The Gray

Sensitive Theme Warning: Violence, gore, horror, suicide ideation.

It's a hole in the ground. Newspaper, leaves, and cardboard. Paracord to the truck behind. Pitfall.

The shuffling is sporadic. Moments of silence then...

The stomach growls. The creature shuffles.

It's a rabbit. An albino. Comes out like an old magician's hat. No fight.

I pull it close to my face. Can feel its breath. Its heart beats quick. It doesn't fight.

Why?

No broken limbs. No signs of tears.

The stomach growls. Look in its eyes. Beaty. Red. 

I sigh.

Set it down. Doesn't run. Sniffs the air. Steps around. Timid. Walks back to the pitfall. Flops inside. Shuffles. Stops.

I want to laugh, but the forest is quiet. No wind. Once a concrete jungle. Shopping malls, cars, people. Now it belongs to the green. What isn’t claimed by the green is claimed by the Gray. And the Gray is quiet.

It squeaks.

I pick it up again.

Doesn't fight.

Set it down. Block the path to the pitfall with boot. It walks around a bit. It’s lost, alone. No instincts to live. 

Strange.

Branch snaps behind me–big branch. 

Reach for gun.

Black flash–big flash.

BANG

Birds fly away. Fluttering wings echo amongst the concrete and trees. Rabbit's gone.

Slight rustling in the distance. It stops.

Too small for bear. Must be bobcat. Agile, quick.

There's blood spray on the road. Twisted pattern against overgrowth. I follow it. 

I am the apex. I am what’s left. I am man.

Follow for a mile. Blood drippings and shuffled leaves. Leads to real forest, dense. No concrete. The Gray has touched these trees. Now it rots with life. The coding is amalgamated. All is one, and one is all. The Gray spreads slowly. That is its way. Leaves touch where they shouldn’t. They grow into each other until two become one–until a hundred becomes one. Until all is Gray.

The trail of the beast walks the line between life and fake-life. Where the earth is still brown, the ground’s too dry to give a distinct print. Where the world is Gray, the blood loses its colour and feeds the machine. 

The sun is setting. The Gray will cede to the earth. Still, it grows. The whole of it, the lot of it, pushing over the trail, seeping into the earth. Must follow the colour, until there is none left. 

Dusk has set. When the green is quiet, the Gray may speak. The Gray’s owls hoot their calls. Distorted cries echoing amongst itself.  Mockery. They call to me from the canopy.

“Hoot. Where do you go?”

I don’t answer the Gray. It’s all lies. 

“Hoot. Why do you go?”

I don’t answer. 

“Derek,” More human this time, “my love.”

Don’t stop.

“We miss you.” 

I stop and look into the Gray. It glows at night. Coding stolen from fireflies. It hums and haws with energy. Colours shifting–blue, green, orange–where it wills. 

The Gray squelches against itself. Tearing, ripping, like the sound of flesh in the mouth of a bear. Trees cracking under pressure that builds until it snaps. It tears itself to breed. 

A silhouette stands deep in the Gray. It hides behind a tree. Gnawed silver fingers stretched around the bark of more Gray. 

“Derek?” 

Far more human than before. I pull out the gun.

“Is it you?” 

Female. Familiar. I pull back the hammer.

“Derek, please!” 

I put the barrel to my temple. The Gray recoils. Low. Guttural hiss. Vibrating through the silver mass. The apparition melts into itself, seeping back into the Gray like water into sand. 

I sigh. Put down the gun. Pull out the torch. Follow the trail. Ignore the memories.

The trail remains. The blood falls more into the green. If it’s a cat, it’s big. It’s eaten well. There’s a river nearby. Freshwater. 

Lips are dry. Cracked. Hands too. 

The trail leads to the sound of water. Moonlight sparkles through the canopy of leaves. The beast has taken me to a pond. Frogs hop amongst lily pads. Ribbit. Stomach growls. 

Make a gig out of branches and twine. Spear three. Cut back of necks. Peel off skin. Use knife to cut through feet and hips. Legs are good. Moonlight is good. 

Dump in salt water. Start a fire. Burn the impurities. 

Feast beneath the stars. The tune of water is… nice. It does not squelch. It does not cry. It simply flows. 

Night has seeped in. The beast will tire. Now is the time. 

Pack up supplies. Throw discarded frog bits to where the Gray will come. Let it feast on the dead instead. 

Cross the river. Find trail. Blood patterns are more frequent. 

Not far. 

Put torch on shoulder. Count bullets. Four. Holster gun with strap loose. Draw spear. Listen

Leaves, wind, whine. 

The whine is not a cat.

Draw nearer to animal. Blood pools in thick puddles. Whine is frequent. The beast is hurt enough to not be alarmed by the light. Keep it on.

Something is tearing flesh. Sounds like the Gray but raw. 

It’s chewing. 

Hide in bush. Close to the beast–very close. 

The beast is not alarmed. Not by the light. Not by footsteps. Not by me. I face the beast beneath the light of my torch. 

The Beast is not a cat. It’s a dog–Great Dane. Mouth stained with blood. Bullet hit right flank. Bleeding under the moon. Alive. Barely.

The squelching sound continues. Not the dog. 

Shine light towards it. 

Its eyes catch the light, but it does not move. It holds the remains of the white rabbit in its dark and thin fingers. Blood shines off the skin around the mouth. Takes the rabbit and bites into the guts raw. Its beady eyes look at me. Silent intrigue. 

I kneel to its level. It watches me without concern or care. A child–a human child. 

I rush to him. The dog growls and stands on its wounded leg. I raise my hands and cede. The dog rests and resumes its whines. Not taking its eyes off me. 

There is no sign of the Gray on the child. There is no sign of Gray on the dog. Both are younger than the Gray. 

Take off rucksack. Gather firewood. Build small fire. Child watches in awe. Dog is unbothered. Offer small berries to child. It smiles and takes them with bloodied hands. 

The child eats until it cannot and falls asleep. The dog rests where it lay. I take the rabbit and cut it to pieces. Cooking what’s left, eating little, and saving the rest. 

I curl next to the fire and let sleep take me. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dogs barks startle me awake. Frequent yaps at something behind me. The child has taken my spear and points it behind me. 

The sun is overhead. I have slept too long. 

Twist in place. The Gray surrounds me. Silver apparitions stand above. Shaped like humans, features like humans, but only gray. The dog barks more frequently. The child is near to tears screaming.

The Gray has claimed my leg. Its crawl is slow. I thrust my leg free from the mold. But the Gray has seeped into my skin. 

The child screams again, jabbing at the apparitions. It connects with one. But the apparition holds the spear tightly and pulls the child in. 

Don’t think. Jump at apparition. Push child away. Apparition swallows me, wrapping my skin. Reach for gun. Bring to head. 

BANG. 

Nothing. Still here. Missed. Apparition pulls hand down. Kicks gun to the green–to the child.  

The child stares at me. Nod to gun. 

“Do it!” First words I have uttered in years. “Do it!”

The Gray brings me to my knees. Apparitions all around. Touching, feeling, taking me. The mold crawls slow. Points of contact multiplying. 

“Do it!” 

The child picks up the gun and points it at me. Relief. I don’t fight anymore, but the child does. Its hands tremble. 

The child’s eyes are teary. It has not known me. Still, it weeps. 

I smile, “It’s okay. It’s okay, little one. Let it happen.” 

BANG.