"Hey, Mike. What brings you here?" A young person, aged 20 to 21, offered a fist bump to a younger version of Michael, who snapped out of his daze and looked at the youth in confusion.
"Are you alright? You look a bit taken aback." The youth inquired once more, observing Micheal's perplexed expression.
"I'm fine, I think, but what brings you here?" Micheal rubbed his temple as he surveyed his surroundings.
"Umm, I live here. What's wrong with you? You seem to be acting strange. Are you sure you're okay?" The youth responded before rephrasing the question, now concerned about Micheal's unusual behavior. It was only then that Micheal became aware he was standing outside the youth's house. Remaining silent, he tried to comprehend the peculiar sensation he was feeling.
"Yeah, I'm okay, Jeff. Just had a strange sense of déjà vu," Michael shrugged before responding, reassuring himself that he was merely overreacting.
"It must have been quite a strong one to leave you so confused. Come inside; it seems like rain is on the way." Jeff, the young man, chuckled before inviting Michael into the house, having just returned from work and encountered Michael outside.
"Yeah, I guess," Michael muttered, still contemplating that strange feeling as he stepped into the house.
"Could you please explain what happened and what brings you here at this time?" Jeff asked, handing a can of soda to Michael, who was seated on the couch watching a television show. After passing it to Michael, he took a seat on the opposite couch, waiting for a response.
"He did it again; he signed me up for some ridiculous soldier training program that I clearly expressed my lack of interest in. He keeps doing these things that really frustrate me. Do dads have to be so difficult?" Micheal, as if suddenly recalling his purpose for being there, set the soda down on the table and then erupted into a fit of anger. Jeff, seemingly accustomed to this behavior, sat quietly, listening to everything he said.
"This soda tastes odd. Did that old man sell me generic soda? This tastes terrible," Jeff commented with a look of distaste after trying the beverage.
"Hey, are you even paying attention to what I'm saying?" Micheal, noticing that Jeff wasn't paying attention, frowned and facepalmed.
"Of course I'm listening. And just to clarify, not all dads are terrible; mine was the best. May his soul rest in peace," Jeff replied with a smile, reflecting on fond memories.
"You are a crappy friend, you know that?" Micheal let out a sigh and reached for his soda can.
"I love you too bro. I wouldn't do that if I were you," Jeff said, pausing Michael just before he could take a sip.
"My dad just pissed me off, and I can't even drink soda. Talk about a bad day," Michael sighed deeply, setting the soda down before turning his attention to the TV.
"Come on Mike, it can't be that bad! I heard they're recruiting women now; maybe you could get a chance over there, hahaha." Jeff attempted to comfort Michael, who shook his head in disbelief.
"I hate you; I also hate that camp. This is the same nonsense that led to Liam's incarceration, and now he's languishing in a government facility as a convict," Michael scoffed at Jeff's words, his attention drawn to a character on the show he was watching, who was explaining how to shoot a gun and offering tips to beginners. Watching it only intensified his memories of his own struggles.
"But didn't you hate Liam even more?" Jeff asked with a grin.
"It appears that you're missing the point. Ever since my mom passed away, this man has dedicated himself to controlling every aspect of our lives. He believes that this is the way to prevent us from going 'astray'. He never even bothers to ask for our opinions on the matter; he simply acts." Micheal glanced up at Jeff, a frown forming on his face. Upon noticing Jeff's expression, Micheal understood that Jeff was merely attempting to provoke him.
"I hate you," Michael remarked before returning his attention to the show.
"Hahaha, come on, just let it go, he can't dictate your life indefinitely. You're 18 now; you have your own rights," Jeff chuckled, ultimately choosing to uplift Michael's spirits.
"Jeff, he's a military general of some sort; rights don't mean anything to him. Don't you have whiskey or something? I need something to clear my thoughts," Michael replied, rising to his feet.
"I have some extra soda in the basement; that has to be better than this generic fake stuff," Jeff replied, causing Michael to pause.
"You mean that creepy basement? Maybe you should get it." Micheal made a swift turn and was prepared to sit back down when Jeff's next words caused
him to hesitate.
"You're going to join the soldier camp. You should learn how to face your fears. Most undercover missions are usually done in the dark, so you need to learn not to fear the dark. You know I'm right, Mike," Jeff said with a smirk, confident in his assertion.
"I really hate you; you're just saying that cause you're also scared" Micheal let out a groan as he turned around; Jeff was fully aware of his weakness and consistently took advantage of it.
"Whatever you say Lieutenant" Jeff replied with a chuckle that only served to infuriate Michael further.
"Huff, it's just a basement, nothing to be scared of," Michael said to reassure himself as he stepped into the dimly lit space.
TAP TAP TAP
The sound of his footsteps on the stairs reverberated through the darkness, causing Micheal's heart to tighten. As he descended, his mind conjured images of creatures lurking in the shadows, yet he walked down slowly, reassuring himself that they were mere figments of his imagination.
He finally reached the end of the stairs and extended his hand toward the light switch, but a faint creak echoed from somewhere behind him in the darkness, causing his hand to hesitate just above the switch.
'What was that? Did I hear that right? I'm certain I heard it correctly; there's something in here with me. Should I make a run for it? What if I fail to succeed? There is but one course of action to take now.' In a fleeting moment, nearly a million thoughts surged through Micheal's mind as he meticulously analyzed and strategized, ultimately arriving at a single conclusion.
SWITCH
His hands moved swiftly, flipping the light switch before he turned around in one fluid motion to confront whatever awaited him. However, upon turning, he found nothing there.
"Huff" Micheal sighed in relief, grateful that it was merely his imagination at play. Realizing there was nothing to fear, he relaxed and scanned the room for any sign of the soda cans. He soon discovered a freezer, which he opened to find the cans inside. After retrieving them, he quickly closed the freezer and turned toward the staircase. As he reached for the light switch to turn it off, he heard a faint noise behind him, causing him to pause and turn around in alarm, only to see nothing. He shook his head and sighed, attributing it to his imagination once more. Just as he was about to turn back around.
"Rustle" Once more, his ears caught another sound, which he swiftly recognized as emanating from a stack of boxes in the corner of the room. After hearing it for the third time, one part of him urged him to leave, while another part persuaded him to remain. He glanced at the staircase, contemplating whether to depart, but ultimately, his curiosity prevailed.
"I've got to see what it is," Michael muttered to himself as he picked up the flashlight he found on the ground. After vigorously shaking it, the flashlight finally illuminated, and with renewed confidence, Michael turned to the boxes and took a deep breath. He inched closer to the pile of boxes, curious to discover the source of the noise.
"Be a rat, be a rat." As he crept closer, Michael chanted to himself, hoping it was indeed a rat.
"Here goes nothing" Michael said, taking a deep breath before pulling one of the boxes.
"SQUEAL SQUEAL." A rat darted out of the boxes like a bullet, zipping past Michael's leg and startling him, causing him to buckle and tumble, pulling one of the boxes down as he fell.
BANG!
"Hey! Is everything alright down there?" Jeff's voice echoed from above, prompting Michael to rise while rubbing his head, which had made contact with the ground.
"Yeah, everything's fine," Michael replied quickly, hoping to deter Jeff from coming down to meet him in this condition. His vision was blurred from the fall, so he closed his eyes and opened them again to try to adjust. As he did, he noticed a purplish glow emanating from an object on the ground. He got up and walked over to it, his vision still unclear.
"What is this?" Micheal picked up the glowing object and realized that it was a strange, antique-looking ring. Bringing it closer to inspect, a sudden wave of pain surged through him, causing him to clutch his head. This sensation lasted only a few seconds before dissipating, and he soon discovered that his vision had improved; he could see more clearly now, and the glow had somehow disappeared from the ring.
"What? Did I really just imagine that?" Micheal pondered the disappearance of the ring's glow, questioning whether he had merely imagined it.
"Hey, what's holding you back down there?" Jeff's voice echoed once more, prompting Michael to flinch as he concealed the ring and hurriedly gathered the items that had spilled from the box. When he stumbled upon one specific object, he froze in disbelief before carefully picking it up.
"Is this...a gun?" Micheal's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the gun in his hands, unable to comprehend its presence. Hearing footsteps approaching, he quickly concealed the weapon and returned the box to its place, grabbing the cans of soda just as Jeff descended the stairs.
"I half expected to find you sprawled on the ground in fear. What's keeping you? Did you see an alien or something? Oh, You found those creepy boxes, Grandpa was one for keeping strange things," Jeff said after arriving at the foot of the stairs, his eyes on the boxes behind him.
"Your grandfather?" Micheal repeated, turning to the boxes.
"Yeah, those boxes belonged to my grandpa. My dad stored them here after grandpa died. I haven't had the time to go through them, but maybe I should soon," Jeff replied with a smile.
"Oh, alright then. Yes, you should do that. Let's go," Michael said as he headed up the stairs with Jeff, not wanting to disclose the existence of the gun just yet.
*********************************************
Late at night, Micheal lay fast asleep on the bed. On the table beside him rested the ring he had picked up and the gun. Everything was calm for a moment, but suddenly, a huge explosion erupted outside the house, jolting Micheal awake in alarm.
"What the.....what was that?" Micheal asked in disbelief as he got out of bed and grabbed the gun. He walked over to the window to assess the situation. Peering through the glass, he witnessed cars colliding, people fleeing the streets in panic, and others attacking one another, biting and tearing at flesh. Above, several creatures swooped down, ready to snatch victims from the ground.
"Is that a massive mosquito? And a giant rat, what on earth is happening?" Micheal was taken aback to see a massive mosquito diving down to lift a man from the ground, as several large-sized rats emerged from the sewers to assault those nearby. He was still peering out when his door suddenly burst open, and a figure rushed in, prompting him to instinctively aim his gun at the intruder.
"Hey, put that down before someone gets hurt. Did your dad give you that?" Jeff spoke to Michael with caution, signaling for him to lower it. Michael complied with a sigh and turned back to the windows to witness the chaos unfolding outside.
"How do you just break through someone's door like that?" Michael replied with a frown, still peering through the windows.
"Let's go; we need to leave now," Jeff said to Michael.
"Do you see what is happening outside? It's complete chaos. Where do you expect us to go?" Micheal inquired while observing the brutal killings of people, reminiscent of chickens, taking place outside.
"I know where we can go, so be quick and let's move. We can't stay here," Jeff urged, prompting Michael to follow him. However, as Michael reached the door, he suddenly remembered the ring he had left behind. He quickly returned to the table to grab it, just in time to dodge a figure crashing through the roof, which landed on Jeff, reducing him to a blend of blood and flesh, scattered across the ground in an instant.
"JEEEFFFF!" Micheal shouted in disbelief and fury as he watched the figure, an enormous bat rise to its feet.
"NOOOOO!" Micheal, filled with anger, aimed the gun at the bat and squeezed the trigger, causing bullets to shoot out and strike the bat. It groaned in anger and pain as it was struck by a barrage of bullets that tore through its flesh, inflicting injuries across its entire body.
"CLICK CLICK" It was only upon hearing the click that indicated the magazine was empty that he released his grip on the trigger, watching as the bat writhed in pain, its glare directed at him with fury.
"SCREECH" The bat let out an angry screech before swinging its wing at Michael.
Micheal, caught off guard, was struck and thrown against the wall, crashing into it before collapsing weakly to the ground. He could feel the fracture in the bone of his right arm and the painful cracks in two of his ribs.
"Ugghh," he muttered weakly, staring at the mashed flesh that was Jeff. A teardrop fell from his eye; he felt as though he were on the brink of death. The broken rib had punctured a lung, and he was bleeding intensely.
"Th…e…ri..ng" In this weakened state, his vision blurred and his consciousness began to slip away. He could see the bat approaching to finish the job, but just before he succumbed to unconsciousness, a flash of purple lightning caught his eye, melting into his hand and surging through his body. Almost simultaneously, a massive bolt of purplish lightning descended from the sky, striking the bat on its head and coursing through its entire form, reducing it to ashes.