Darren Carey Darren Carey is a contributing author for Horror Rules. His current credits include The Recyclers as well as several soon-to-be-released Adventure Scripts. He has been an avid gamer and horror enthusiast for over 15 years, and has both played and game-mastered countless RPG's, from Vampire the Masquerade to Beyond the Supernatural. He is also involved in amateur film-making, with a degree in video production from Yakima Valley Community College. Darren also enjoys collecting comic books, DVD's and video games, and as such is the idol of those of us too busy to engage in such pursuits. He is quite bald. To contact the author, click here. Play the adventure script that inspired this story! Download "Artifact" now!

September Ninth

Just leaving a convenience store, located on the outskirts of La Grange, Texas. I Thought I'd stop off and get something to drink. My favorite drink. Sarsaparilla. At least that is what it was called in the days of the old west of North America. The label calls it root beer.

I am amazed with this country. I've been here for just a few short months, and am captivated by its diverse beauty. It is my experience that strangers in strange lands find unfamiliar surroundings warm and inviting. My home is in... was in Glasgow, Scotland. My parents were killed in an auto mishap when I was two years old. I was sent to live with my Aunt Shannon. Since she was thirteen years younger than my father, Auntie Shan was much more like a sister to me.

Two years ago, Auntie Shan met an American, who was spending the new year in Glasgow. His name was Richard Prince. They met in a pub on New Year's Eve, a week and a half later they were engaged. She left to go back to America with him. I was happy for them. I received letters from her, from her travels across the United States. That's how they were spending their honeymoon. It was her first time to the land of hope, promise, and dreams...

Odd. I ended that with the word "dreams."

Dreams.

Thoughts of hopes, aspirations, or past happenings? Not in my case. Twisted, bastardized memories of my loved ones. I wish I could just once dream of anything pleasant. The most horrific dream I ever had was of Auntie Shan. It was as if I was watching from inside a fish bowl. I saw a room lined with red curtains that ran from the ceiling to the floor, they also surrounded the room. No windows, no doors. The carpet was a black and white zigzag pattern. In the center of the room were three chairs. Two were side by side. The third was turned inward to face the other two. In between that third chair and the other two, was a tall lamp. The only thing I could hear was the muffled sound of ambient music. Kind of like some eerie form of jazz. The kind you may hear in a really bad gum-shoe serial. The music dies. The sound of thunder, and a blinding flash change the entire setting. The room stays the same but still it has definitely changed. Even though there are no windows, it is evident that a storm is raging outside. The curtains are violently swaying back and forth.

And in the middle of the floor are the lifeless, mutilated bodies of Richard and my Auntie Shan.

I've had that same dream every night since I received my final letter from her. That was in March. I used to receive her letters once a week. But ever since the dreams started, I received no more. In the last letter she said they were traveling along the west coast. It's taken me two and a half months to make it as far as La Grange. My destination is the west coast. Where? I don't know. I pray to God they are well. But my mind, my gut, and my heart tell me different. I have to know for sure.

Well, my sarsaparilla is now nothing more than back wash. I'd best get back on my Harley and... go West, young man.

September Sixteenth

I've been riding non stop for the better part of a week now, just stopping for gas and a quick bite to eat. I don't know what turns I've taken, routes I've traveled... basically, I don't know exactly how I got here. I'm now on the coast of Northern California, at a small diner called "EATS." Mabel, my waitress, says that I'm just outside a town called Las Calamas. She tells me it's a small, friendly town. That's what I'm looking for. Traveling does have a cost, and I'm running low on funds. I need to find some sort of a temporary job.

Back home I was really good with chemicals, mostly as they relate to Geology. Mabel also says that the town has it's own university, and that I should look up a Dr. Richard Leakey, the professor of both Geology and Archaeology. Perhaps I could get work as a lab assistant.

I've got to remember the diner just seven miles north of Las Calamas has a terrific French Dip sandwich.

Before I left, I used the washing facilities to make myself more presentable, for when I spoke with Dr. Leakey. Mabel is a student at the University of Las Calamas, so she was able to give me directions to the school.

I pulled into the school parking lot shortly after two thirty that afternoon. I found the science building with no trouble, and from there the entrance to his office on the second floor. I entered the small reception area, just a little room with three plastic molded chairs and his receptionist's desk.

The receptionist. A most attractive woman. At the risk of not seeming like a gentleman, I'd have to guess her being no more that four or five years older than myself. Long beautiful red hair, perfect complexion, and as far as I could tell, physically fit. "Perry O'Dell" is what the name plate on her desk read. When she spoke, she did so with sophistication, and the smooth sound of a nightingale. I could tell I liked this one, all right.

When she asked if she could be of any assistance, I requested to speak with Dr. Leakey. She stood stepped to the door, opened it and called to the doctor. She then turned to me and said that he would see me.

Dr. Leaky. An older man, in his mid to latter fifties, possibly early sixties. He had gray hair with a matching beard and professional looking, black, thick rimmed glasses. He pleasantly greeted me, and asked how he could help me. I explained to him that I am a foreigner, traveling across America, looking for my aunt. Of course I didn't tell him the details of why, nor of my dreams. But I did emphasize the importance of being able to make an honest dollar, so I could eventually be on my way.

He explained how he was always pressed for time, between classes, grading papers, lab work, and his continuous archaeological digs. Although he wasn't actively looking for an assistant, he confessed with a smile, it seemed that he had found one he needed badly. He offered to assist me in obtaining a work visa and the proper credentials to work and stay in the country. Fortune had smiled upon me as well, when he offered to have me stay in his guest house. In lieu of rent, I could help around the house as a handyman for he and his mother.

I could immediately tell that Dr. Leakey was an honest, trustworthy man, and that the feeling was mutual. As I was leaving, he informed Ms. O'Dell that I would be working with them. She presented her perfect smile and extended her hand to welcome me.

That evening I followed Dr. Leakey home, for one of the best home cooked meals I've ever had the opportunity to eat. Mrs. Leakey, the doctor's mother, is an elderly lady who is the most gentle, kind soul. I am so grateful that they have welcomed me into their home, and have accepted me as a member of the family. Over dinner, Dr. Leakey told me of his current dig, about twenty miles outside of town. I asked if he would mind if I took a ride out there to take a look. Since I was going to be assisting him, he had no problem at all. He gave me a key to unlock the gate of the cyclone fence that surrounds it. After dinner, I excused myself, said my good nights, unpacked my saddle bags and set out for the dig.

It took me about forty minutes to get there. On the way it started raining, though just slightly. I pulled up to the gate to discover that, quite to my surprise, the padlock had been broken, possibly by a bolt cutter. Lights illuminated from around the corner. I could see slight shadows in the distance. As quietly as possible, I moved to the shrubbery across from the opening to the dig. Just as I found myself a safe vantage point, I saw three figures climb up from the entrance and walk off into the night, leaving the lights on.

Just a side note, at this point; it is always a good idea to have the foresight to bring protection with you, when traveling in unfamiliar territory. Having that stated, I drew my side arm, a nine millimeter Gloch, and proceeded to enter the dig.

I could plainly see where the doctor was digging. The holes were located in the corners, just adjacent to a large stone wall. Throughout the floor of the dig were various footprints, most of which were made from what appeared to be bare feet. As odd as that seemed, it struck me even stranger that exactly in the center of the floor was a small stone cube. The way it was sitting there, it was evident that it didn't just happen to land on the ground like that. It was placed there with a purpose. I don't know what compelled me to do so, but I picked up that cube and placed it in my coat pocket. I turned the lights out and climbed out of the dig. The rain had stopped by this time. In the distance I could hear what sounded like voices. I hurried back to my vantage point, fearing the return of the mysterious figures. Indeed, a few moments later I watched as the shadows returned and climbed back into the dig. The lights didn't come back on, but I definitely heard some sort of commotion. One of the figures came out of the dig looking around. I don't think he saw me, I must have been covered by enough shadow, because he turned away. Just as he did so, a break in the clouds let the hunter's moon reveal a sight, a sight I still cannot believe that I saw. I'm assuming it was human, but it was missing massive amounts of flesh all over it's body and it's face. The left eyeball was still in the socket, the right was not. What teeth were left were not covered by lips. For a lack of a better term, it was a member of the walking dead.

I quickly crawled out of there and made my way to my bike and sped home. I locked the door and tried telling myself I was just hallucinating, imagining things. That thing didn't really exist. I thought it best to get some sleep.

I evidently did fall asleep, because I was awakened sometime during the night by the sound of dripping water. I got out of bed and walked to the wash basin, and pulled the chain to turn the light on. To my utter shock, I found the mirror steamed over. In the steam was written these words, as if by some invisible finger:

September Seventeenth

I felt terrible about the way I basically ignored Dr. Leaky and Perry today. I was still disturbed about the events of last night. I may be a foreigner, but I'm pretty bloody positive that seeing zombies walking about isn't the norm, even in America. It didn’t take me long to decide that something needed to be done. I finished my duties at the lab and politely excused myself for the rest of the day. Perry stopped me and gave me a piece of paper with her address and phone number on it. She said if there was anything that I wanted to talk about, to feel free and all her or come over anytime. I didn't doubt her sincerity, but it wouldn't be polite of me to impose like that.

I already had a nine millimeter Gloch in my possession, but I needed something else. Something for shorter range. I stopped by the local sporting goods store and purchased a rather large hunting knife. Not a machete, mind you. Just a large hunting knife. It came with a sheath that straps around my calf and ankle. Its blade is made of long, sleek, cold steel. Its handle is easy to grip. I felt safer already.

Especially with what I had planned.

I rode to the "EATS" diner for supper. While reading the menu, I noticed it had a name... or at least used to. The top of the menu read "The Lamplighter Inn." I had the house special - a deluxe cheese burger, large order of chips (or fries as they're known here in the States), and a large strawberry soda. By the time I was finished nursing my drink, the sun had set. It was now time to return to the dig. I parked my motorcycle about half a mile from the site and hid it behind some foliage. I was actually able to make my way to the site from the back, by traversing through the wilderness.

When I was within sight of the dig, I saw what appeared to be another zombie standing guard at the front of the entrance. I needed to get past. The answers I was looking for were inside, not outside. A diversion was what I needed, and the lack of preparation left me with only one rather unoriginal option - throwing a rock. Sometimes simple is best. The missile crashed into some distance sagebrush, and the less-than-human thing went lumbering off into the shadows. Quickly, I darted into the site, trying not to think too much about what I was doing. It looked quite the same as last night. The holes that Dr. Leaky had dug were the same as before. There was something new, however. A large stone slab, much like a monolith, similar to the ones in the American movie "2001: A Space Odyssey." It gave off an odd feeling. Something like a warm chill, with a damp overtone. A faint hum also seemed to come from it. I reached my hand out to touch it, and as I drew closer, the hum became louder.

At that moment my attention was suddenly caught be three figures standing in the entryway of the chamber. Two were zombies, the third was a well dressed elderly man with silver hair and a matching goatee. The suddenness of their appearance gave me a start, and them the initiative. He motioned to the two zombies and with surprising speed they leapt on either side of me, grasping my arms. I tried struggling, but the one to my left pulled me close to its face and shrieked. The stench that emitted from that mouth was more fowl than anything I'd smelled before. Even worse than feces. The older man stepped toward me. He reached back and struck me. The flesh of the back of his hand felt as coarse as sandpaper and hard as a rock. In spite of his age and my youth, I was thrown to the floor.

"Leave us," he said to his minions, in an accent I was not familiar with. I sought to rise then, but was spared the trouble in the next of many surprises. With one motion of his arm raising, I was elevated, without him touching me, and thrown across the chamber. My second fall was worse than the first, and much less gentle.

"Why don't you just give me my key back, Mr. McAllister?"

My eyes widened in surprise.

"Yes, I know who you are, and that you work for Dr. Leaky."

"What are you talking about?" I asked while I lurched to my feet and desperately rubbed the dust and dirt from my eyes.

Again, I was airborne, and landed on the other side away from this man. I was becoming entirely dissatisfied with the whole proceedings.

"The stone cube that you pilfered from my property last night, you witless dolt. Do not try to fool Ash, Mage Supreme!" he barked. I had no idea what the old lunatic was babbling about, but one thing did ring a bell, matching the din in my echoing skull - the cube.

I rose to one knee, pulling the object from its berth in my coat pocket. "Be this what you're looking for?" Then, with feeling, I put it away. That proved a mistake. Ash's arms raised and began to glow. Sparks danced about his fingers. Although I had never before experienced this in my life, I had little doubt what was coming. He thrust his arms outward and arcs of lightning sprang forth. I lunged beneath the lightning and charged toward him, drawing my new hunting knife. As I neared my assailant, I drove the blade into his chest. He stopped, looked at me in a dull surprise, grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and tossed me to the far wall again. For the fourth time, I went down - hard.

But I had fallen before, and kept my grip on the knife. A dazed glance, however, showed no blood was on its blade. I looked to see Ash advancing toward me. No wound, no evidence of my attack. The surprises just kept coming. He stopped mid way between me and the monolith. Suddenly I felt the pain of electricity coursing through my body.

"I will not be cheated of this victory tonight! Not by anyone. Least of all not by some ignorant whelp! I alone must use the key!" He was screaming now.

A moment later the torment ceased. It took awhile to catch my breath, but when I had I dragged my way back to my feet. This time, as I slowly fought for balance, I noticed a square hole in the slab. Right about the size of my little cube.

"Now bring me the key!" Ash was commanding. I nodded. But giving up was not my intention. I had also noticed a half-cocked support beam between us, and while I made my way over I feigned a stumble. The effect of my weight toppled the beam, and fortune also brought down a portion of the roof onto my tormentor. He was down and stunned. I immediately jumped onto his back, grabbing the back of his hair, slammed his face into the ground. This time I saw blood. The Scot in me over. I turned him over and began to rain blows upon his face.

After only a few, however, his hands wrapped around my throat. He rose to his feet, and tossed me to the ground, as easily as a child. Again, he stood between me and the monolith. But something had suddenly occurred to me. In my desperation, I took hold of the stone cube. Ash was adamant about him being the one to place the stone into the slab. No one else. I was about to ruin his day.

This time he had been visibly hurt by my attack. He raised his arms again, the power building. Before he could fire his lightning again, I charged him, landing my shoulder into his chest. He took to the ground hard. I took the liberty of placing the key into the monolith.

The hum came again, but this time louder than before. A mist seeped from the monolith. It quickly gathered around Ash, raising him up into the air, spinning him around. The zombies stumbled back into the chamber at this point, evidently aware of their master‘s peril. It was their mistake. The mist engulfed them, burning them where they stood.

The vapor hung in the air in front of me. It was my turn.

Slowly, it swirled, shifting and whirling in the torchlight. Slowly, the white vapors seemed to take the shape of two people. I could tell only that they were (once?) human, but no more or no less. Then, with another shifting of the mist, they seemed to smile at me, as if in gratitude. Then they were gone.

Abruptly Ash fell to the ground with a hollow thud. He was trembling as he eventually stood up. He muttered something incoherent, and wandered away. I felt it best to let him go, not least because of the utter numbness I suddenly felt.

What had just happened? I stopped this man from doing something that was undeniably evil, of that I am certain. I believe I did something good.

But beyond that, who can say? The figures in the mist, the strange monolith, the zombies, the mystical forces commanded by this strange mage... My world seemed suddenly less certain and somehow much, much bigger.

I even wondered, just for a moment, if it all could somehow be related to the disappearance of my Aunt, as if some strange force had drawn me to Las Calamas in pursuit of the truth.

But for all that, I have no answers. Only one thing is for certain - I’m convinced I’ve seen the last of Ash.

Maybe now I'll be able to get some rest.