The Creepypasta Collection, Volume 2 by MrCreepyPasta

Author:MrCreepyPasta
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Adams Medias

BATS IN WINTER

Isaac Boissonneau

It was a cold, windy winter evening in December when the phone on Officer Jonathan Erskine’s desk started to ring.

Erskine, who had been awaiting the call with the kind of quiet worry that was normally felt during long hours in a hospital waiting room, jumped at the sound and snatched the phone from its cradle with trembling hands.

“John, it’s me, there’s been another one. It’s . . . it’s bad, John, it’s real bad,” said the man at the other end of the phone, his voice fizzling out intermittently as the harsh winds shook the cables of the telephone poles across the county.

Erskine sighed miserably as he opened his desk drawer to retrieve pen and paper. The illness, a malady of the blood which most of the nondelusional public had dubbed “NS1847,” had finally arrived at his doorstep with the fury of the gale, bringing with it a rising tide of murder and violence.

How many does this make, now? he wondered as he jotted down the address. Of course, he knew how many, he had memorized every blank-eyed stare, every tattered wound, every single flake of ash that danced in the wind. Their cumulative effect would never leave him, ever.

“This makes twenty-one, John,” said the voice, as if to answer his musings. “When are these kids gonna learn?”

“Never, Ellis,” said Erskine, his voice soft. “They keep reading those damned books and seeing all of those stupid ass videos online. When did we start glorifying viruses? You don’t see people with AIDS posting videos of them showing off their symptoms.”

“Well,” said Ellis in a faintly bemused tone, “to be fair, AIDS can’t make you strong enough to rip the head off a fellow human, or let you see in the dark, or make you faster than most sports cars . . .”

Or let you live forever. Ellis didn’t need to say that last bit aloud. Erskine could hear it hanging heavily in the silence that followed. He was glad that his partner hadn’t said that; he didn’t know how he’d react if he heard those words spoken with even a shred of longing or hope.

“Since when are you taking their side? I thought you of all people would be as opposed to this shit as I was.”

Ellis coughed loudly, then responded, “I am, John. But you’ve gotta admit, on the outside it does look like a pretty good deal.”

“Yeah, so did eating from the tree in the Garden of Eden,” said Erskine, even as some wicked part of him whispered, Is he talking from experience?

Ellis coughed again, louder and longer, until Erskine could hear him struggling for air.

When the fit had, thankfully, abated, he asked, “Are you okay? Is it . . . ?”

He left the question unfinished, knowing the answer as another coughing fit filled the earpiece. He sounded worse than he ever had.

“ ’m fine,” Ellis said after regaining his breath, “ ’s just a cold, John. Just like the last five times and just like the next five.

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