1 Incident at the Charles River (Edited)

A dreary atmosphere oozed from every pore of the beating heart of Massachusetts, It was as if within the city all sunshine and warmth evaporated. Leaving only an unsettling feeling of heaviness that festered. 

Shrouded within were rows of gothic colonial era buildings, and jutting skyscrapers that dominated the city centre. The streets below, packed with busy commuters, crisscrossed like capillaries. Each filled with traffic perpetually stuck in a deadlock. Their horns blared, the sounds echoing across the narrow townhouses and converging into a crescendo of noise that blanketed the city in a haze.

Within this frenzy of human activity sat within a bus, stuck in traffic, was a man called Levi Adams. His idle eyes stared through a window lost within his thoughts.

He had lean facial muscles, that could only come from extensive exercise, that highlighted his sharp facial contours. High cheeks, defined jawline and a prominent, slightly crooked nose. All overcast by untamed ink-black hair that sat above his contrasting almost glowing, electric blue eyes, that were narrowed in slits.

His phone rang and turned to see the name Maggie on the screen. He half considered answering, though she knew he never answered his phone while away at competition. He'd just finished a gruelling schedule, once again winning the National kendo championships. But frankly he didn't have the will nor the energy to speak to her, so he left the phone to ring. There had been tension before he'd left, and he knew It had been him.

He was meant for something more, to live up to his potential, to do something great. But instead he went to a college he didn't like, participated in events he despised, and was taking it out on the only person who supported him unconditionally. And that only made him angrier.

Her understanding nature, her forgiveness, tolerance only fueled the fire of discontent that burned within him. Because he couldn't forgive himself, he couldn't tolerate and neither would he understand. There was only one thing he would ever expect or tolerate from himself. And that was nothing less than perfection. In all areas. And all things. 

Rain struck the glass, the start of a heavy shower. Levi broke from his thoughts and a sigh escaped his mouth as he saw the bus remained stuck. He turned to try and rest his eyes, only to be interrupted by a startled noise from the driver.

With interest he looked over, only to see him peering out ahead. He followed his gaze and saw emergency lights flashing ahead, intrigue making him get up and walk over to the driver to get a better look.

When he got beside the driver, Levi noted a police cordon ahead near a car pile-up. There were a couple officers, with grim countenances, diverting traffic from the crash and further up was a few more dragging a flattened body from the wreckage; bloody drag marks marking their progress. Soon they shrouded the woman in cloth, providing her with some dignity and protection from the elements.

Next his gaze wandered to a man near the wreckage. He was bloodied, his body cut and scraped with one wound on his shoulder making him grimace as paramedics attended to it. He noted his hazy eyes tracking the body from the crash as it was ferried into an ambulance and carried off. Levi was unable to place the man's expression. It was somewhere between relief and fear, or maybe it was a bit of both.

Some time passed and Levi was beginning to lose interest, at least until they attempted to move the wounded man towards an ambulance. He was supported by two paramedics, but soon fell sprawling on the road; breaking out into a seizure not long after.

Levi watched the two paramedics who were quick to respond try and treat the man writhing spasmodically in the pouring rain, and couldn't help but feel something was very off. 

—

"Shit Daniel, he's completely unresponsive! Get the defib; I'll start CPR," said Mike, a long time paramedic. He began chest compressions, but he could see the colour draining from his face.

"One, two," 

"One, two," 

"One, two,"

"Daniel, where's that defib!" he shouted. He could feel it. That familiar dread he'd always felt when a patient's life was slipping away.

"Mike, it's here; attach the pads," said Daniel, handing the small defibrillator to Mike, who snatched the wires and placed the pads around the patient's heart.

"Pads attached. Ready. One, two, three, clear," the distinctive buzz of electricity sounded as the patient arched his back in convulsion before he thumped back onto the concrete again; yet, nothing. 

"Still unresponsive. Resuming chest compressions," Mike shouted. "One, two, three."

But the+ man didn't respond. And as the minutes slipped by, it began to look like a foregone conclusion. However, after one round of defibrillation, his eyes snapped open.

"Thank the lord! We brought him back," stated Mike in disbelief.

After the last 20 minutes, he'd all but given up hope. "Okay, Sir, I know this may be disorientating but just relax for me. My colleague is getting a stretcher, and we'll be taking you to Massachusetts general. You've been in an accident, we need to take you by ambulance. Don't move any more than you already have, lest anything else happens. So remain calm and lay still, okay," relief bled into his tone, a smile creeping onto his face.

However, the patient didn't seem to comprehend his words. Instead, he fixed his dazed eyes towards him. He'd seen this before; it was shock. He grasped the man's shoulder with a disarming smile, and said, "It's gonna be alright. You're gonna be alright. Sit tight, and everything will be okay."

At this gesture, the man seemed to comprehend something in his cloudy brown eyes. And Mike saw the moment the switch flipped, and for a second before it happened he could see the raw primal hunger in the man's eyes; but it was too late. Hands latched around his neck and a snarl was the last thing he heard before teeth tore into Mike's throat.

—

It would be a lie to say the death was instant. Everybody there would remember the paramedic's breathless wheezing from the bloody hole in his throat; while the monster gnawed his neck cartilage. He'd fought for a few moments, but that fight was short lived and before long he'd gone limp.

The other paramedic was the first to react, rushing the two. A scuffle ensued and he ripped the bloody jaws from the body of his partner. 

The frenzied man was only beaten off for a second though, before he released an animalistic shriek and lunged at the paramedic who'd beaten him off. Its body slammed into him, sending them both careening to the road. The man's jaw broke on contact and he grunted in pain, before it morphed into an agonising scream, his shoulder beset by the jaws that killed his friend.

"Argh! Stop!" he wailed, his pleas giving him no reprieve. "Ahh! Please," he continued, his voice hoarse. Before the sound of gunshots was heard.

'Bang!' 'Bang!' 'Bang!'

A couple police officers, having finally reacted and ran over from the traffic cordon. And from when the first gunshots sounded, things descended into chaos.

—

It was a routine car accident. But nothing felt routine anymore. Too many whisperings of strange happenings. Of tragic shootings, dead people waking up in morgue and disappearing, bloodbaths in homeless shelters and junkie dens. Everyone was on edge. There was a storm brewing and everybody could feel it.

"Great It's pissing down," Rudy grumbled. It had been threatening to do so all day, but it had to happen when he was working outside. "Jack imma get some waterproofs from the back, i'll be back now."

He ran over to the squad car and fumbled with the keys before opening the car and grabbing the waterproof jackets. He straight away slipped one on and was about to slam the door shut, when he heard the radio sound on his jacket.

"We've got an ASPO in District 4, South End. Officer was called out for another case of community disturbance and a possible domestic violence. Calling on a nearby unit to respond and send back up," he looked apprehensive at his receiver and considered responding before he heard the radio once again.

"This is Victor Alpha 1, we're on route to South End," Rudy, took a heavy glance at the receiver before he placed it back on his jacket and closed the car door. But he couldn't help but dwell again on what he'd heard. 

'Another assault on an officer. How many does that make today? Five? Six?' It was strange. They were numbers you'd see over a month or a bad couple weeks. 'And what was it yesterday? 7 or 8?' He'd seen a couple of the officers who'd responded and all of them looked off. Not that it was surprising given that in the space of a day, several officers were hospitalised and there were grumblings and somebody had died. But the brass had brushed it off. 

Still he shook off his thoughts as he reached Jack and tossed a jacket over to him. "Thanks Rudy," he replied, but Rudy grunted back before they got back to work. 

"You hear the radio?" He asked Jack. He got a confused look and he nodded. "That makes 14 cases in two days…" he continued, his statement making Jack's countenance go tense.

"Yeah I know," he responded.

"You heard anything? I know you and Rogers are close," Rudy asked, and he thought he spotted an uncertain expression on his face. 

"He mentioned some things…" He said. "But you didn't see him man, he was in a real bad way and was saying some crazy shit. And after the commander called him into his office, he went real quiet and his story did a 180, telling me it was the stress and shit. Don't know what the commander said, but it seemed to scare the shit out of him." 

"What'd he say? Before he got called in?" Rudy pressured. Jack looked conflicted.

"Something about demons walking in dead peoples skin," he said, with some hesitation. "I pressed him about it and he began rambling about the blood and the bodies. I gathered he was talking about some murdered family. Real savage gory shit, looked like they were set upon by a pack of rabid animals. He checked them all. Checked if there was any survivors but nothing, no pulse, nothing." 

"But while they were casing the house, they heard someone downstairs and they both went to check. And one of the people he'd thought dead had got back up. After that he started getting hard to follow, but it seems he was attacked and his partner was hurt pretty bad. Even showed me his wrist and there was a bite mark."

"What the fuck," Rudy replied, looking taken aback. "You sure you're remembering right?"

"I don't know man, it was hard to get anything coherent. But I remember the bite on his arm, and I know I didn't see Stevens at work today. Personally, I think there's some kind of new drug going around, and it's sending people kooky. But fuck if I know," Jack replied. Rudy went to say something again but stopped when he heard an offputting shriek.

"You hear that?" he asked, getting a nod from Jack. "What the fuck was that?"

"Yeah. It gave me the creeps," Jack said. Both of them looked around trying to find the source, but the heavy rainfall, and general hubbub of the city made it hard to pinpoint.

It was only when they heard a scream did they both run for the source of continued screams. They found what they were looking for when they rounded an ambulance, finding a dead paramedic with his throat torn out, and another being mauled by the man who'd been undergoing CPR.

"What the…" he heard Jack mutter, floored by what they saw. And so was he, but that didn't stop him raising his gun, and firing the first shot. 

He fired three times, each hitting the man's back and sending him tumbling to the floor. Only then did he release a shaky breath he didn't realise he was holding. He was shaken by the brutality, but also perplexed. 'What had happened,' he didn't get much time to dwell on that thought though.

"He's getting back up!" he heard Jack shout, disbelief filling him as he turned to see his partner open fire towards the man, he'd just shot multiple times. Who was now standing, enduring more shots to his chest as if nothing had happened.

'Bang!' 'Bang!' 'Bang!'

Hearing more shots, instinct drilled into him activated. He began shooting, but besides the initial few that staggered the man, he shrugged off the rest and sprinted at them. His snarling bloodstained teeth, making his heart drop. 

They only got in a few more shots, before he was upon them and they both scrambled out the way. While they avoided being bowled over and he went stumbling past, he saw Jack stumble and trip as he dodged; the man sprawled and his gun sliding loose on the floor.

He raised his gun again to fire again, but what he saw in the corner of his eye turned his blood cold. One of the dead men, the first paramedic with a bloody gape in his throat, was fumbling to his feet. The same glazed eyes and deathly pallor visible on the face of what should have been a dead man. And one sentence Jack said floated to his mind, 'Demons walking in dead people's skin...." 

"Oh shit. Fuck. Fuck," panic threatened to overwhelm him, but a sliver of rationality kept his gun primed. Several more barks of gunfire ensued at what he could only describe as a monster that converged on his partner. It was all ineffective though, and when he heard the click of an empty and saw both of them running headlong at him he baulked and dived out the way. 

He avoided getting tackled by the first, he wasn't so lucky with the second though. It had adjusted its angle and was upon him. He went to scramble, but he found he couldn't move his legs, his body refusing to listen to his commands. A spasm of dread jolted up his body and he closed his eyes, not wanting to see his last moment. 'Is this where I die,' he thought to himself.

There were heavy footsteps, a gurgling howl before he felt the air smacked out of him. He waited for the pain to come but nothing followed. His eyes only opened when he felt a sticky wetness drip on his face, only to see an oozing neck stump. Reviled, he pushed it from him, and scampered back. Not sure what had just happened, until he saw a young man standing among two decapitated bodies. 

He had an unapproachable air, holding a dripping red sword in one hand and a head, held by the hair, in the other. 

The man turned and and he met the placid, unblinking, blue eyes of his saviour. Rudy wanted to speak, but all words died in his mouth as it looked at the head in his hands. Because he saw that what he held was still alive. It's cloudy eyes staring up at him, it's bloody jaws clacking together in hunger. 

'What in the actual…' 

---

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P*treon: https://www.p*treon.com/ForeignSeeker (10 chapters ahead)