The pattern juggler lifts his hand;

The orchestra begin.

As slowly turns the grinding wheel

In the court of the crimson king.