Letter from Clyde Baughman

Report on Clyde Baughman

Baughman's Apartment and Cabin Floorplan

Albany Green Box Floorplan

Interlude Operation LAZARUS (Agent Jude)

It’s been two months since operation Lazarus.  The scars have finally rendered themselves “uninfected”.  Whatever I had been scratched with must have been down in that tank rotting for decades.  The doctor’s said the only thing they had seen that causes such a festering wound in such a short period were alligator bites.
Work seemed okay with it, Christmas break dramas between me and my hunting habits.  Some of the guys knew about my cabin, they knew I liked to disappear into the wilderness for days on end.  Light duties for a while. Pills. Can’t forget the pills.
Charlie took some more convincing, it’s not every day that your partner ends up looking like they have gone 10 rounds with a bear in the ring.
The nightmares, they are still here.  Closing my eyes, when I hit that deep sleep cycle, she is there, the old woman, digging into my chest.  If it’s not her, it’s that fucking spider. That giant, fucking, spider, its eyes, a woman's eyes, they are burned into my brain.  What the hell was that thing?
I keep searching in the night for my weapon. The nights I wake up from those dreams, I always wake up clutching my 40 cal.
Pills. Take the pills, that’s all there is to give me a good night’s sleep.  The doctors can’t be told what happened, I’d be out of a job, most likely in a loony bin somewhere.
Charlie, she doesn’t need to know, she doesn’t even stay overnight anymore. Her rules, not mine, probably a good thing. I don’t want her to hear my midnight ramblings.
Take the pills. They won’t hurt, relax the mind.  It doesn’t even slow me down, just takes the edge off. Another month and I should be back to full duties, the doctor said that the scars won’t fade in a hurry, but full mobility and muscle tissue should be almost back to normal, then its just a week or so of stiffness.
I wonder if J-Cell has been back together? Should I use the phone they gave me? I wouldn’t be much use anyway - well maybe not.  The doctor went nuts and the old guy, well, he’s old.  I wonder if the spider bite killed him?
Shame, there seemed to be a soul under all that 1970’s tough guy routine.

Epilogue Operation LAZARUS (Agent Jason)

Somewhere near Albany.

Jason sipped from his coffee in the roadside diner. Jasper was playing around with the egg on his plate, while leafing through a magazine. Jason excused himself, got up and headed to the restrooms.

After checking the stalls were empty, he pulled his cell phone out and dialed A-Cell.

After a few moments, he heard the modified voice and answered whomever was listening on the other side.

"This is Jason. As discussed in the debrief, I am calling in. Fivehead..."

"Understood, Agent Jason"

The other person hung up.

Jason made his way back to their table and dropped a few bills next to his half finished meal.

"Let's go, Jasper"

"Did you wash your hands?"

He turned around and gave the waitress a nod and a smile before opening the door and heading to the parking lot. He opened the door of the dented white car and lit a cigarette, looking at Jasper who was walking towards him. Perhaps Nancy was right...

Operation LAZARUS De-brief

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From:          <JASON>  
Sent:          Monday, December 28, 1998 6:28AM
To:            <A-CELL>
Subject:       Operation LAZARUS Debriefing

Debriefing Operation LAZARUS, J-Cell, December 29th to 30th 1998
1.       J-cell met as per instructions and picked up the envelope at the Post Office. From there we went to the Green Box and made our way to Baughman's apartment.
2.       The apartment was already relatively clean. A gun was found and removed from the premises, and a room full of paperwork was carefully investigated. No incriminating documents were found.
3.       We did find a few invoices and electricity bills for a cabin, along with a set of keys, with one of them labeled "cabin".
4.       The garage and car were checked, all was clear there as well.
5.       We made out way to the cabin at Tupper Lake (address included). The whole place was also clean, apart from a footlocker (contents listed), including a letter asking whoever came to clean up to take care of something in the septic tank. He called it his "last and unfinished Opera" and told the reader "not to look".
6.       We proceeded as quickly as possible and moved the footlocker to the car, and started pouring gasoline. We heard a woman claiming to be Clyde's widow from inside the tank. Given the fact that his wife died years ago, and that no-one had been here to water/feed the woman, I didn't believe her to be mortal/human. I ordered the rest of the cell to continue.
7.       The thing was able to escape from the tank and in doing so wounded Jude severely. With some trouble we were able to overcome the creature, and proceeded to burn it in the septic tank. In the course of this, the knife from the locker went down into the tank and was destroyed.
8.       At this stage we left the scene, Jagger had given medical assistance to Jude, and we made our way back to the Green Box to drop off the footlocker.

This and the burning of the re-animated corpse concluded Operation LAZARUS.

However, further events unfolded at the Green Box.

a.     We found the padlock cut. I ordered J-cell to go in and investigate. Inside we found 2 persons, who identified themselves as Oscar and Oswald (severely wounded).
b.     As I was unsure about what was going on, weapons remained trained by both cells. We were joined by Oliver, who kept a weapon on Jude.
c.     Jagger assisted by giving Oswald some first aid. I asked Oscar if there were others and he said there was a woman in the back office. Something in his voice told me that matters weren't right. I told Jagger to assist her.
d.    Upon his return Jagger informed me that she was heavily pregnant, although she hadn't been 24 hours ago. We had found out that they had just returned from an op that had gone wrong. No-one from O-cell went into any details, but I had decided that if there was any risk here, the situation needed to be solved.
e.    I joined Jagger and Oscar, after making clear to Jude and Jasper to be ready if anything went wrong. When I saw Ophelia, it was clear something was very wrong. Oscar refused to see reason and didn't want to sort the situation out. At that moment he went for his gun, and I shot him. Simultaneously there was a noise in Ophelia's room. Jagger and I investigated and found an arachnid creature hanging from the ceiling, shedding its human skin. Jagger left the room, while I engaged. After a few shots, it was able to bite me. I blacked out.
f.    When i regained consciousness, the rest of the cell had dispatched the creature and Jagger had contacted you. We continued to clean the Green Box, All paperwork has been collected and is deposited in the Springfield Green Box, together with the footlocker from the cabin. The garage was thoroughly doused in petrol, and the remains of the creature were covered with rubber tires, on top of the grenade we had found. I feel that this explosion, along with the fire, would have been enough to destroy any evidence.
g.    The bodies of O-cell have been disposed of, along with their vehicle. I dropped Jagger and Jude off at the airport, and asked Jasper to stay with me, as I am worried that the creature may somehow have injected me with something that could overtake me. He is under instructions to neutralize me if in doubt. We are keeping a low profile at the Morning Dew Caravan Park, Catskills Mountains.
h.    I plan to call in four days time and mention the code-word FIVEHEAD. If no email is received, and you have not heard from Jasper, I think i have been overtaken by this creature and will probably have infected Jasper as well (undoubtedly, he would have contacted you otherwise).
In that case, I recommend to find and terminate Agent Jasper with extreme prejudice in order to avoid further contamination.

The creature looked like a man-sized arachnid. It injects poison through bites and had sucked the eyes and brains from Oscar's skull.
Hope this helps identifying it when cross-referencing the database.


Jason

DELETE this message after reading.
<PATH REDACTED>

Session 04 (Agent Jude)

I awoke to the semi alarmed whispers of Jason and Jasper, they were moving back towards the car from the back door of the green box.  The padlock that had held it closed was lying coldly on the ground.  Jason opened the rear door of the car and instructed us to get ready, Jasper and Jason had taken the shotguns from the trunk, I was armed with my snub nose 38, my Glock remaining in its shoulder holster under my coat.

Following Jasper, electing to stay on the more useful side of things in a firefight, we breached the door slowly, electing for the sneak rather than the full-on assault, a wiser decision given that we had, one sick, one wounded and two exhausted.

Agent Oscar

Jason took the lead, as soon as he was inside, his voice called out to identify, Jasper and Jagger entered next, Jasper moving to the far side of the loading dock to cover the shadowy figures on the raised platform.  I entered last and joined Jason, my pistol trained on a standing man in a suit talking on a phone, to his left, a slumped and bloody man, hunched against the wall at the top of the loading dock stairs.  The man Identified himself as “Oscar”, Delta agent.  As I saw Jasper and Jason had him covered with the shotguns, I continued my sweep on the ground floor, checking the truck and abandoned car, making sure there were no surprised before re-joining the team.

I looked Oscar over more carefully, he had a large revolver holstered at his side, yet he knew he was outmanned and any movement towards it was going to be his last.

Agent Oswald

Oliver continued to talk, “Oswald” is wounded, gut shot, as he pointed to the Hispanic man in civilian clothing slumped bloodied against the wall.  He also mentioned a woman in the back, also injured and in need of care, Jagger didn’t waste time, moving to Oswald, explaining he was medically trained and able to stabilise him.

As Jagger set out his medical bag, Jason was leaning on the raised wall of the loading dock as Jasper moved wider towards the truck parked close by as this standoff could take time.  Before I could move any closer to Oscar with the intent of disarming him, the back door behind me flung open, a large black man in a hood entered brandishing a semi-automatic SPAS-12 shotgun and jammed it straight into the back of my head.  The jolt of the barrel against my skull forcing my neck forward and the blood in my mouth from the previous night’s events emerging down my chin.

This new man “Oliver”, I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was on the edge.  He had a shotgun trained on him, Oscar had a shotgun strained on him, Oswald was bleeding out and yet he still insisted on us dropping our guns.  Ballsy, yet I was in no position to not comply. I let my pistol fall to the floor, he hadn’t seen my Glock, just in case I had to do something stupid.

Jason took over the negotiations, badly, using the classic “I don’t even like him” routine, part of me felt it was mostly true, I’m sure Jason wouldn’t have cared if my brains were all over the floor.  It was Jasper who showed the level head, he had the best view of Oliver, he lowered his shotgun and was doing his best to defuse everything.  Jagger had patched up Oswald as best he could, Oswald speaking Spanish at how he didn’t want to die.  Clearly the only one who could understand I responded to him, reassuring him that he was in good hands, all in Spanish.

Franchi SPAS-12 

My chest began to burn, having my arms up was stretching the slash marks across me, the staples feeling like they were about to burst.  I was allowed to drop to my knees and relax my arms slightly, the shotgun of Oliver still on me, I would feel it a few millimetres from my head, I didn’t care right now, my chest was a nightmare.

As things began to simmer down slightly, it was the brit who made the mistake, Jagger decided to pull a gun, Oswald’s gun.  Oliver saw it, his boot across my back, flattening me on the floor, face down, his foot coming to rest on my spine, his shotgun wedged against my neck, I could barely breathe.

Everything fired up again, the gun pointing, the yelling, the distinctive cocking noise of pump actions going to work, the only relief, no shots fired.

After a few minutes of listening to Jason try to control the situation, only to be met by Oliver’s crazed yelling made me think that this was the end, death by asshole, just what every man dreams of.

A few more minutes passed without everything going black for me, Jagger was to accompany Oscar to the back where the woman was, Ophelia he called her.  Jagger then disappeared having dosed Oswald with enough morphine to keep him out of the fight.  Jason in his divine wisdom thought it would be a good idea to keep at Oliver, all this was achieving was the grinding of a book in my back, blood now seeping through my bandages.  If I survived this, I was going to break that old jaw of his, I would sleep better knowing he wasn’t able to run his mouth for a week or two.

Again, Jasper was my saviour in disguise, his calm tone keeping Jason in cheque.  Jagger and Oscar eventually returned, Jagger clearly not coping well, his face a shade of green I hadn’t seen since the Chinese restaurant.  Something about a pregnant woman and the fact that she wasn’t pregnant yesterday, yeah, that sounds good.

Agent Oliver

Another heated exchange between Jason and Oscar, all about guns down and if he wants the use of our doctor, Oliver was going to have to get off me.  After a moment, Oscar came over to Oliver and took the shotgun from him, thank God.  I got up, looked in the eyes of my potential murderer, his eyes were everywhere, I had seen this before, on addicts and junkies, this guy was losing it, I was lucky to still be breathing.  This guy was huge, 6’5 at least, built like a guy who lives at the gym, no wonder his boot hurt so much.  I looked him eye to eye, or more like eye to chin, I couldn’t help myself, I gave him a wink for good measure.

Jason and Oscar got back into their discussion, the woman, Ophelia was in the first office through the meeting room, she was not doing well, the panic in Oscar’s eyes suggested something more, perhaps a personal connection of some kind.

The conversation shifted, Jason became edgy, looking to Jagger with all seriousness, it was decided, Jason, Jagger and Oscar would go and check on Ophelia, the noises she was making from the back rooms now sounded like violent vomiting.  Jasper and I were to stay with Oliver and the unconscious Oswald.  Before moving up to the offices however, Jason looked at both Jasper and me, nodding with serious eyes, we both returned the nod, if this went bad, it was going to go bad in a hurry.  Oscar returned Oliver’s shotgun to him before following Jason, Oliver however held it by the barrel, not on the grip, giving us time to act before he got a shot off if anything took a bad turn.

Arguing could be heard emanating from the office area, Jason, Oscar, Jagger, all talking in loud and aggressive tones.  Jasper and I both looked at each other and began our plans to distract Oliver, mentioning that we should really go up there for a closer look.  Oliver wasn’t moving, he was losing it, he didn’t want to go up there, not under any circumstances.

A shotgun blast filled the air, as we knew Jason was the only one carrying a shotgun, it was clear to us what was happening.  Jasper pulled the trigger of his revolver, firing at Oliver from inside his pocket as the giant fumbled his shotgun for a wayward return of fire.  We scattered across the loading dock, drawing my Glock from my holster I took position by the door, no one was getting out of here without going through me.  Jasper leapt up the loading dock, taking cover behind one of the stone pillars supporting the roof.  Oliver dashed away behind the truck parked on the lower level.  Jasper was his target, letting fly a series of blast in his direction, Jasper returned fire, narrowly missing Oliver, the dust kicking off the walls right behind him.  I let loose too, my first shot catching Oliver somewhere in the stomach, his muffled gasp revealing to me two things, he was angry, and he was wearing body armour.

More gunfire erupted from the area of the offices, taking my attention of Oliver briefly, only to see the flickering lights flash brighter with every blast of shotgun fire.  Returning my attention to Oliver, I fired again, this time slamming lead into the rear of the truck a mere inch from his face, causing him to recoil slightly out of view.  Jasper did the same, send another two shots dangerously close the Oliver, enough to make sure he kept himself well hidden.

Jasper opened the chamber of his revolver, sending brass to the floor, calling out to Oliver as he reloaded, something along the lines of us all being on the same team.  Oliver’s response was another shotgun blast, only retorted by my own shots back at him to no avail.

Jagger suddenly appeared, running for his life, across the loading dock and straight for the door where I was standing.  He didn’t seem to care that he was running through a gunfight, he just wanted out, as he got closer, his eyes were not right, like Oliver, he was losing it, if not had already lost it.  What was going on up there.  As I glanced up to the offices, another violent flash and roar of a shotgun could be seen, Jason was still going, he was still alive.  Jagger ran to the door, extending my arm to him, I yanked him out of the way as soon as possible to keep my eyes on Oliver.

Looking to Jasper, I motioned to him to try and get behind the truck, at the base of the stairs next to him, Jasper had an easy path to flank Oliver, as long as nothing went wrong.  I gave Jasper the count and unleashed a hail of bullets all around Oliver as Jasper moved down the stairs.  I moved back into cover only to see Jasper however had stumbled, scaping himself on his hands and knees into the cover of the truck, not quickly enough however to avoid the attention of Oliver who was still firing his shotgun at Jasper.

I checked my magazine before firing my next volley at Oliver, three in the mag, one in the chamber, three rounds, I could reload, can’t waste the rounds, not now.

Looking back towards the offices to see if Jason would emerge, all I could see was Oswald, he was conscious, lying on his side, his arm raised shakily, a pistol pointed at me.  He was begging me to stop, lay my gun down, I couldn’t, his eyes met mine, he knew I wasn’t going to stop, he fired at me, his shot slamming into the top of the door frame above me.  Without thinking, as if on impulse, I spun my arms to his direction.  I fired once.  Once was all it took, his spine blowing out the back of his neck as my shot had hit him square in the chin.  The Threat was down, back to Oliver.

Jasper moved quickly once he had steadied himself, disappearing around the front of the truck as I raised my pistol back towards where Oliver had been visible.  A short burst of pistol fire erupted sending Oliver into my view, raising his shotgun, Oliver let go a blast that made Jasper grunt, followed by another pistol blast, he had emptied his revolver as Oliver stumbled further into my view.  Two shots, both slamming into Oliver’s side, his damn armour the only thing between my 9mm and his life.

Oliver suddenly dropped the shotgun and let out a crazed scream, turning his attention from Jasper to the doorway I was standing in.  He ran at me, he was crazed, like a mad dog, he was coming fast.  Without thinking, I squeezed the trigger again, Oliver falling a foot from my feet, the small hole in his forehead giving way to the blown-out section of the back of his skull.

I stared at Oliver, was he coming for me? or was he just trying to get out? had he had enough?  was this the last straw for him?

I looked up from the lifeless body to see Jasper walking towards me, Oliver’s shotgun in hand, a nice flesh wound evident on his shoulder from where Oliver had tagged him.  We seemed to both come to the realisation together, the offices were quiet.

We moved quickly through the dock, picking up my 38 from the floor as I ran past.  At the entrance to the meeting room, all the doors where open, ahead of us, at the entrance to the first office, Jason was down.

I reloaded my Glock and began moving with Jasper towards Jason, around his body, his shotgun, Jagger’s flash light and pistol.  What had happened here?

Asking Jasper to Cover me, I grabbed Jason by the arm, dragging him back towards the meeting room, clear of the office entrance, a large, black wound on his left shoulder revealed itself in the flickering light, as if he had been gnawed at by something.  As I did, a strange sound, something like the slurping of a semi empty milkshake through a child’s straw, only not, something grotesque, something sinister.  As I pulled Jason into the meeting room, Jasper between us and the office, I raised my eyes at the sound of his exacerbation.  A massive, almost human size Spider like creature.  It was a fucking Spider! Emerged from the office.  Jasper met it with a blast from the shotgun, sending it back slightly.  The creature charged, I loosened my grip from Jason to support my gun hand, Jasper was in the way, there was no clean shot.

The Spider launched as Jasper, its long legs swiping violently, but to no effect in this confined space, it made a horrible noise, like the screams of Lobsters in boiling water, only louder, and darker.  It launched at Jasper again, this time with its mouth.  Teeth, not pincers, teeth, almost human teeth, the flickering light catching them glistening with blood and pus.  Jasper struck back, swinging the shotgun full force at the face of this monster, this guy would have made a hell of a ball player, his swing connecting perfectly with the side of the beast’s head.  That was my queue.  I squeezed the trigger again, sending a bullet straight through on the eight eyes on this monster, again, almost human eyes.  The creature dropped, slumped to the ground, its legs curling, as most spiders do in the throes of death.

Jasper and I looked at each other, both of our expressions telling the same story, what the hell was that!

Jasper then withdrew to Jason, also observing the strange wound, he began to drag Jason back towards the loading dock.  I on the other hand stayed, walking slowly up to the beast in front of me.  Looking at it more closely, Jason had done well, at least three chunks had come of this Spider due to buckshot, unlucky that he didn’t put it down with that, this thing must have been tough.  Jasper and I must have only got the last piece.  I took aim again at the monster’s face, its lifeless eyes enough to still give me chills, I emptied my magazine into its head, whatever this thing was, it wasn’t getting back up.

Turning to Jason and Jasper, I was amazed to see Jagger standing there too, he had shaken off whatever had made him turn and run, although after the last few minutes, I can hardly blame him.  They were inspecting the wound on Jason’s shoulder, Jasper was talking about the potential risks and what Jason himself had told us to do in that situation, I pulled the hammer back on my 38, just in case they didn’t have the stomach.  Jagger was to make the call, he volunteered to call A-Cell, his conversation was brief, yet informative, he gave all the details of O-Cell, Jason’s injury and requested instructions.  All they apparently said was ‘continue’.

To our amazement, Jason stirred, Jagger’s cleaning and prepping of the wound causing him enough discomfort to wake him.  His only words were to ascertain if the monster was dead, once relieved, Jasper and I left Jagger to his work and decided to sweep the rest of the building.

Moving back to the office where all the trouble had started, I picked up Jagger’s flashlight and pistol as Jasper jammed a few more shells into his newly acquired shotgun.  Scanning the room in front of me, it was dark, the lights were out, the flickering florescence of the hallway offering little aid.  Scanning the room with the flashlight, my Jagger’s pistol raised, I stepped into the office.  In front of me, Oscar’s body, shotgun blast to the chest, Jason had dropped him, he was dead before he hit the floor.  I scanned his body with the light, his eyes were missing, bloody holes with slightly black scorching around the lids, not unlike the wound on Jason.  Dropping to my haunches, illuminating his eyes, there was nothing behind them, just an empty skull.  The sickening feeling of the slurping sound came back in my ears, had that monster sucked out the contents?

Colt Python 357

Patting down Oscar, his Colt Python 357 was still in his holster, in the small of his back, another revolver, a Smith and Wesson model 60, not unlike my 38 tucked away out of sight.  I relieved him of them both, clearly, he had no need for them anymore.

Smith and Wesson Model 60

I continued my sweep of the room, Jasper constantly on guard with his shotgun, his arm however causing his weapon to shake, Jagger really needed to look at it.  In the centre of the room, what can only be described as skin covered in blood, bile and muck, a pile of it lay splattered on the concrete floor.  The only indication that this was once a woman, the long dark hair attached to parts of what used to be a scalp.  I felt the vomit in my throat, this was truly horrific.   Satisfied that the room was clear, we moved to the rest of the Green Box with rather uneventful results, all clear.

Returning the Jagger and Jason, who was already on his feet and looking at the shrivelling remains of the monster that had attacked him, we began tearing the green box apart for fuel, it was time to burn this place down.  Jason dispatched Jagger in search of O-Cell’s vehicle, if nothing else, they may have some gas.  The car and truck both had empty fuel tanks, it was Jasper who suggested the Russian Surplus grenade, something to really destroy this monster properly.

After about an hour of reliving the events in our heads, Jagger returned in a mid-sized white van, I opened the back to see four ‘Go-Bags’, each containing the credentials of O-Cell.  Two were Philly FBI, Oscar and Ophelia, this only confirmed my suspicions that they were in some form of relationship, Oswald, Border Patrol and Oliver, NYPD.  Next to the bags was a second SPAS-12 shotgun, these guys were prepared.  Prompting my memory, I moved to the washroom, removing both mine and Jagger’s ID’s, I wanted to see who he was, but left the bag sealed, it was not my place to question the man who had patched us all up.

Jagger emerged carrying two can of fuel, Jasper and Jason begun their sweep of the building, removing anything of use from the shelving used by Delta Green, books, maps, anything useful.  Jasper pulled the Russian grenade from the shelf and jammed it under the monster, when this place burnt, that was going to blow.  We moved O-Cell rather unceremoniously into the truck, using one of the gas cans to get it running.  As we exited the Green Box, now void of anything Delta Green related, we lit the fire.

We drew out a plan, Jagger and I were to drive the truck, Jasper in the van and Jason leading in his car.  We were headed somewhere to remove the evidence of the bodies.  Something we were all not too comfortable doing.  There was a lake, a deep lake, not too far from Albany, I was too tired to notice the name, I had popped several staples from my chest, only evident to me know that my adrenaline levels had returned to normal.  We drove to the edge of the water, all of us keeping a watchful eye for any signs of life.  Weighting the gas pedal, we sent the truck into the water, the light of dawn creeping over the trees as the 1 tonne truck disappeared beneath the icy water.

Jason’s suggestion, we would create our own green box, we certainly had enough to do so, I had in my possession now half a dozen handguns, as a group, four shotguns and a pile of books and miscellaneous Delta Green material, we couldn’t carry it with us, we needed somewhere to stash it.  Everything went in the trunk of Jason’s car, O-Cell go bags, all our equipment, everything, he told us he would take care of it.

The Airport couldn’t come soon enough, at the terminal, Jagger made his way off to his gate, I did the same, however it was Jasper who drew the short straw, Jason had requested a fishing trip.  Looking at Jasper as the least likely to act without reason, Jason needed someone to watch over him for a week or so, he needed to know he would be alright after the attack of whatever it was that bit him.  Merry Christmas Jasper.

How was I going to explain this, last time I went home, I had a bruise the size of a watermelon on my chest.  This time, my chest has been cut to ribbons, hey Charlie, I heard chicks dig scars.

Session 04 (Agent Jason)

Morning Dew Caravan Park, Catskills Mountains

A stabbing pain in his shoulder and chest woke Jason up. He rolled over and tried to get comfortable on the thin mattress of the 'bed'. In the dim light of the bare, low-wattage bulb he could see the shape of Jasper on the other side of the caravan.
Jason stared at the ceiling, marked with water stains. The musty smell of this piece of junk was starting to get on his nerves.

He listened to Jasper's soft snore for a while, then sat up and inspected the wound. Still black. It seemed to be healing, but a large part of it was still the same colour as when he received the wound.

He got up and silently moved through the caravan, reaching over for the bottle of vodka. While he did this, the door creaked open, and Norman stepped inside.

"One can always count on you to smell the booze..."

Jason reached and grabbed another glass.

"Sit down and keep quiet, he's asleep and i don't want him to wake up". 

Jason gestured to the little sitting area and put the bottle and glasses on the dirty and cracked yellow Formica tabletop.

"What do you want?"

"Hey, pal, that's no way to welcome your old friend. Word is that you got wounded, so I thought I'd come over and check up on you. Brought some grapes, but I ate them all on the way over here." 

Norman looked around for a few moments.

"Nice, pal... very stylish. Did you decorate it yourself?"

Jason ignored him and stared outside, into the darkness.

"So... something bit you? Something nasty?"

He ran his hand through his graying hair and nodded.

"And you and your merry bunch wiped out O-cell. I'm sure Adolf won't be too pleased about that..."

"I had no choice, Norman. We arrived there and the lock had been cut. I had a sick and a wounded agent in the back. I told them to bring up the rear while Jasper and I took point with the shotguns. When we came through the door the whole thing started off badly, them drawing on us, us refusing to drop our weapons. It was clear they were in a bad shape as well, and it was even more clear that this Oliver character was far gone. He booted Jude to the ground straight away and anything could have tipped him over the edge and turn Jude into a new coat of paint..."

"Well,.. from what I heard last, that would have been a good thing, no?"

Norman chuckled as Jason ignored him.

"Okay... so, why didn't you just defuse the situation by dropping your guns? After all, they were Delta too, no?"

"I know... I just felt that with at least me covering their cell leader, we had some kind of control in the situation. That guy wasn't going to to lower his gun anyway."

Jason lit a cigarette and took a decent swig of the vodka.

"Something didn't feel right. The cell-leader, Oscar, had said there was someone else in the back, wounded. He just seemed shifty about it. It took us a while, but in the end I got him to allow Jagger to see her."

Another long drag and swig.

"Anyway.. .long story short, Jagger came back after a while and I could tell from the way he looked something was wrong. I tried to get them to tell us what had happened, but Oliver went all regulations on me..."

"And we all know you hate regulations, right?"

Jason ignored him and continued.

"... which I would normally accept but in this case I had my cell in there with them, so it was something that concerned us. I went in with Jagger and Oscar to check on the wounded Ophelia, after exchanging a look with Jude and Jasper. They understood what I meant, things could go nasty really quickly."

Jason fell silent for a second when Jasper mumbled something and rolled over. He finished off his glass of vodka and turned back to Norman.

"From what I heard from Jagger, Ophelia was heavily pregnant. But hadn't been the day before. When I pointed out to Oscar that this just wasn't possible, he refused to see reason. He didn't want us near her. I told him he had to sort his own mess out, and that's where it got nasty. He pulled his gun..."

"And you blew him away. Wow. Alright, well, at least the kids know now not to fuck about with Uncle Jason, I guess. So... I gather it went Reservoir Dogs really quickly then?"

"Yeah... shots were fired in the garage and uhm... Jagger and I looked back inside for Ophelia, who was now dangling from the ceiling on spiders legs, shedding her human skin. Jagger couldn't take it and ran off. Not that I blame him..."

"And you went Clint Eastwood on the bitch? Looks like she got at least one in..."

"Yeah. I have no clue what that thing was, Norm. But I shot it twice up close, then it bit me, and i squeezed off another shot, and everything went black. I woke up some time later, the others had put the thing down, as well as Oliver and the wounded guy, Oswald."

"Sounds like they saved your bacon. So you're all one big happy family now? That why you treated one of them on a weekend to a luxury retreat? Or is he keeping an eye on you in case you go Goldblum? Yeah... that's what I thought. Good call though."

Norman got up.

"I'd love to chat a bit more, but I've got places to be and you've got...," he gestured about "... other things to do or whatever... always great catching up with you, pal. Just ehh..." He walked towards the door and opened it "... give them some slack. i know you and me never got to that part really, but I should have. Just so you know."

"Hey, Norman... What does Lazarus mean to you?"

"You know I never did well at Sunday school... but I guess it was something about a guy who died and was raised from the dead or something? Bit like you, no? Why, you thinking to transfer to L-Cell?"

"Never mind..."

The door closed silently behind him and Jason lit another cigarette while he watched Norman's form being swallowed by the darkness outside.
He turned around and looked at the filthy interior of the caravan, with its grimy windows. He put the cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray and looked at the two glasses, one empty, one full. Jason took a deep breath and let out silent sigh, and emptied the glass in one go.

3 weeks later.

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

"... so what do you think, Dad?"

Jason, leaning heavily on his cane, nodded.

"Dad? I asked what you think about me studying art when I finish."

He snapped out of it and gave his daughter a smile.

"Sorry Emily, I'm just a bit tired. I think I should sit down for a bit. You go ahead and have a look in the next few halls and come and get me. We'll do the other areas together and get something to eat afterwards..."

His daughter nodded and walked off, examining a few of the paintings a bit further of.

Jason let out a sigh and he sat down. His leg was aching, as it usually did in this weather, and his recent wound was still sore.

He watched her as she moved from painting to painting. He was happy he had made time for this, they needed to be together more often. He had missed Christmas because of his research on the Skoptsi and Magna Mater. 

It wasn't until he had faced that thing in the green box that he had realized that.  In a fraction of a second, when the thing came was hanging from the ceiling, shedding its human skin, all he could think of was Emily, and how this thing could take her over, like it had taken Ophelia over.

Unless someone stopped it.

Unless he stopped it. 

He looked over and saw her move into the adjacent hall, but his gaze was fixed upon her shadow, which looked like thin, long legs, like that...

He snapped out of it and blinked a few times. It was gone now. He took a deep breath and looked at the brochure he was holding.

"The William Blake exhibition presents more than 175 works drawn from public and private collections in Britain, the United States, and Australia"

He looked around, his eyes falling upon a large painting in a corner. He limped over to it and sat down opposite it.

After what could have been hours or seconds, he heard a voice behind him.

"Couldn't you pick something a bit less depressing to look at?"

It took him a few moments to reply.

"Don't you think it's strange, Nancy, that I didn't see the woman until now? All I saw was that thing standing over her..."

The woman sat down next to him, and looked at the painting.

"I guess we all see what we want to see. Or what we need to see... I heard about what happened."

Jason nodded.

"It was a bad position to be in, Jason. But I think it was harder for Oscar. Imagine it was our cell. That it was me instead of Ophelia. We both know that something like that could have happened that night."

Jason didn't reply and swallowed.

"What if our cell would have made it back, and it was Norman laying there, bleeding out, and me in that back room. Would you have handed me over to some other cell that came barging through the door? Would you have shot me?"

His shoulders sagged.

"I don't think you would have. Norman, yeah, I reckon you would have shot him. But I don't believe  you could have killed me. Not until it would have been too late. So let go of it. You did the right thing, and your cell did too. I know you know they saved you there. Let go of it. You've got a good group there. Jagger took it upon himself to contact A-cell. Jude and Jasper did what they had to in the garage. You heard Jasper, he would have taken you out if there was any doubt, just like you expect them to. Open up to them. Connect with them. Because in the end, it's only them you can truly talk to when the nightmares come..."

"I can't, Nancy. Not after what happened to us. I'm doing the job. Because someone has to. Because I'm good at it. And because I don't give a fuck about pulling the trigger. But let me tell you this: we were sent on a mission to clean up. The usual "make it disappear" job after an agent dies. Nothing out of the ordinary in the briefing, about doubts, or misgivings. When we got to the bottom the former agent had somehow used... magic... to raise his dead wife. Or possessed her corpse with something. That thing almost killed Jude."

"Things like that happen, Jason..."

"I know they do. But the operation was called Lazarus. Like "Raised from the fucking dead"- Lazarus. That's what they called the Op."

Jason looked over and saw his daughter walk into the hall, looking for him. He got up.

"I think they knew... And we were given no warning..."

Session 03 (Agent Jason)

Jason leaned back into the passenger seat. He watched the snow falling outside the window while Jasper drove the car.
He pulled the hood of his fleece jumper up, shivering for a moment, although he wasn't sure it was the temperature. He glanced out of the corner of his eyes, observing Jasper as he was driving. The man didn't seem too shaken. Or he was good at hiding it.
Jason lit a cigarette and looked in the rear view mirror at Jude and Jagger. The medic was checking Jude's bandage, where a few small bloodstains were appearing, before zipping his jacket up again.

"All good, Jagger?"

The Englishman nodded. Jason took a big drag from his cigarette and stared at the gloved hand holding it. He went over a number of things in his head. Some of them clicked into place, but there were a few nagging details he didn't like. Not at all.
He watched the little hula dancer shake back and forth on the dashboard and started talking. As much to himself as to the others.

"This is why we have a rule in place not to use medieval metaphysics and hypergeometry. Or whatever they want to call it in newfangled pseudo-scientific terms... I just call it magic. This is also the reason why you report any works that may contain these... spells... or...  rituals. You don't dabble in it. Period. That way you can never be tempted to try it out. I'm sure Clyde meant no harm. The guy was heartbroken when his wife passed away. He probably thought it would all be OK. None would ever find out. I guess the spell didn't work the way he expected it to be. Or there were side effects. Who knows. There must have been a reason he locked her up in there."

Jason looked to the right, out of the window.

"He should have called it in. Faced the music. Management doesn't look kindly upon these practices. But at least he would have eliminated the threat he had created."

Jason chuckled  He could imagine how Norman would have reacted to this... He could just have explained it a bit better in the note. 'Hi guys. thanks for coming to wipe my arse. Much appreciated. Oh by the way, I raised my late wife from the dead. Didn't really work out the way I thought it would. Please be careful when you torch the evil bitch and don't open the hatch unless you're ready for her. Kind regards, Clyde' 

He flicked the cigarette out of the window and lit a fresh one. He looked in the mirror again at Jude. Looked like the painkillers Jagger had given him had kicked in. The guy has done well. Jason didn't think he would have been able to go toe to toe with that thing as long as Jude had. That's twice the guy got wounded on an Op. Not a good way to settle in.

Jagger had pulled his weight properly as well. When Jason ran back to the car to get the knife, he thought Jude was a goner. He had little hope for Jagger to do something, seeing the way he was since he ate those won tons earlier, but amazingly, he had been able to get Jagger to realize the seriousness of the situation and the medic had apparently been able to stop the bleeding and patch Jude up in record time.

He hoped the guys would get a bit of downtime before the next Night at the Opera. Absorb some of this shit. When they had their talk over lunch it was clear their expectations and the reality of Delta Green were not one and the same. Yeah... been there, done that, bought a few T-shirts.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, taking a few deep breaths. When he looked back again, Jagger and Jude were asleep.

He looked over at Jasper.

"If you're worried about what happened back there, don't be. This kind of stuff should unsettle you. You lost the rifle, but you stood your ground. In the end we took that thing out, That's all that matters."

Jason closed his eyes and slowly drifted away.

He woke up, some time later, when he felt the rhythm of the car change. He looked out, noticing they were off the main road and closer to the green box. He rubbed his eyes as Jasper maneuvered the car to the rear of the green box. The guys in the back were awake as well.

As Jasper turned the engine off, Jason saw the cut lock laying on the ground, at the backdoor.

"Balaclavas on and let's be quiet. we're not taking any risks..."

Session 03 (Agent Jude)

Operation Lazarus

The week leading up to Christmas was chaos, I spent most of my time at my desk, it had been a month since the events of the Russian Orthodox engagement, a month of silence and boredom.

I left the office Christmas Eve, spent the evening with Charlie, she could tell something was off, I was drinking more than usual, even for Christmas.  The red wine vanished quickly, so did the evening, my memory of it, sketchy at best, my strongest memory, waking up in her bed.

Christmas was lonely, I went to my cabin, two Shipping Containers I had turned into a small homestead, all my equipment was in order, none more attractive than the three bottles of Wild Turkey waiting on the shelves.  Revisiting my private survival stash always seemed to calm me down, field stripping and cleaning weapons and gear always seemed to take my mind off things.  Although tedious, it prepared me for the evening at the local fun house.  Christmas Strippers, always fun.

Short notice again, another communication from the Group. I was to make my way to Albany in New York State, more trouble brewing. I was keen to have my questions answered; was this going to do that for me?  Either way, I was in need of the action.

The weather here is shit...

The flight to Albany was fine, again, the weather here is shit, cold and bitter. I had adjusted my “Go Bag” to include warmer attire, tactical gloves and slouchy beanie now permanently residing within.  I landed without complication and made my way to the agreed meeting site, the Rental car booths. Pulling up short, I spotted Jasper moving in the same direction. We were both early and decided to sit at a nearby café for a coffee, within a few moments we were joined by Jagger, the three of us shaking hands. To my surprise, Jagger’s hands were clear of blisters and boils, a vast improvement, instead he now seemed to be fighting off a cold.

Jason also joined us, all gripping our coffee in the cold, we made our way to Jason’s familiar car, still as dismal as ever, only it was my turn to sit up front with him.  The words exchanged in the car were few, however it was clear we all had questions that had been unanswered after the previous operation.

Our first port of call, the USPS at Latham, a small suburb on the outskirts of Albany. We needed to pick up a package, Jason wanted someone with break and enter skills, jumping at the chance to do anything, I volunteered.  Jasper and Jagger stayed in the car, Jason and I hit the post office, light traffic as most people were in and out quickly after doing their late Christmas deliveries and pickups.  Jason pointed to the PO Box, 2432, standing in front of the camera, Jason motioned for me to open it. I jammed my boot knife into the seam near the lock, to my surprise, it flung open easily, removing the contents, a large folder type parcel. I handed it to Jason before we returned to the car.  If it was anything like the last folder, I didn’t want anything to do with it.

The drive was slow and cold, minimal talking in this beat up car with bad heating. Jasper tried to lighten the mood, but Jagger’s constant groaning made it hard not to feel slightly uncomfortable.

The Golden House Chinese restaurant

We stopped at ‘The Golden House’ Chinese restaurant, we were all in need of a feed as we landed at noon and 1pm was closing in on this ice box of a state.  As we ordered, Jason took the opportunity to go over everything from the last op.  

He informed us that all communications, even the ones between ourselves were all monitored, eyes of A-Cell or management were always present, nothing was secret unless spoken directly, face to face.  Jason also expressed his sympathies, as our previous operation was deemed not for suitable for Friendlies, a fully hardened Cell should have been deployed, as a result, our success was unexpected.  As this was an operation instigated by Clove, our agency prospects within the Group were not complete but certainly coming, all due to our success. We were on the radar of the Group previously, now we were under serious consideration.

As a result of the communications post operation, Jagger had requested combat training, something the Group did not provide, or any training for that matter. I again volunteered, opting to take him through some of the ropes. He had claimed to have been in Desert Storm, hopefully he was just rusty and not lying about that.

Jason informed us he had received a call from Alfonse, an A-Cell alias, the agent in charge of A-Cell from the sounds of it.  This was the first time Jason had been contacted by A-Cell directly, congratulating us on a successful mission and informing us that measures have been taken that a repeat situation would not occur.  

Jason's last point was to do with personal property. I knew what he was talking about. He wanted me to relinquish my vest, the vest that had saved my life at the cabin. I was reluctant, but I understood, it did after all have my name in it somewhere.

Jagger seemed to be the only one eating with any sort of enthusiasm as Jason filled us in on our next op.  A former agent, a Clyde Baughman, had passed away four days ago. It was our task to clean up, his apartment was to be emptied of all Group documents or evidence, a simple fire sale job, everything must go. Baughman was active in the 60s and 70s. recently retires but working casually as a friendly, IRS background so paperwork was key, lots of paperwork.  He was located in Troy, just outside Albany, this should be a quick job.

Jagger excused himself from the table as Jason turned his attention to the post pack we had pulled from the post office.  Emptying it on the table, there were three Cell phones, each labelled with a name, Jagger, Jasper and Jude, these were our agency phones, only to contact each other and A-Cell in dire need.  Fake ID’s, mine was George Ryan, Vancouver resident.

There was a file with a key attached. The file was on Clyde Baughman and most likely his apartment key. Another key, a padlock key, also fell out of the package, a strange key chain, a green square clanging on the table.  A stack of cash too, $500 each when we counted it, enough to get us going on the fly with anything we might need.

We concluded the lunch meeting to find Jagger still in the washroom, again volunteering for punishment, I found him bent over, white as a sheet, all his lunch now in the toilet bowl.  Picking him up, he was a mess, poor bastard was really ill, obviously as unexpected to him as the rest of us.

Throwing him in the back of the car, he assured us he would be alright, reluctantly Jason agreed to keep him with us, Jagger opening his medical bag and downing all manner of pills.  Who knows, it might all be over in an hour, at least we hope.

We were to drive to the Albany Green Box, prep for the upcoming op, even though supposedly a cake walk, it never hurt to be prepared.  Jason also informed us that he had retained possession of a few things from the last mission, mainly hardware, the shotguns and pistols were in the trunk.  The Green box itself, another vacant building in an industrial area, an old mechanic workshop, long abandoned.  Using the padlock key, the green square, or box, a dead giveaway.

SKS 7.62x39

Entering, it was a mechanics workshop, tools on shelves, a beat up stripped car, an empty truck also locked, although a key hidden in the wheel well.  Empty, nothing here, it was Jasper who first saw it, a single floor to ceiling shelving unit, this was the jackpot.  Again, books, Jason’s specialty, strangely, there were airport security uniforms, something must have gone down there previously, drugs, one labelled sodium pentathol, truth serum, I couldn’t resist, pocketing it, a trauma kit and of course, firearms.  A Smith and Wesson 586, perfect for Jagger in my opinion, he can finally put his scalpel away.  I grabbed it to give to him since he was still in the car, after all, my Glock was still in Jason’s trunk, an SKS rifle also rested on a shelf, without hesitation, Jasper grabbed it and the crowbar sitting next to it, he was after the axe man.  What was odd, an old surplus Russian grenade, Jasper and I looked at each other, both agreeing to leave it well alone.

Smith & Wesson 586

I ditched my personal belongings again, bagging them and hiding them in the cistern of the toilet along with those belonging to Jagger, we were on the road again, on our way to the apartment of Clyde Baughman.

It was about 3pm when we arrived, the only thing out of the ordinary was Jagger, still white as a ghost, dry heaving every five minutes. Poor bastard is all I could think.  Jasper, Jason and I all scouted the building, an old 60s apartment complex, four storeys high, fire escapes and large glass front and back doors, this was a white-collar neighborhood, nothing was to say otherwise, everything seemed normal, it was Christmas after all.

Night would come around 5pm, we decided to find a rally point in case of emergency, a block away, a large park, good enough for a simple clean-up operation.

As darkness fell, again Jagger remained in the car, semi passed out as he had been popping pills all day.  I took the back entrance of the building, Jasper and Jason the front, we met in the foyer, apartment 5, first floor.  We made our way up as casually as we could, Jason opening the door to the apartment with the key from the file.

Baughman's Apartment

We began our search, closing the curtains and using our flash lights, we moved room to room, Jasper taking the lead.  The apartment was scare, the lounge room contained no more than a couch, TV and table, the kitchen again basic.  Bathroom barely used, Bedroom again blank.  The spare room however, stacks upon stacks of paperwork, 4-foot-high piles of folders, loose notes and archive boxes.

Once satisfied the apartment was clear, we all took a room, in the lounge room, I pulled everything apart, the only thing of significance, a Colt Detective Special in between the cushions of the lounge, the serial number filed off, thank you very much Clyde.

It was Jason’s turn to shine.  After reviewing the stack of paperwork in front of us, he seemed to have some idea of what he was looking at, semi ordered and organised bundles of IRS paperwork, it was going to take a while, at least 3-4 hours.  I decided to go back downstairs and tell Jagger that we were going to be here a while, after trying to call his phone a few times with no response, I was off.
  
I found him asleep across the back of the car, he was dead to the world, I scribbled a not for him and threw it in, he would get the message.  On my return into the building, I stopped off at the mailbox of Clyde Baughman, as I did, an elderly woman with her dog came down the stairs.  She announced herself as Clyde’s neighbour, I had no choice but to remember the file of Mr Baughman, he had a son Michael, I took his identity.  This woman was sympathetic as to the passing of Baughman, explaining that it was so sad.  Once she had exited the building, I called up to Jason to confirm the encounter, watching her walk her dog in the freezing cold, it was only that the dog needed to relieve itself that she had left the apartment.

Colt Detective Special 38

Satisfied everything was clear, I returned to the room with the scraps of mail, it had become evident to Jason and Jasper that Clyde owned a Cabin near Tupper Lake, a good 3 and a half hours away, a key to the cabin residing on the hanger near the front door, along with paperwork amongst the rest.  Jason helped himself, taking the Cabin key and what looked like an extra pair of padlock keys labelled cabin also.

We began our long sorting process, 9pm rolled around before we could be certain there was nothing here relevant to the Group.  The cabin was to be the next stop.  Still unconvinced as to the motivations of Mrs Janowitz, Clyde’s neighbor, I decided to knock on her door for a quick chat before leaving.  Jason and Jasper returned to the car as I sat down for a cup of tea in number 6.  Within 5 minutes it was clear there was nothing more sinister at work here, just a concerned neighbor.

Satisfied I joined the others in the car, Jagger clearly had been told off for falling asleep by Jason, his colour slightly returning, but he was still showing signs of sickness.

The drive was going to be long and cold, Jason decided to go over with us what he had found out from the previous operation, the Russian Iconography, the religious cult, something about an ancient Roman Deity, supposedly wiped out under Stalin, I guess he missed a few.  Catching up on some sleep, we arrived at Piercefield just outside Tupper Lake, Jasper, in possession of the best geographical skills identified the location of the cabin, a private road out of town surrounded by woods, the cabin was down there somewhere.  The woods, just what we needed, another trap infested landscape with mangy dogs and god knows what.

As there was no cause for alarm, we decided to drive up the private road, a few miles in, a sharp bend, the cabin lay in front of us.  Turning the lights off, again Jagger stayed in the car, Jasper Jason and I moving to arm ourselves.  Jasper grabbed the SKS rifle he had taken from the green box, he was also brandishing a revolver, another Smith and Wesson, looked to be a 4’’ 586, I inquired and he told me he picked it up at a gun show; he wanted his own sidearm.  I understood that better than most. Jason took the Ithica shotgun full of buckshot, leaving me the Remington loaded with slugs. I felt pretty good, my Glock holstered under my arm, my Colt in the back of my belt and carrying a shotgun, my lack of vest apparent, however I still felt better equipped than last time.

Looking over the cabin, to the side, a small outhouse stood some 10 yards from the house, another 10 yards away a shed stood against the tree line, all we needed now where some crazy Russians and we would all be having flashbacks.

As there was not a large amount of ground between buildings, Jasper was to go to the shed, myself, the outhouse and Jason would remain on the porch of the Cabin, a quick search revealed nothing more than a toilet in the small shack, I joined Jasper who had pried the lock off the shed door, a few tools littered the ground, on one wall, 20 or so gasoline cans, all full to the brim. Clyde must have been ready to burn down the town.

Baughman's Cabin

All quiet we re-joined Jason at the Cabin, it was dark, quiet and off putting.  Looking around the Cabin it was Jason who suggested a window entry, if this was the cabin of an agent, it was most likely booby trapped, the door was never going to be a good idea.  Jasper took the lead, his previous window breaking prowess working in his favour with the crowbar, I boosted him in.  A few moments later he suggested we all enter through the window, something was just not right here.  I boosted Jason up who in turn gave me a hand.  The window was at waist height once inside, the thick rock base of the cabin making it 6 feet off the ground from the exterior.

Another sparsely furnished dwelling, Jason refused to turn the lights on, seeing no signs of traps, we agreed the electrical works were the next best way to burn the place down to an unknowing trespasser.  We began our search, again turning up little more than the basics for rustic living, all but Jason, pulling a large footlocker from under the bed.

As Jason pulled the footlocker out, Jasper called out that the plumbing in the bathroom was out, no septic activity, it seemed strange that there was an outhouse and an interior toilet, the kitchen had running water, also separate as the water ran, an electrical pump sounded, something was not right here.

Jason opened the footlocker to reveal a note perched atop of the items within. I read it aloud, its instructions simple, pour all the gasoline in the shed into the septic tank and burn it, don't tell his family. This was his final unfinished Opera.  Under the note, more books on strange occult nonsense, a large, old, bone handled knife, covered in engravings, a leather pouch of feathers, fingernails and teeth, and assorted other items relating to what looked like American Indian ceremony. A selection of reel to reel tapes also resided in the locker, accompanied by a large folder branded FBI; interesting considering Clyde worked for the IRS.  What took my eye was a small glass orb, magnetised to the metal interior of the locker, glass wasn’t magnetic. Strange.

We all looked at each other and agreed the locker was to go in the car's trunk, we needed to find the septic tank Clyde had mentioned in the letter.

Jason and Jasper hauled the locker into the trunk as I looked around the grounds.  About 10 feet behind the house, the ground sunk into a four-meter-wide pit, a manhole of steel in the middle, padlocked and silent.  Before we went near it, Jason gave us the lead, we began hauling every gas can towards the pit, no time for games, just pour and burn, that was the plan.
  

Once all of the cans were ready, Jason, Jasper and approached the manhole, Jason fiddled with the keys he had taken labelled Cabin until the lock popped open.  Cracking the hinged steel cover, sounds of water, metal and sloshing filled the air, to our shock, a woman’s voice sounded from within, asking for Clyde.

Jasper looked the most shocked, his initial reaction was to investigate, I can’t say I blame him, this was all wrong, Jason cleared the air, the file on Clyde stated his wife died 15 years ago, this woman, claiming to be her was not real.  Not wanting to open the cover, I returned to the shed to find a large auto funnel, returning to the pit, I jammed it into the broken seal of the tank.  Jason placed his foot on top of the cover, his shotgun pointed at it, Jasper took a slightly wider birth, a few feet back, his SKS rifle aimed at the small opening.

There we were, Jason to my left, Jasper to my right, and me, pouring gasoline into the septic tank through a funnel.  As the first can ran dry, more calls from within begging us to stop, the second and third cans yielded the same result, only the voice now sounded more annoyed than desperate.

I picked up the fourth can and got back on my haunches to begin pouring, that’s when it all went south.  A loud clang as I was flung back to the ground, Jason was also knocked back off the lid of the tank and the manhole hurled open, yet able to keep his feet.  Two waterlogged and grotesque hands gripped the edge of the manhole, followed by the face of an old woman, skin drooping in places, in others bones and teeth protruding.  Jasper let his SKS loose, firing off shots as the woman launched into the air, the sound of bullets bouncing all around the interior steel of the septic tank echoing out. 

Marlene Baughman

The woman landed, one foot on either side of me, her hands bearing down on my chest and face, her fingernails black and sharp, like the claws of a grizzly under threat, her eyes dark and full of hate.  I was defenseless, lying on my back, my pistols holstered, my shotgun a foot away from me. She began clawing violently.  Negating her blows and returning some of my own, to little effect, Jason let fly with his shotgun, a piece of buckshot blowing the matted hair of the woman across her shoulders as if so close the air of the shot had acted like a strong wind.

Distracting her momentarily, I seized my chance and let go with a left handed hook, pounding her in the jaw. I think my fist was more affected than her however, sending her back a moment, I scuttled out from under her as fast as I could.  Looking at the others, Jason had taken off back towards the car. I didn’t know if he had a plan or if he was petrified, either way he couldn’t help me now.

Jasper stepped in and swung hard with the butt of his rifle, as if knowing the attack was coming, the woman swiped at him, thankfully missing him but collecting his rifle, sending it sliding across the ground and falling directly into the septic tank. Jasper recoiled slightly, the woman returning her attention to me and lunging again, this time, her claws slicing my chest open in four long gouges, before I could beat her arms away.

The sound of metal sounded as Jasper pulled a large machete from his belt, something he had hidden from us in the green box, at this point I didn’t care, I just needed him to get this thing away from me.  It worked, the woman turned to him as he struck, slicing flesh from her arm.  A he struck I could see that even though he had cleaved her open, the uncut skin drooped and came away from the bone, leaving nothing between her forearms and shoulder but the bone, and yet she still continued to strike back at him.  As Jasper fought on, I searched around me, my hand coming to rest on my shotgun.

Bleeding and in pain, the adrenaline kicked in, I leveled the shotgun at the woman’s torso, what little there was concealing her rib cage, the moment came, she swiped at Jasper who dodged and struck, forcing her back enough for me to squeeze the trigger.  The slug lifted her off the ground, yet she didn’t fall, looking only more violent, she launched once more at Jasper.  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jason running back towards us, the large engraved knife from the footlocker in his hand.  It was too late, I let off another blast, again collecting the woman in the chest, this time, she staggered and recoiled.  Setting herself, she leaped into the air above us, towards the tree line, she was trying to make her escape.  I rolled on my stomach as Jasper un-holstered his revolver and fired, his shot sending a chunk of the woman’s shoulder to the ground as she landed.  Again I fired with the shotgun, the slug again hitting its mark, it slammed into her back, sending her to the ground.

The old knife

Jason had not slowed down, he was running for the woman, he leapt with greater agility than I expected for a man of his age, plunging the knife into the chest of the woman who was still convulsing.  Something had grabbed me, I was rolled over onto my back to see Jagger, his medical bag in hand.  Jasper was also there, his gaze never leaving Jason and the woman, his revolver steady in his hands pointed at them.

The staples were rough, not as rough as the claws but I counted at least 20 snaps, they stopped hurting after the first four, the antiseptic was the worst, it felt like fire on my skin, the adrenalin still coursing through me, I passed the shotgun to Jagger we both moved to where Jason was calling for help.  Jasper had begun backing the lids off the gas cans and throwing them in the tank.

Jason grabbed the woman by the right leg, I grabbed the left, whatever skin used to be there was gone, now, only bones, we dragged her still twitching corpse towards the manhole, Jason still clutching the knife with his free hand.  At the lip of the manhole, I collapsed, my chest burning, Jasper took hold of the woman with both hands and flung her down the hole, Jason losing his grip on his knife, it also being swallowed by the darkness below.  Jagger began hauling me away from the tank as Jason flicked open his Zippo, Jasper closed the lid of the manhole until only a slither remained, enough for Jason to throw his lit lighter in, jamming the padlock, although not locked, the curved bar through the loop, enough to stop the lid blowing off as the fire took control.

My consciousness fading, all I saw was thick black smoke, screaming from a chilling woman’s voice and Jasper calling out, his profanity fitting to the situation.  This fire would burn for hours, every now and then, the explosion of another gasoline can sending a fresh bloom of bright fire light across the tank entrance.

The padlock on the door had been cut...

It was time to go, Jagger, who now seemed almost back to his normal self, aided me into the back of the car, Jasper took the wheel while Jason, predictably, took a cigarette.  I passed out, my chest burning, my head pounding, only dreams of that woman clawing at me filled my head.

I woke to see we were back at the green box in Albany, Jason and Jasper both with drawn pistols, the padlock on the door had been cut, lying silently on the ground.