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The AdvAnTAGE Project: The Crimson Field

By Mantrid Brizon

(10/27/2021)

Listening to the pelting of the rain, which strikes so loudly to the metal roof of their farmhouse, Caleb Hanson sits in the living room and waits. He hopes the rain will be done before dark, as there’s only a few more days left to harvest, and his old tractor doesn’t have an enclosed cabin; he’d prefer not to catch his death of cold. Margaret, his wife, sits beside him on the couch, leaning against her husband and resting her head upon his shoulder. Twenty years of marriage, and they’re still as loving and affectionate as they were during the first.

As the thunderclaps rumble the very foundation of the house, Skippy, their large mutt of a dog with somewhat long and shaggy fur, darts into the living room. He’s followed closely by Becky, their nine-year-old daughter. The little girl and her dog jump onto the couch cushion, throwing themselves into Margaret’s side.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

“Okay!” She exclaims, startled awake.

“Look at what you did. Now she’ll nag me!” Caleb teases.

“The storm is coming!”

“The storm’s already here, stupid!” Stevie, their sixteen-year-old son remarks, entering from the den.

“Don’t call me stupid!” Becky whines.

“Call it like I see it.” Stevie snaps back, a little smirk on his face.

“Alright, you two. Settle down.” Caleb says with a sigh. “It’s alright Becky. The storm is just like all of the others.”

“But it’s scary!” She whimpers.

“Yeah. It’ll pass, sweetheart.” Margaret coos, petting her daughter’s head.

“... Okay...” The young girl pouts.

Standing up on the couch, his front paws on the backrest, Skippy peers through a window. With a grumbled whimper, he cocks his head, as if he notices something strange outside.

“What’s wrong with him?” Caleb asks.

“I don’t know, dad. He’s been acting funny lately. Yesterday, I let him out in the dog run and he didn’t even go right away. He stood at the corner and barked for like an hour.” Stevie replies, leaning against the wall and peering outside.

“That is strange... I hope he’s not sick.” Margaret remarks, reaching out and petting Skippy’s head.

“It looked to me like he saw something.” Stevie adds.

“Please, God, not vermin...” Caleb sighs.

“Maybe there’s monsters outside?!” Becky shivers, hiding her eyes with her little hands.

“Better stay away from the windows, then.” Stevie flashes a sinister grin, glancing back at his little sister.

“Huh?! W-why?!” Becky gulps, peering between her fingers.

“Because... If they see ya’... They’ll eat’cha!”

“EEE!!!” Becky screams and clings to her mother’s waist.

“Stevie!” Margaret snaps.

“What?!” The teenager laughs. “I was only joking!”

Lightning flashes and the power briefly fades out, only to swiftly return. It makes no difference, however. The damage is done. Becky shivers like a leaf in a strong breeze, and Margaret glances over to her husband with a familiar look. He sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Want to sleep with us tonight? You can bring Skippy.” Caleb begrudgingly offers.

“YAY!!!” Becky happily exclaims.

“What about me?!” Stevie teases, a little smirk on his face.

“I bought you that twenty-two for your birthday. You’ll be fine.” Caleb retorts, dismissively waving a hand.

“Pfft... Whatever.”

Looking toward the corn fields which line the hundred or so acres of their farm, Stevie narrows his eyes.

“Huh...”

“Yeah. It’s called ‘corn’.” Caleb smirks.

“That’s not what I mean, dad! I saw some stalks moving, but not with the wind. Maybe we do have vermin?”

“Damn... We’ll check it out tomorrow, when we start the harvest.” Caleb replies.

“Yeah, okay... Maybe I’ll keep that twenty-two handy...” Stevie murmurs.

“Oh, are you getting scared now?!” Margaret smirks and raises an eyebrow.

“No!” Stevie defensively replies. “I just... Think we should be careful... In case the rats try to get inside.”

“Okay.” Caleb holds back a laugh.

After a little while, the storm dies down and the family make their way to bed. Though they’d made the offer, Becky takes Skippy and sleeps in her own bed, content to prove her bravery and rub it in the face of her taunting brother. The fact that it’s hardly raining anymore makes it easier for her to rest her tired eyes. The next morning, Caleb heads to Stevie’s room to rouse his son, who often oversleeps, only to discover that he’s already awake! He sits up atop his bed, which he’d already made, glancing out of a window which faces the corn fields.

Sitting atop his nightstand is the Taurus 94 revolver that Caleb had purchased for Stevie as a present for his sixteenth birthday. A box of Winchester Super-X cartridges sits beside it, opened, and he can see brass rims peeking out from the revolver’s cylinder.

“Boy, that storm really put the fear of God into you, huh?!” Caleb remarks, pointing at the loaded pistol.

“Huh?” Stevie glances back at him. “Oh, no, that wasn’t it.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know...” Stevie murmurs, returning his gaze to the window.

“People normally don’t load guns for nothing.” Caleb remarks, opening the cylinder and ejecting the nine live rounds into the palm of his hand. “What spooked ya’?”

Stevie takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, only to hang his head and cover his eyes with a hand. As he rubs his face, Caleb can see that his eldest child looks quite sleepy!

“I got up last night to take a leak and when I passed the window, I thought I saw stalks shifting... It had stopped raining by then, so I stood here and watched. Lightning flashed and I thought...”

“... Yeah?”

“I thought I saw someone.” Stevie finishes, glancing back at his dad.

“Someone?”

“Yeah. Someone small, like a kid or something. I went to check on Becky, in case she was sleepwalking or something, but her and Skippy were asleep. I wasn’t sure if it was some thief or something so I loaded it, just in case.”

“I see... And when was this?”

“I don’t know...” Stevie shrugs. “Three or four in the morning?”

“You’ve been up all night?! No wonder you look tired!”

“Does this mean I don’t have to help with the harvest?” Stevie asks, his eyes lighting up.

“... No!” Caleb smirks.

“But dad! I was guarding the family all night!” Stevie pouts.

“And we appreciate that.”

“But... But it rained last night!”

“Yeah, but if we put it off any longer, I’ll officially be as lazy as you. I’ll see you at breakfast.” Caleb replies, reaching out for his son and messing up his hair.

After eating a traditional meal of bacon, eggs and pancakes with maple syrup, Becky dances about the house and plays with Skippy, while Margaret washes the dishes and Caleb and Stevie make their way outside. They first inspect the stalks near the edge of their farmland, only to notice something strange. Right where Stevie had claimed to have seen the phantom child, there are cut marks on the stalks. At a glance, they appear to have been made by teeth, but the marks are far too big to be any animal they’re familiar with.

Looking past these outer stalks, they discover more oddities. Some have had the corn plucked, while others appear to have been tugged and stand at strange angles. Making their way to the barn, where Caleb stores the tractor, corn cart and an old harvesting trailer, Stevie notices something odd. A large hole had been dug, moving underneath the barn’s wall and serving as a simple tunnel. Scuff marks surround it. At first, Caleb had assumed that Skippy was to blame, but Stevie noted the size of the hole. It would be big enough for someone roughly Becky’s size to fit through.

Unnerved, Caleb distracted his son with chores, having him prep the tractor and attach the appropriate trailer while he busied himself walking the perimeter. It was at this point that Caleb noted something unusual. Sacks of grain feed, meant for his wife’s recently deceased mare, were missing, as was a single sack of corn feed. Taken from a far corner, hidden from view by tall bales of hay, they appear to have been dragged toward the hole and taken outside. Caleb begins to believe his son, as it’s clear that someone has robbed them.

However, they have a long day of harvesting ahead, and without cameras on his property, there’s not much to report. A phone call to the sheriff is decidedly unhelpful. With that, Caleb and his teenage son begin their work. Stevie moves the cut corn while his father pulls the tractor, only for them to finish the first of the rear rows. Caleb likes to move from the far end of the farm and toward the house. After turning and making their way back, it’s time to refuel the old tractor and hook up the cart.

“Why are we still harvesting like it’s the 1940s?” Stevie abruptly asks.

“Because our farm isn’t large and I can’t justify the cost of a combine harvester.” Caleb replies, picking up stalks of corn and setting them in the cart.

“If we had a combine harvester, we’d be so efficient you could get it all to market faster... And we wouldn’t be sweating in the cold!” Stevie retorts, a chilly, October wind blowing through and frosting their skin.

“True! ... Now do you want to help me harvest or stand there complaining?” Caleb smirks.

“Do I get paid for complaining?” Stevie grins.

“Come on.” Caleb chuckles.

Continuing with their day, they fill the cart, only to empty it near the barn, filling another trailer already attached to Caleb’s dually pickup truck. As they continue with the harvest, cutting down rows upon rows of corn stalks, the tractor suddenly jolts. It bounces hard enough to nearly knock Caleb out of the seat, only for it to turn and drive right into the corn field.

“Dad! Dad, are you alright?!” Stevie calls out.

“Yeah, yeah... Damn, that hurt. I knew I should’ve padded that seat... What the hell did I hit?!” Caleb turns back, rubbing his hindquarters.

“You drove over a hole.” Stevie replies, standing some feet away from the harvester.

“What?! I didn’t see a hole!”

“Well, I’m looking at it!” Stevie retorts.

Jumping down from the tractor’s seat and pushing his way through the broken corn stalks, he stands in the freshly cleared portion of the field. His son looks to him and points. There, behind the right rear wheel of his old tractor, they see a large hole in the ground. It’s far too big to be a prairie dog burrow or even a groundhog’s den. It’s almost as large as a manhole cover! Approaching the hole, they notice how it moves at an angle, the tunnel narrowing dramatically, almost cone shaped as it makes its way below ground. The shadows conceal the depths of the strange pit.

“How the hell did I not see that?!” Caleb gasps.

“Showing your age?” Stevie quips.

“No! ... Look... There’s some dry branches here, and corn leaves and husks... It’s almost, like...”

“I knew it!” Stevie exclaims. “I told you I saw someone last night!”

“Okay, hold on, there. First, we don’t know that some animal didn’t dig this...” Caleb begins.

“Oh, come on, dad!”

“And second, who in their right mind would hide in a hole?!”

“A dwarf?” Stevie shrugs.

After shaking his head at his son’s answer, Caleb shocks him by dropping to his knees, planting a hand on the ground and peering into the hole.

“Dad!”

“Hold on, Stevie! I’m just taking a look!”

“Okay, but if a giant mole rat gets you, then I’m going to say ‘I told you so’ right now.”

Looking into the hole, it’s too dark for Caleb to see anything. Determined to see how deep it goes, he looks for the longest stick he can find. With a reach nearly six feet, including his arm, he shoves the stick into the depths of the angular pit, only for it to bump against something soft and pliable. It suddenly shifts! Startled, Caleb drops the stick and swiftly pulls his arm out. Unwilling to look like a coward in front of his son, he quietly takes a deep breath and reaches his hand back inside, feeling around in the dark. His fingers brush something soft, something far closer than it was before.

“Whoa!” He exclaims, yanking his arm out and falling onto his butt.

“What?! What is it?!?!” Stevie jumps.

“Skippy?!” Caleb shouts into the hole. “You’d better get inside, boy!!! ... What the hell is up with this dog and digging holes?”

“Dad, I don’t think-”

“Skippy just dug a big ol’ hole, and I think the wind from those storms shoved old branches and leaves over it. Come on, Stevie. We’ve got work to do.”

“...”

Caleb is eager to return to work, but Stevie is far more concerned with the strange occurrences and odd findings. They stop for lunch after another sweep of the field and Stevie takes off, heading upstairs and straight for his room.

“What’s got into him?” Margaret asks.

“He’s just a little spooked.”

“Over what?!”

“... Nothing...” Caleb sighs.

Hearing Skippy barking, he looks over to see Becky chasing the dog in circles inside of the house. They pass behind him before making their way through the living room, into the kitchen, around the dinner table and back into the den, only to head back for the living room.

“When we’re out harvesting, you should really keep Skippy inside.” Caleb begins, watching the dog closely.

“What on earth are you talking about?! Skippy’s been inside all day. You know we don’t let him out when you’re harvesting.” Margaret says with a confused gaze.

“Oh... Right... I’ll be right back.”

A dumbfounded Margaret watches as her husband makes his way up the stairs, ignoring the lunch she’d prepared for him and her son. Passing by his son’s door, Caleb glances inside and sees Stevie standing beside his nightstand. The teen reloads his twenty-two-caliber revolver only to wear it on a cheap holster attached to his belt, along with a buck knife and a Crosman pellet pouch, which he promptly fills with extra ammo. Seeing his father standing in the door, Stevie gives him a strange look, as if both obstinate and ashamed. He keeps his weapons.

Though Caleb tells his son that it’s unnecessary, the father heads to his own bedroom and collects his Charter Arms Undercover Lite and a Ruger LCP. Deciding that the semi-automatic pistol will be easier to conceal from his son, he loads the firearms but slips the Ruger into a pocket of his jacket, only to join his son for lunch. It’s a tense meal, and both Margaret and Becky notice the weapons the teenager is carrying. His lack of levity makes it even more unsettling for Becky, who grows increasingly anxious and afraid.

When the weather begins to change, Caleb is eager to call off the harvest, if only for the moment. The sudden rain clouds allow him to mask his growing fears of whatever is out in their corn field. Waiting out another storm, the family sit together in the living room. While Becky sits on the floor with Skippy, cartoons playing on their television, both Stevie and Caleb take glances outside. Margaret notices, and while their unease troubles her, she hides it from their young daughter.

“Eee!” Becky shrieks as Skippy abruptly begins to bark.

“Skippy! Quiet!” Margaret yells at their dog, who races for the window.

Skippy barks over and over again, ignoring her stern instructions. Stevie jumps up from the couch and peers through the window, while Caleb twists his body, looking over the backrest and out the large window behind the couch.

“Do you see something, Skippy?” Stevie asks the dog.

“Bark, bark!”

“Once for yes, two for no?” Margaret asks, trying to lighten the tension.

“Not this time, hon.” Caleb murmurs.

A lightning flash briefly illuminates the field. The men can see a stalk shivering, as if being shaken at the base. Caleb grabs his jacket from the back of the couch and hastily slips it on, shoving his hand into the pocket that contains his loaded pistol.

“Take Skippy into another room and-”

Eagerly heading for the door, Stevie yanks it open before his father can finish his sentence, only for Skippy to go charging outside.

“Skippy!” Becky exclaims in horror.

The pouring rain and a thunder clap quickly drown out the dog’s barking, as it runs into the field. Matching the dog’s bravery, Stevie dashes out after him.

“Skippy! Skippy, come back here, god damn it!” The youth yells.

“Mommy! Skippy’s outside!”

“I know sweetheart!” A panicked Margaret snaps at her daughter.

“Stay inside and lock the door. If you get scared or hearing something... Check the hat box in the closet.” Caleb instructs his wife.

Margaret’s eyes widen. She knows this is where Caleb hides his two pistols.

“Hear something?! Like what?!”

“Just something...”

With his body angled, he pulls the handgun out of his pocket, so that only his wife can see. She looks thoroughly horrified, fearful of whatever might be awaiting her husband and her son. Caleb dashes off, closing the front door behind him and ignoring his wife’s pleas to bring Stevie back. He pulls a small flashlight from a pocket and races for the cornfield.

“Stevie! Stevie?! Where are you?!?!” Caleb shouts again and again.

Bang, bang, bang!

“STEVIE!!!”

Racing toward the source of the sounds, Caleb plows through the cornfield, brushing by the stalks with his arms raised before his face. The water soaks him to the very bone, but the adrenaline and sheer force of will keep him from shivering. Bang, bang! Caleb stops, turns and heads toward the new source of the gunfire. He can no longer see his house, and in his haste, he’s turned himself around until he isn’t sure which direction is which. Bang, bang, bang! He’s much closer now!

Caleb presses on, darting through the rows. The muck of the earth splashes his pantlegs as he heads toward the gunfire, his heart racing a mile a minute. He hasn’t been this afraid in his entire life. BANG! Turning toward the source, Caleb takes a few steps through the rows and nearly runs into his son, his boots sliding on the old leaves and the oozing mud.

“STEVIE!!!”

Stevie whirls around, briefly pointing the twenty-two at his dad’s face.

“Dad!” He happily exclaims, lowering the weapon.

“What are you shooting at?!”

“I don’t know! It’s small but it’s fast! I think I got it!” Stevie replies.

The youth opens the cylinder and ejects the nine empty shell casings, frantically trying to reload his gun with shaking hands. He trembles from the fear as much as he does the cold, standing in the October rain in nothing but a long-sleeved shirt, jeans and work boots. As he reloads, the teen cannot help but notice the small pistol in his dad’s hand.

“Took my advice, huh?!” Stevie grins.

“Can’t ever be too careful! Where’s Skippy?!” Caleb shouts over the sound of the pouring rain.

“I don’t know! I lost him!”

“Come on! We need to get back inside!”

“I’m not leaving Skippy out here!”

“Son!”

Before he can grab him, Stevie runs away. With revolver in-hand, the youth bolts through the cornfield, racing aimlessly through the rows of dripping stalks as he calls out the dog’s name. Caleb struggles to keep up with his son, who is far more energetic and athletic than the nearly middle-aged man. After trying to chase after Stevie, calling out his name and demanding he return to the house, Caleb loses sight of him. He stands in the field and resorts to cupping his hands over his mouth, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“STEVIE!!! STEVIE!!! WHERE ARE YOU, SON?!?!?!”

Bang. A distant shot alerts him, and Caleb makes a mad dash for the source. He quickly emerges from the cornfield, finding himself standing in the clearing that he and his son had made earlier that day. He was certain this was the direction from where the gunshot had come, but he doesn’t see anything. Moving up and down the edge of the field, he continuously calls out for his son, only to hear nothing but rain and the occasional thunderclap. Suddenly, his foot slips and Caleb nearly loses balance.

Looking down, he moves his work boot only to find that he’s stepped on Stevie’s Taurus 94 revolver. Kneeling down, Caleb’s very soul shivers. His son loves this gun; he’d never drop it in the dirt like that, nor does he believe he’d surrender it. He cannot help but think that something awful has happened to his son. Slipping the weapon into a jacket pocket, he continues his search, calling out his son’s name only to stop when he sees that he’s mere feet away from the large hole they’d discovered earlier.

“Stevie?! Son... Are you in there?” Caleb’s voice shakes.

He stares for some time, only to hear a rustling in the cornfield. Though he wonders if it could be his son, or even their missing dog, a feeling in his gut tells him otherwise. With nowhere left to search, Caleb takes a deep breath, calms his nerves and sticks his legs into the hole. He points his flashlight into the depths of the tunnel and inches his way inside, fighting down the monstrous fear that swells within him. The slimy walls and floor of the tunnel, however, conspire against him, and Caleb slides uncontrollably, following the course of gravity.

He shouts as he lands with a loud splash, falling into the freezing water that pools at the bottom of the diagonal and tapering tunnel. He slides beneath the surface, his flashlight illuminating the murky depths. Looking for a way back to the surface, he clings to his flashlight and heads upward, only to bump against waterlogged soil. His lungs already begin to burn as he panics. There must be a way out! Feeling for the surface, he winces as the fetid water burns his eyes. It’s already difficult enough to see, but now it’s nearly impossible. Moving forward, his hand breaks the surface. Precious air!

Sticking his head above the water, he gasps and pants. Wiping the putrid water from his eyes, he fights down the mild pain and examines his surroundings. The small flashlight, durable and waterproof, illuminates a horizontal corridor and not the diagonal tunnel he’d entered. He’s fallen into a water trap! He’d heard of tunnels like this being used by the Vietcong. This must’ve been built for a purpose. A familiar sound catches his attention, and turning off his flashlight, he sees a soft glow coming from around a nearby corner. A fire?!

He struggles to remain silent as he pulls himself from the water, trying not to alert whoever might be within. Staying low and moving very carefully, he checks the floor for more traps, only using his flashlight when he believes the beam will not surrender his location. He peeks around the corner and is amazed by what he finds. A man! He sits beside a small fire pit, the smoke rising and entering a small hole in the ceiling. The silhouette of the unknown person, whose back faces him, suddenly shifts.

Turning his head, Caleb can see the side of the stranger’s face. The raggedy man peers over his shoulder, eyes Caleb for a moment and then flashes a strange grin, only to casually return his attention toward whatever it is that’s roasting over the open flame. Caleb can smell the meat cooking, but it must be small, as the unassuming figure’s body blocks his view. Caleb clears his throat, but the man ignores him. He crawls a little closer, a hand holding tightly to his Ruger pistol. He has no idea what to expect, but he must be ready for anything.

“Ahem... Who are you, mister?”

“Damian.” The man suddenly speaks in a soft but shrill voice.

It’s very disarming. He sounds as meek as his figure would suggest. He can’t possibly be the cause of all of this... Could he?!

“Oh... I’m Caleb.”

Damian doesn’t respond, merely poking at whatever it is he’s cooking. A shuffling noise catches Caleb’s attention, but he cannot see into the darkness.

“Who else is here with you?”

“Just my family.” Damian replies.

“Family? ... H-how many of you are there?”

Damian doesn’t reply. He reaches for his meal and struggles with it, tearing off a piece of meat that, from the dim light of the small fire, appears barely half-cooked. Still, the stranger has no problem taking a bite. Overflowing with unease and fear, Caleb struggles to carry on. He holds his pistol close, glancing down at it and silently reminding himself that it’s more powerful than whoever this “Damian” is.

“I-I’m looking for my son. We got separated in the storm.”

Damian continues to eat his meal, ignoring the father. Somehow, his blatant disregard becomes less frightening and more disrespectful.

“Hey... Hey, I’m talking to you!” Caleb growls, becoming increasingly irate.

Crawling around the figure, he grabs onto Damian’s arm with the hand that holds the flashlight, only to gasp. The beam of light reveals that Damian’s meal is none other than Skippy! With his abdomen cut open and organs removed, the furriest member of his family is skewered on a large stick, his hair black and charred as he’s roasted over the open fire. The meat that Damian ingests is one of the poor dog’s legs, which he’d ripped off with his bare hands! Shrieking in terror, Caleb falls backward, briefly dropping his flashlight.

Damian returns to his meal, ignoring Caleb as he scrambles to collect his only portable light source. Just as he does, he hears a series of strange noises. They’re familiar sounds, like the ripping of cloth. Bringing up his flashlight, he stares in horror. Only feet away, just beyond the fire pit and opposite Damian, his teenage son lies dead, his clothing ripped to shreds. With eyes wide open, he stares at the earthen ceiling, blood pooling around his body, but not from his slashed throat.

Turning the light toward his abdomen, Caleb finds his son’s belly has been cut open and a pair of hands dig out his intestines. He turns the light toward the person, only to find a hideous creature staring back at him. The beast is covered in shaggy fur, dark gray or tawny in color, though he cannot be certain which. With a scrawny build but strong arms and legs, the furry beast with ten-inch-long rabbit ears snarls at him, flashing a set of frightening teeth. Its eyes glow yellow, reflecting the beam of his flashlight.

It drops his son’s intestines, which plop sickeningly over his mutilated body before rolling onto the dirt floor. Its fingers are coiled, revealing inch-long claws. A loud and shrill screech makes Caleb cover his ears as he backs away, only to bump into something. Another beast stands right beside him! How did it get there?! With a slash, it tries to claw his face, only for him to block the attack with his dominant arm. The claws rip into his jacket and scrape the flesh beneath, while the force of the strike causes him to fall back, lose his grip and drop his Ruger pistol.

Turning and crawling away, he switches his flashlight into his other hand as he tries desperately to grab his son’s revolver, which bounces about in his jacket pocket. As many as four of the monstrous entities attack him, swarming him from his head to his toes. Damian collects the pistol from the ground, examining it for a moment, before watching as the foul creatures assault the heartbroken father.

“Now remember, kids, don’t play with this one quite so roughly. I need him to last... I’ll hardly get any good meat from the other one!”

Kids?! Are these monstrosities Damian’s children?! Does Damian plan to eat Stevie’s corpse?!?! Caleb wrestles with the creatures, who suddenly ease their assault. Before, it felt as though they were trying to kill him, but with Damian’s words, they’re now determined to subdue him. Somehow, Caleb manages to draw his son’s revolver, letting off a single shot. Damian ducks down and covers his head, while the other creatures briefly jump back. Before Caleb can utilize this moment to his advantage, another beast lunges.

Latching onto his arm, the barely four-foot-tall monster bites him with incredible force. The teeth sink down to the bone; he can feel them scraping together. Screaming in agony, Caleb drops his son’s revolver, only to punch the monster in the face with the hand that holds the flashlight. As badly as he wants to kill all of these brutes, and their “father”, he knows he has his wife and daughter to protect. What horrors will these foul creatures unleash upon them, if he cannot take them away from the farm?!

“Stop struggling, and it’ll be easier for you.” Damian casually remarks, collecting the fallen revolver.

“Who are you?! What are these things?!” Caleb demands, struggling against the beasts.

“I told you, they’re my children. We needed a new home after out last one was destroyed, and this farm seemed perfect. They had all the food they’d ever need, but I was craving meat... So, they found some for me.”

Wrenching his body away from the beasts’ grasp, Caleb elbows a creature in the stomach and kicks one in the head, managing to break free just long enough to scramble into the darkness. He looks back and trips over a thick root. Rolling onto his back, he sits up and points his flashlight as he scrambles away, only to discover that the root he’d tripped over is actually a leg! It belongs to another of the foul creatures, but this one doesn’t attack him. Why does it sit there?! The answer is soon apparent.

Clawed hands grasp a large, swollen belly, protecting it. The creature is a female, and it’s obviously pregnant. The creature’s glowing eyes turn to him, and it hisses, revealing a mouth full of sharp, yellow teeth! He turns his light toward the other beasts, which stand before him, their backs towards the fire. Their eyes glow as they stare, hunched forward and with fingers coiled as if ready to pounce. For some reason, they wait, looking to the pregnant female for instruction. She tries to scurry away, toward Damian.

“Don’t you hurt my Jessica! Get him!” Damian instructs his children.

Nearly a dozen creatures dash for the terrified and wounded farmer, who rolls onto his hands and knees and scrambles away. They leap and lunge, grabbing for his legs, back and arms, clawing at him and shredding his sturdy jacket with ease! He moves down the short corridor, fighting them off. He must return to his wife and daughter, before it’s too late! Falling forward, he lands in the water trap, only to roll onto his back, grab the mushy soil above him and move in the opposite direction. It’s a struggle to hold his breath, as the urge to scream is overwhelming.

Their clawed hands grab his ankles! Kicking them off, he manages to swim away, popping up on the other side. Pulling himself from the water and crawling on all fours, he races for the mouth of the tunnel. The water pours down the angular tunnel, the lightning illuminating the precious sky above him. The water sloshes behind him and his heart sinks. He knows the brutes are right behind him. If he can just get to the surface, maybe he can outrun them?! He’s nearly two feet taller, after all! How fast can those things possibly be?!

The surface is so close now! Up and up, his fingers tear into the slimy and putrid mud floor. Just a little bit more! Hands grabs his ankles, squeezing tightly. The claws dig into his flesh, ripping right through his thick jeans. No! He must make it out!

“Mommy, I’m scared.” Becky whines, standing with her mother on the porch and staring at the cornfield. “Where’s Daddy and Stevie?! Where’s Skippy?!”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, but I’m sure they’re all fine.”

Left all alone, Margaret and little Becky watch and wait. What else can they do? Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream echoes faintly from the field. It’s Caleb’s voice.

“Mommy! I’m scared!” Becky whimpers, swiftly clinging to her mom’s side.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Everything’s fine.” Margaret assures the child, holding her tightly and lovingly petting her head.

The stalks begin to shiver and shake and scores of glowing yellow eyes peer at them from beyond the blackened stalks. With Caleb’s Charter Arms revolver in her hand, Margaret struggles to keep herself from shivering.

“Everything’s going to be okay...”