Codex: PREY

[M.U.T.O.]

Part 1

I left home with my family this past Thursday, thinking we’d be back in time for returning to school. I blamed myself for forgetting the radio at the apartment. If it weren’t for me, I wouldn’t have gotten most of my family killed. Whatever gods there are above must’ve had mercy on their souls because they died under the foot of true titans.

We left our apartment in Miami a quarter after noon. Jeremy was being a whiny little brat as usual, and Elise was all “hnnng-over” due to hormones. Mom popped the trunk and put all our stuff. Funny how she’s the one encouraging us to build character; I’d have thought it’d be Dad after reading all those Calvin and Hobbes books.

We drove to somewhere in Georgia where you can pitch tents. I don’t even want to remember where; the memories are too painful to recount. Jeremy hogged all the water bottles, so we had to salvage our canteens from the unquenchable tike. Elise was just not having any of that. Still her hormones, so they’re not my problem. So I thought until Mom told me to keep her company and keep her away from Jeremy. What a joy ride that turned out to be.

First thing when we got to the campgrounds, my older sister Elise couldn’t pitch the tent we had to share. And she thought I’d be the one to remember to bring the spokes! She had gall. I blame that on hormones, not on myself. Then it started raining halfway through the camping. ‘S far as any of us could tell, it wasn’t going to stop any time soon, so we huddled in the floppy tent. It shouldn’t be any surprise that the family’s 6-year-old tantrum inducer was getting texts from nature, so Mom chaperoned him into the woods.

We waited 3 minutes. Then we waited 5 minutes. After 18 long minutes we heard something: the sound of trees crackling and smashing, like someone constantly licking their chops while chattering their teeth. Elise nearly screeched, but I wouldn’t let her. I put my hand over her mouth to keep sound from coming out, but she was frightened as a 3-year-old in a Rated-R bloodbath in a darkened cinema. Thunder and lightning boomed and flashed in the sky, which frightened us both and added to the current drama. I don’t know what ticked her off about me trying to keep her safe from whatever axe-chainsaw murderer was probably in those woods, but she was ticked off.

“Neil, you son of a-” She shouted at me, pushing me into the muddied ground and turning my dirty-blond hair into a sopping mess. “I’m not. I’m not going to say it. You best have some idea as to what we should do, or I swear I’m gonna feed you to the birds.” Infuriated, she clambered over my confused self and escaped the confines of the blue tarp. It was then that I saw her collapse to her knees and scream, just like in a horror film.

“What the hell? Elise?” I yelled through the loudening noise and the thunderclaps. Scrambling back onto my feet, I wiped the soil off of me with the tent ceiling and crawled outside and looked towards the forest. There I saw Mom and Jeremy, both scared to the point of complete paleness, running towards us. “What? MOM? WHAT’S GOING ON?” Worriedly, I joined in their panic.

“Drop everything, get in the car.” Mom warned us as she shoved us forward towards the minivan. “NOW!” We obliged, but Jeremy didn’t. The most immature of us went back to grab a toy he dropped from his pocket. The expression on Mom’s face knew he couldn’t be saved. I could see on Jeremy’s face the look of fear, abandonment, sorrow as the minivan drove away–just before something—bearing thick brown segments and rows of long appendages—smashed the poor soul into the pavement and consumed him.

[M.U.T.O.]

Part 2 (TO BE EDITED SOON)

We left the campgrounds the way we came. Cars were held up on the freeway into the park, but the southbound lanes were filled with cars roaring past with horns blaring. Mom found an opening between a Chevy and another car, probably a Buick, as whatever it was that killed Jeremy hauled its massive body closer along the road. She slammed the pedal and in an instant, we were approaching 70 miles per hour.

That’s when we were pulled over by the cops. For god’s sake, they shot at the car a couple of times. Those cops didn’t understand the direness of the situation we were in. There were two, I remember. One was older and had a heavy southern drawl; the other was a young man who had a pretty impressive arsenal. Once we pulled over, the older one asked Mom to roll down the window.

“Ma’am,” the officer snarled, “I need to see your–” Mom interrupted him abruptly, breathing fast with fright and fury. The old officer frowned, his moustache curving downwards with his face.

“You don’t know, Officer.” She panicked, eyes wide and hands fastened to the steering wheel. “You don’t know what just happened.” Her eyes were welling up with tears.

“Calm down, madam.” The younger one walked up behind the senior officer. “Tell us what happened.” He looked at his superior and made a motion basically saying this woman’s a nut! or something along those lines. Mom breathed in, slowly, before telling them.

“Something…a worm…a monster attacked us and killed my youngest son.” She made a gesture toward the glove box to grab some tissues, but the officers grabbed her shoulder and kept her from consolation. The young officer made an I told you so gesture before taking out a flashlight and another device.

“Ma’am, monsters don’t exist.” The officers snickered at Mom’s statement. They were awful people, I could tell just by their collective hauteur in their laughter. “Now, please–” Mom interrupted them again, turning away from them. The officers took great offence to this, it seems, as they opened the car door and tried pulling her out. She kicked them back as they just began reading out the Miranda Rights. I was terrified of these people, handling my mother as if they were bullies taking away a teddy bear from a little kid. It was at this time Elise screamed and pointed behind us, gathering the attention of all five of us. The worm was on the road.

The officers first scrambled for their PT car a couple yards back, likely soiling themselves in terror. The monster wrestled with the freeway infrastructure, crushing it like a Solo Cup. Mom hit the gas, and we rushed back south towards Florida. There would be no more stoppages for us; the police all along the freeway heard the desperation of the two officers as their patrol car was being crushed long-ways and devoured.