Silent Hill fic: Outbreak - Chapter 14: Jeremy

[mistressofmuses]

In chapter 14: Jeremy seals himself in his house for protection. He's not paranoid; he's just the only one who knows what's going on out there. he is extremely paranoid

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Jeremy did not feel well.

Hardly a surprise, considering the state of the world.

He hammered the final nail into the plywood covering the last window of his living room.

“-in weaponized form. Who knows what the base organism was. Could be plague. Could be West Nile. SARS. Hell, it could have started as swine flu, or Zika, since those have been all the rage in scare-tactics lately. They got sick of everyone not falling for their propaganda about what to avoid, what to be scared of, what to beg and plead for a vaccine for, and have invented their own.

“This is what genetic and chemical engineering gets us, folks. We start with GMO crops that dumb us down, we move on to toxic chemicals disguised as medicine and vaccines that only make us sicker and kill our immune systems, and then we get into the real deal: population control.

“See, that other stuff is all long-game. The world elite need something to do it quick, to knock out a small population, something that can get rid of any enclaves of their critics, and bioterrorism is one of the most likely scenarios outside of martial law and military action.

“This is just a test run, folks. They’re seeing just how much control they have over it. One small little tourist town gets wiped out, it’s a tragedy, but one that’ll be written off with whatever explanation they decide on. But once they figure it out… well then, you can expect to see it popping up all over the place, wherever it’s convenient for the population to suddenly drop.”

The internet radio show went to a sponsor break, but Jeremy knew they’d resume coverage. He wasn’t used to being at the center of a story like this, but at least he knew how to prepare.

Jeremy gave a grim smile as he looked over his handiwork. Nothing was getting in here. He’d have felt a little better if he’d been able to board it up from the outside too, but he didn’t want to make himself an obvious target.

Next was the plastic sheeting, and he began to unspool a roll of it.

---

“I want to remind everyone that they’re aiming for the softest targets possible: children. They’re easy to infect, and it’s easy for them to spread it, whatever it is. And anyone who points out the truth, that this is all a giant con to find new methods of control, to test out bioweapons for our illegitimate government, and to create another in a string of false flags designed ultimately to curb our freedoms… anyone who points that out? Is going to be called a monster for politicizing something that hurt so many kids.

“These people have no trouble using children as pawns, but will find ways to blame us for callousness when we point out that it’s all a con job.”

Jeremy took a drink from his beer, looking at the job well done. The entire ground level and basement of his house were entirely sealed. Two layers of plywood, and plastic sheeting duct taped around every potential air hole. Well, all except one; he wasn’t an idiot. But that one had the highest grade filters he’d been able to purchase.

It was a bit of a shame that he was the only one in here. Originally he’d wanted to invite a friend or two, or maybe his brother to join him. But he quickly realized that they didn’t understand how serious this was. His brother was full-on buying the official “unknown illness” crap. His friends believed him when he said that explanation was bullshit, but they didn’t really believe that it was the kind of threat that Jeremy knew it was. So no, it would be just him in here, until the whole thing passed.

Unfortunate that if anyone looked too close at his house, they’d see what he’d done, and they’d know that he knew. He’d taken pains to make sure his preparations were as disguised and unobtrusive as possible. He could further shut himself into the basement if it came to that.

He had enough food and water to last him about three months, if he was careful. He wasn’t going to use any of the water out of the tap, even filtered and boiled. If that was how they were spreading it, it would be just plain foolish to go to all this trouble and get infected because he was lazy.

All the more reason for it to be him alone. Someone else might get weak, decide to risk something they shouldn’t, and then Jeremy would be compromised, too.

They’d understand, after, if they survived. Jeremy wasn’t a monster: of course he hoped they survived. But it would be gratifying to have them understand what he understood, to know that he’d been right about all of it.

The lights flickered.

Jeremy frowned. They couldn’t have found out he was in here already. He knew they were probably going to cut his power, but he’d assumed that would take weeks. He’d even paid the next month’s power bill already, just to make sure they wouldn’t have any excuse.

The overhead light steadied, and he took another drink of his beer.

---

The awful screeching static noise from his laptop’s speakers woke him from a sound sleep. He’d left the station playing when he fell asleep, not wanting to miss any new developments in The Situation. It was important he always be informed.

But the screech wasn’t the blare of a breaking news announcement, it was just the horrible sound of feedback and static squealing through the computer’s sound system.

Jeremy blindly groped toward the computer, finding the volume keys and turning it down.

The screen of his laptop was static, like an old TV not tuned to a channel. But it was a computer, that made no sense. Even if it was broken, the display would just be blank. Despite having just turned the volume down, the noise began to increase in volume again, so loud in the otherwise silent house that it seemed like people outside would hear it.

Hurriedly, Jeremy held down the laptop’s power button, and the awful noise cut out entirely when the screen went black.

Tentatively, he pressed the power button again, relieved when it started up normally. But not relieved enough. He shut the lid, and went back to sleep without the radio.

---

Thursday, September 22, 2016

Everything worked the following day when he got up. He wondered if the issues with the computer had just been his nervous and half-asleep brain. Some remnant of a nightmare he’d confused for reality. He’d need to get that under control.

“-death toll reaching close to 50. Officially, anyway. We all know that it’s likely to be much higher. Right now the numbers are probably being kept down in order to make it seem like they’ve got it under control, that they’re doing what they can. Making themselves look a little better. Once they get all of the information they need from this test, they’ll figure out who they’re blaming for it, and the numbers will suddenly be inflated to ensure we all know just how monstrous their patsies are.

“Who is going to take the fall for this one? ISIS seems unlikely, considering our current sympathizer president. It’s probably going to be people like you and me, folks. Patriots who just want to fix our country and give power back to the people. Mark my words and prepare yourselves. Keep stocking up on the most necessary supplies. Keep yourselves armed-”

Jeremy snorted to himself. His rifle was leaning against his leg right this very minute, ready to be slung over his shoulder as soon as he got up. Seemed silly, maybe, carrying a loaded weapon around an empty house. But it just felt necessary for some reason. Not like anyone could make fun of him for it, so why not?

The power went out around two in the afternoon.

This time it didn’t flicker and then stabilize. It just went out. Lights, wi-fi, everything. Laptop charging icon turning suddenly to a battery at 98%.

With a frustrated sigh, Jeremy got up, finding his way through the room by way of his dim laptop screen. With the windows boarded up, it was as dark now as it had been in the middle of the night. Jeremy made a mental note to remember his vitamin D supplements. He’d need to make sure he kept to a regular sleep schedule, too.

That was neither here nor there, but he wrestled up a flashlight without too much trouble. It was fairly certain that they had cut his power, somehow guessing at what he knew. But he could still check the breakers, just to be sure. He shut his laptop to conserve battery power, and descended the stairs.

The basement floor was covered with a layer of water. Maybe about three inches of it. Jeremy stopped, completely at a loss for what to do. A flood? But he’d shut his water off already, and blocked off the drains to boot. It didn’t seem like sewer backup or anything like that; it looked clean enough, like rainwater or lake water, and didn’t smell like much of anything.

Jeremy backtracked for a pair of waterproof boots before wading into it—he wouldn’t let himself get infected by dirty water.

A quick check confirmed that the main water valve was still shut, and that there was no new water coming up from the floor drain, which was taped over, as he’d thought. He worried at his lip a little before finally getting a thick rubber glove and an expendable screwdriver.

He made fairly quick work of the plastic sheeting he’d blocked the drain with, though it didn’t make an immediate difference in the water covering his basement floor. He resolved to check on it again in a little while. If it drained, then all he’d have to worry about was disinfecting everything and getting the drain blocked off again.

Unfortunately, the breaker switches were not the culprit for the power, which meant he’d have to start using his generator sooner than anticipated. He’d been counting on having grid power for at least another few weeks. He’d just have to conserve power. But he needed his fridge, his router, and his laptop plugged in.

Trudging up the stairs to get the generator going in the kitchen, he was greeted by a living room that wasn’t entirely dark. A bright white glow reflected off the walls, easily traceable to his open laptop, once again showing only white noise static on the screen. As if his noticing it somehow triggered it, the static screeching noise started up again almost immediately, and he ran across the floor to slam the lid shut again.

He was sure he’d left it closed. Sure of it.

So who the fuck was in here?

---

Jeremy prowled the entire house, small LED flashlight taped to the barrel of his gun to provide light and ability to fire, both aiming forward. He hoped it didn’t throw off the balance too much, and he cursed himself for never having practiced with the weapon like this. But he checked every room, every bit of furniture, every hanging curtain and dark corner. Nothing.

He got the generator running, and finally tentatively felt ready to reopen his laptop.

It was back to normal again, though he didn’t trust it. What if the computer was infected with some kind of virus? What if it was contagious? What if he caught it just by touching it?

No. He shook his head. That was stupid. He’d thought “infected”, but he meant with a computer virus. Or spyware. His brain had just conflated the two: virus and contagion. It was just a random thought. He wasn’t paranoid.

None of this was paranoia: it was all based on the perfectly rational research that had been done. It would be clear to anyone willing to give up the comforting lies they’d heard all their lives.

He considered the laptop, idly scratching his thin arms. Eventually he shut the computer. Maybe it had been infected with spyware, and The Powers That Be had used that to figure out what he was doing. That he was on to their scheme. They’d found out and were trying to force him to give up already. He’d have to do some scans of the hard drive. Later, though. Let them think they’d scared him off for now. As for the laptop being open, he’d clearly just forgotten it in his hurry. Meant to shut it, but failed to.

But after shutting the computer down, there was little to do. The house was completely dark, and he needed to consider how frequently to run the generator, if he was going to have to rely on it for significantly longer than he’d thought. Couldn’t run out of fuel.

He’d considered earlier the necessity of keeping himself to a regular sleep-wake cycle in absence of external cues, but being well-rested was equally vital, he reasoned. So with that, he went to bed.

---

He awoke to a scrabbling, scratching noise from elsewhere in the house. At first he thought it was the static he’d been hearing from his computer, but as he woke fully he realized it was completely different. Irregular, like movement.

He grabbed his rifle as quietly as he could. It was where he’d left it, right next to the bed. He hesitated over whether he should switch the flashlight on. It was too dark for him to see, but also meant any light would immediately give him away. He should have invested in damn night vision goggles. Shit. The sound continued.

Listening intently, Jeremy got out of bed. Slowly, to avoid the mattress springs creaking. He stepped carefully, hoping that there was nothing except discarded clothing on the bedroom floor. The scrabbling noise continued, coming from the hallway bathroom, he thought.

He approached slowly, stopping outside the bathroom door to ensure whatever it was hadn’t moved. The noise was now almost directly ahead of him, in the dark room, though paradoxically it seemed quieter now than it had when he’d woken up. No light of any kind; this wasn’t a robber or a looter, unless they were comfortable in total darkness.

Jeremy let out a slow, silent breath, and reached for the flashlight’s button. If he made sure to aim it ahead of him, the light would blind whatever it was more severely than it would him. On the count of a silent three in his head, he switched the light on, and lifted the rifle to his shoulder, ready to fire.

A rat.

A big one, in the middle of his bathroom floor, scuffling around for some scrap of something he didn’t even see.

“Fucking hell,” he sighed, relaxing minimally as the rodent kept scratching at the floor, unfazed by the light.

The hell had that thing gotten in? He’d sealed every damn window and door. Must have come up through the pipes, now that he’d shut his water off. The drains and faucets—sink, toilet, and tub—were completely covered, but he had opened the one in the basement so the water could drain.

He aimed the rifle again. Overkill for a damn rat, and it would fuck up his floor, but he had to kill the thing. Rats were a known disease vector. It could have been sent specifically to infect him.

As he was considering when best to take the shot, something lunged into the area of floor illuminated by his flashlight, straight for the rat. It made the louder scratching sound as it moved, insect-like, across the floor. It reached the rat almost before Jeremy had registered its presence, it was so fast.

The rat squealed, and then the sound cut off as the thing latched onto it, and Jeremy took the shot.

After the sharp report from the gun, everything was silent: no more scrabbling of any kind. Jeremy approached the thing on the floor.

It was a bug the size of a miniature schnauzer, deep red-brown in color, like dried blood. About half of the body was so much goo from the rifle shot, but the rest was surprisingly intact. Jeremy retreated long enough to grab a wooden spoon from the kitchen and used that to flip the thing over.

Six legs—well, four, but two were only gone because of the rifle shot—so it was an insect, not a spider. Its remaining legs each ended in a sharp, sickle-shaped claw. That was almost certainly responsible for the loud noises he’d heard, and looking from where it had run across the floor, he could see faint scratches in the linoleum itself.

The head was another horror altogether. Hooked fangs like those of a bird-eating tarantula, but a good ten or more of them in an inward-facing circle, all coated in bright red blood. Glancing at the rat corpse showed what those fangs had accomplished: in the brief second between the thing grabbing the rat and Jeremy shooting it, it had skeletonized a good fourth of its apparent prey. The rat’s furry throat, shoulder, and chest were gone, leaving only bloody bones.

“Holy shit,” Jeremy said aloud, prodding at the whole mess in horrified fascination. This was not a normal creature. This… this was a weapon. People were sitting around panicking about fucking disease symptoms, and these things were running around? If The Powers That Be really were watching him and sending something like this after him for having found out… fuck.

But he couldn’t leave. They were just trying to flush him out of his home, where he’d get sick and be either killed or disappeared. Especially now that he’d killed this thing that they’d clearly sent after him. But he had to try and preserve the body. For evidence. He’d wind up with his own damn radio show after this. Or better, videos. At least he knew the people who would believe him.

He retrieved a battery-powered camping lantern to light the room better. After verifying there was nothing else lurking in the bathroom, he got to work.

He carefully wrapped the insect creature in more plastic sheeting and placed it in his freezer. On second thought, he wrapped and froze the rat too, for evidence of what the thing had done. Both were encased in multiple layers of tape and plastic… no risk of them contaminating his food that way.

Then he set out to clean up the floor. If any of that had been infections, this whole damn room had turned into a hot zone, and the rat had bled out a surprising amount. After that he could go back to the basement and reseal the drain before anything else crept up it.

He paused to examine an area he’d already scrubbed clear of blood. He was briefly baffled to see more splatters appearing, until he felt warmth on his upper lip.

“Shit,” he cursed, scrabbling for a wad of toilet paper to blot it with. It would be a trick to get the bloody nose stopped while also cleaning his hands of any traces of the blood and guts he was cleaning up. Of course he was wearing gloves, but tiny flecks had splashed up onto his arms. He wasn’t going to take any risk of mucous membrane transfer.

Stripping off his medical-grade latex gloves and then replacing the toilet paper held to his face, he groped in the cabinet under the sink for one of the buckets of bleach solution that he was planning to use to clean his skin in lieu of running water.

Giving up a modicum of caution in favor of expedience and certainty, he plunged his hands into the bucket once the lid was off.

Turning his head and holding the toilet paper to his face with his shoulder, he scrubbed both hands in the liquid. It stung his lower arms in a way he hadn’t anticipated, but maybe he’d just made the solution a bit stronger than he remembered.

Finally reaching up to hold the toilet paper more firmly in place, he caught sight of his arm in the steady light of the camping lantern. At the red spots, like blisters. He’d seen them and assumed it was flecks of blood from his cleaning. Not…

“No, no, shit no…”

Forgetting entirely about his bloody nose, he started frantically scrubbing at his arms, as if somehow the blisters would wash away. His nails caught at the painful spots, but he didn’t care, he just kept scrubbing. His nose continued to gush blood, more of it falling into the bleach and water solution.

Along with the blood from the scratched-open spots on his arms, it began to turn the mix a watery pink.

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