Vires acquirit eundo

What the hell? A surreal voice, reaching for him? To take him away? Was it imagination?

Startled, Dan quickly turned to face the intruder, a man approaching him in fast steps:
- Who... are you !!? - he screamed, in an anxious voice, extremely nervous and nauseous.
Dan choked, as he was still visibly disgusted.
- Oh! Forgive me, I didn't mean to scare no one, fellow. You alright? You seem like you saw a monster. - A brief pause. A bedazzled Dan barely made any gesture, standing there staring profoundly perplexed back at him, but the man resumed, unbothered - Name's Guaine, Gip Guaine. I had seen the bike and was thinking to myself how anyone would leave such a nice machine so strangely parked, and with the keys in the ignition above all else. Could have been someone's lucky day, I guess. Not that I would ever think in such a thing, of course. - the man explained in a somewhat casual, cadenced, rhythmic tone.

Dan was barely understanding the man, not because of Guaine's tendency to speak faster along his sentences, but because he wasn't listening to him at all. Such fright he had in himself.
The stranger, speaking so casually!
Suddenly, Dan recalled: he wasn't defenseless. He had a weapon. His handbag: it had fallen when Dan fainted, but its strap had still remained held to his left shoulder; as he was descending the emergency ladder, he tied the strap to his trousers' leather belt, so it wouldn't hinder his movements.

With surreptitious movements, he attempted to reach for his handbag, which was at his left side under his T-shirt. Dan's heart was pulsing untamed like a drum out of time; the horrid images, vivid and flashing through his eyes, and his mind.
And now this man. That stranger was oblivious that if he made any funny move, a very nervous, cracking Dan would immediately draw on him... with unknown consequences.
The man in front of him was basically of the same height as Dan, with a bit of a strong build and a sturdy torso, rough face lines, sharp witty eyes of small size, light brown hair shaved thin which ended in a curious small mullet behind a thick neck, and framed his rather round face. He was dressed with black jeans, dirty grey boots and a olive green waistcoat over a burnt orange T-shirt, a rather sweaty T-shirt.

Guaine, very much unaware of his interlocutor's state of mind, continued spouting explanations, leaning himself against the bike:
- I arrived a couple of minutes ago and I'm impressed that the village is as quiet as a tomb. Seems like there isn't much popular demand in here. - he chuckled - You know, my Chevrolet van's engine broke down from overheating, some two and a half miles [4 km] from this neighbourhood, stopped there, to the southeast of Coupland.
I'm fairly certain it was a coolant leakage, though. I'd to walk all the way through this heaven forsaken desert to reach for help here, and, now, that definitely wasn't the most fun I've ever had. I need a tow vehicle to go and pick up the van, bring it and probably replace the radiator and a head gasket. And I come here and there's nobody. Not a soul. And the lighting sure leaves something to be desired.

Finally he shut up, but long before he finished his discourse, Dan had had something of an inspiration. Gip's words, unintentionally, had the effect of calming Dan a bit; this was a man that seemingly had no idea of what was happening in his surroundings. His unwilling presence in the town was a hopeful sign. It was definitely better to face the unknown with someone's else company.

Dan was now ambivalent towards this stranger: should he trust him and tell him what was going on ? But, at the same time it was reassuring, the fact of not being alone in a desperate plight that he (they) was.

After a small hesitation, a relieved feeling made Dan make the decision: he was going to relay the events to the man, as abridged as he could.
- You're in more than you bargained for. The van is the least of your troubles.
-What do ya mean? Why I've the feeling that I don't wanna know?

And Dan began to relate the night's shocking incidents.

Bitter Awakening

The apartment was immersed in obscurity, interspersed with tinges of blue and orange lights coming from outside.
The dripping, intermittent sound echoing through the walls.

Back to his feet, Dan was now face to face with the gruesome scene; how could his life change so much in so little time? Was that the price for the idleness befallen into his daily life?
Supporting himself on his left wall, he began to limp towards the half-closed door in front of him, at the end of the corridor.
There were bits of glass and shards of wood in the floor.
Those walls were blotched with large blood splashes and random claw marks...
The scent of chemicals was sprinkled in the air, mixed with another, more diffuse and nauseating smell.
Dan was was contemplating as undoubtedly wise to leave the building when a gush of wind fully opened the door, leaving Dan with the sight of the morbid set.

In front of him, to the right, there were a couple of ears cut cleanly off, and an array of internal organs spilled across the floor in an immense pool of blood.
Even more to the right there were two skinned bodies that seemed having the inside out, one of which had a missing head; the other had no feet and its arms had been removed clean off. Despite being thoroughly disgusted and daunted by the cruel spectacle, Dan noticed that the latter was leaner than the other remains, suggesting that it was the corpse of a female.
Their clothing had been reduced to loose coloured rags and threads, showing the open insides.
Further ahead there was a severed head... a recognizable head.
It had been ripped out from its body not long ago, and was now hanging at the top of the washing machine, dripping blood.
It was that man only a few hours ago was exploring the village with him. Eliah Pecora. Poor man, who seemed to be dismissing the strange state of the village and was now nothing more than a heap.

What to think of all this? In his journalistic journeys Dan had encountered his fair share of sordid stories, but something like this present situation was something that he could never imagine witnessing. What had happened to the dead bodies was definitely not natural. What in the world could had caused this ?

Run. Run. As fast as he could. Beside the kitchen stand, at the left, there were wide-open windows, covered by their pale white-green drapes floating due to the wind. Dodging that macabre scene, he ran to the windows to find a balcony that would lead to some stairs. Jumping through the window, he found the balcony to be old and precarious.

The kitchen stand was crawling with ants, trailing around in zigzags between the knives, spoons, other cutlery and a broken set of dishes and glasses; strewn all over the L shaped floor there were carrots, radishes, onions, tomatoes, lettuces, asparaguses and cucumbers. The unclosed water tap provided the dripping sound.

Ducking, he immediately grabbed the first step and began climbing down.
Dan finally left the chaotic, doomed place, using the emergency ladder, located at the outer side of the building. Descending quickly, he then reached an alley, next to the building. Upon touching the floor, he ran towards the parked bike, intent on riding aimlessly to the next town. He was running now in panic, as he was trying to hold himself in order to not cry tears of anguish.

As he crossed the corner, there was the indigo coloured bike. Without breath, he stopped to sparsely recover his breathing. He knew he was sick.
- That's a nice bike you got there; the chrome is a damn fine one.... a Honda CBR900RR, if I'm correct. I proudly own a Honda CB900F Hornet, myself. - he heard then, a jolly voice coming from his left side.