Red Rain by Dane Hatchell

Author:Dane Hatchell [Hatchell, Dane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Mind Hemorrhage Press
Published: 2012-09-02T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

Time was no longer of concern. The individual did not exist. The collective was all. Mark resurfaced back into a civilization that looked more like a war zone.

Abandoned cars and trucks littered the highway making it impassable. He maneuvered his cycle as well as he could and eventually turned at a road sign that had ‘Malcolm County Prison’ printed in bold white letters. The prison was a mile down the road next to a small defunct airfield, both a product of the 1950’s.

The prison had long ago reached capacity and several expansions were evident.

Mark’s first contact with his brethren was without fanfare. The guards stood idly by as he drove through the main gate. The red faces looking back showed expressions of recognition, of sharing, of belonging. Mark parked the cycle and killed the engine. Exhaustion pulled at his will to stay awake. His brothers and sisters were busy as ants moving about at tasks instinctually set for them. He made sure to stay out of their way.

He entered the north cell wing and walked onto the main floor. It also served as the dining area. The floors were made of dark spotted terrazzo and hadn’t been cleaned in a while. Above were two stories of cells that circled around the main floor. Some of the cells were empty but those that weren’t housed humans. Perpetual fear gripped their expressions as they looked down onto the floor.

An internal clock struck and a number of the red stained hybrids flooded into the wing next to Mark. Others made their way up to the cells. Ungodly screams of terror reverberated against the concrete walls. Eight humans were extracted and forced to the dining area below.

The prisoners were strapped to blood stained tables and stripped of their clothing. Mark watched without care and concern as his ravenous brethren bit, chewed, gnawed, and gnashed at the bodies. The symphony of screams eventually turned to gurgles. The gurgles gave way to silence. Mark made sure to feed as well, sometimes having to shove others out of his way to get at mouthful of bloody meat.

The bones and gore not consumed were scraped into plastic bags. Those that fed washed in the kitchen, and marched in silence out a rear door. Mark joined in with them.

They stopped at a barracks full of military style cots, with almost half of them being full. The occupants were oblivious to the new arrivals. Mark took the first available cot and laid his tired body down.

After one feeds, one must rest.

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