Haunted TimesMature

Slam, slam, slam; the old rusty door showered dust onto the floor as the force behind it pounded away on it. Silence followed the loud pounding, and the entire building creaked and groaned with the torrent of hard winds outside. They were carrying clouds along the skies, black and threatening rain.
    Slam, slam, slam, again went the pounding on the door. Spiders scurried away from the vibrations, confused and infuriated. The pounding began once more until finally the door gave way and blew inwards, the aged rusty bolt holding it closed, no longer able to provide it's services. The wind joyusly blew inside, stirring up clouds of dust as it raped the floor with its intense power. As the dust settled, three figures began to appear at the entrance, as though cautious to enter.
    "Alright, it looks clear, move out," a voice echoed into the empty hallway.
    Instantly the three figures began to move into the building, slowly though, their steps exaggerated and cautious. One of them looked up at the decorative hangings of cobwebs covering the ceiling.
    "Jesus, the spiders made quick work of this place," a female voice called out.
    The two others looked up as well, the webs looked as though they had been abandoned for quite some time. The one at the front made a wave of his hand and the two figures moved on.
    All three were holding weapons, semi-automatics, and they were all holding them at the ready, incase someone or something decide to make a move at them. Although, in this tomb of a building, it didn't seem like there was anything alive; lest the spiders.
    As they neared the end of the dark hall, the first came up to a light switch, he reached out and without a second thought flicked it. Nothing stirred. The power seemed to be a lost memory to this old place.
    "No power, flashlights on people," the commanding voice rang out.
    Three clicks and the room ahead of the hall was flooded in a blinding wash of beams. The three of them flooded over the small room, examining it slowly. A large three sink washing pit, a metal prep table, an industrial oven, and two doors for a walk in freezer and fridge. The tables and sink were bombarded in dust and cobwebs; Pans and dishes were still littered in the sink, as though whom ever had been the last in here, had not finished their work.
    "What happened in here?" the third person asked aloud, confusion in his voice.
    There was no reply, and the question stayed a hypothetical one as the flashlights continued to quickly scan the area. To their left was a storage area, and to the right, a small office and the entryway to the rest of the building.    
    The leader turned around and pointed one of the team to the storage and the other out to the front. He pointed at his eyes, as if to say, keep a close watch. They broke instantly and headed in their seperate directions. The leader watched the other two go, as if on sentry for them and then headed to the small office. The door was shut and the window papered up, just like the windows in the main lobby, he noted.
    He remembered how strange it was that a chain restuarant such as this one would suddenly paper up its windows and close down business without telling a soul, including...CLANG, clang-clang.
    Instinct took over and the leader spun around towards the noise, instantly cocking his weapon. From the storage room, the other member of the team appeared suddenly and shone his light towards the offense as well. A large metal bowl rolled along the floor until it fell sadly on its side and lay still once more. The flashlights buzzed around the room once more, until they fell upon a shiny area on the prep table, where the dust hadn't settled, in a perfectly circular area. Exactly where the bowl would have sat. The circle was in the complete center of the prep table, and a line ran from it to the edge of the table; the bowl had been pushed.
    A scream rang through the building, and, the bowl forgotten, the two men ran towards the front. They both hustled through a large backline kitchen area and up towards the store counter. Ahead of the counter the figure of their partner was hunched over one of the tables.
    "Beaudin, report!" the commanding voice called out to her.
    She turned around, looking confused in the bright lights that shone over her face.
    "Uhm, nothing to report...Sir?" she questioned.
    "You didn't just scream?" he asked.
    "No Sir," Beaudin replied, "I was just examining the tables for any evidence."
    She shrugged and the leader pulled out his radio.
    "What the fuck is going on in my town," he grumbled, to no one in particular, as he turned on the dispatch radio.
    "Roxy, this is Captain Foster, come in please," he barked into the mouthpiece.
    Crackling silence replied. Foster tried again, more insistent this time.
    "Roxy, Foster here, come in now, we have an emergency."
    The radio crackled louder this time but there was a voice through the static.
    "Repeat Roxy, didn't pick that up," Foster replied.
    "Ge.....ttt," the voice said.
    Foster grunted in agitation and tried once more.
    "Roxy, get what, get what? Respond!" he yelled.
    "GET OUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTT!" a loud voice screamed through the radio.
    Suddenly lights came on all over the store and the muzak rang to life, playing some unrecognizable tune. The lights uncovered what the darkness had hidden from the team's eyes, skeletal remains of ten or so people, were scattered all over the lobby.
    "Oh fuck, oh fucking shit," the male team member cried out.
    "Get ahold of yourself Ramirez, it's not like you haven't seen a dead body before," Foster grumbled.
    "Sir, this is impossible, these bodies are fully decomposed, that takes years, "Beaudin coughed," And this store has only been abandoned for..." she trailed off.
    "Two weeks," Foster finished for her.
    She was about to say something else, when something above her caught her eye. Whatever was in her field of vision was out of Foster and Ramirez's. Her eyes opened in silent horror, but that silence was broken as she let out a blood curdling scream.
    Suddenly the lights dropped again, as lightening tore across the sky outside and the thunder rattled the store. The loud roar of thunder almost was able to mask Beaudin's screams, but Foster and Ramirez could still make it out. They shone their flashlights over the lobby, but she could not be seen.
    There was a smashing sound as something large in the lobby toppled over, and her screams continued, although the were jaggled cut short at times. Until finally there was a gurgling choking noise in her voice and she fell silent.
    "Beaudin! Beaudin, where the fuck are you!" Foster yelled out.
    Something whizzed by Ramirez's flashlight beam; then it flashed by Foster's. Then Ramirez again. It was like a black cloak, as though something was flying around. Ramirez lost his nerve and fired into the lobby.
    Foster moved to him and pushed his weapon down.
    "No Ramirez, Beaudin is still out there, and she may still be alive!" he yelled.
    A roaring noise suddenly boomed over the store and surrounded them, followed by thousands of screaming voices, all screaming in an unholy unison. Suddenly Ramirez flew up over the counter and into the lobby, his flashlight flying wildly to the ground. The beam washed over him and Foster watched as he was torn in two suddenly, being pulled by two enormously strong invisible forces.
    His top half groped around for his gun, as his legs twitched and kicked, and then became lifeless. Ramirez was screaming, reaching for the gun, with no idea where it was, until suddenly the flashlight was kicked away by an unseen foot, and the sound of his screaming was cut off by the sound of a gruesome crunch.
    Foster breathed heavily, sweating profusely as he tried to take in what had just happened. None of his training had prepared him for anything like this, and he felt his mind began to go white with confusion and fear.
    Laughter filled his ears. A deep, gutteral, beastly laugh; a laugh no man could make. It was toying with him, playing games with his mind, and his mind finally snapped. Foster shot into the store, firing round after round of bullets until his gun, click click clicked. Empty, nothing left, no protection. Although, the laughter had stopped.
    Outside the storm raged on now, lightning flashed even through the paper, and Foster could make out the figures of the dead. The bones of the forgotten; two weeks and they were nothing but dusty bones. In fact the entire store looked as though it had been abandoned for years, as though it was caught in some time warp seperate from the rest of the world.
    A flash of lightning again, but this time something was different. The bodies, they were gone. No, no not gone; they were standing. All of the skeletons were standing, they were starring at him, pointing.
    "No, this is not my fault! I tried, I tried to save you, SHUT UP!" Foster screamed, "Shut the fuck up you bastards!"
    They moved towards him, pointing, and now Beaudin was there too, completely gutted, her intestines falling out of her stomach. Ramirez too, his feet getting up, his torso climbing his legs and trying to attach itself to his body. They were pointing as well.
    "Stop! Stop torturing me with your fucking lies! I didn't do this to you!" Foster screamed out.
    He bolted, towards the back, running past the small backline area and into the prep room again. Although, he forgot the metal bowl and as he ran, his foot struck it and caught him, sending him sprawling forwards, his flashlight smashing to the ground and going out instantly.
    Foster groaned, and pushed himself up groggily, trying to make himself move, trying to get out. The lights overhead suddenly came on again, and Foster found himself up against the walk in fridge door, near the office. He spun around.
    The Beaudin and Ramirez were there now, behind him. And behind them was their small army of the dead, all pointing.
    "Oh I see now, Beaudin and Ramirez have gone Nato, gone over to the other side eh? Well I know what to do with fucking traitors."
    He tried to fire at them, but his rounds were gone, so he threw his gun at them. It hit Ramirez, knocking his torso to the floor.
    "Aha, you traiterous scum, take that. You want some more?" Foster screamed.
    Suddenly the door beside him to the office began to open slowly, and a light shone out at him. Foster got to his feet slowly staring into the small office. His eyes were wide and fearful, but also calm.
    "Wa-wait, I know this, I know you," he called into the office, "what happened?"
    Without warning four lines of tentacle-like black cloth flew out and wrapped around Foster, and as he screamed with his last breath they pulled him into the office, and the door slammed shut behind him. The lights went out once more, and the spiders went back to work building their disturbed webs.

The End

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