litranaut

The Broadcast finally came.”…casti…on…genc…cies….we are….ting…emer….freq”Ears strained as fingers turned dials with the dexterity of a professional safe cracker.Truth be told, autotune did most, if not all, of the work but the image was far too good to pass up.Private Dreams voice came through crystal clear.”We are broadcasting on emergency frequencies. Repeat. We are broadcasting on emergency frequencies. We are under heavy attack, Many wounded. We are using this channel to evacuate refugees. Please, open you browsers, readers and feeds to accept the wounded and fleeing. We will have more information as it comes. Thank you for your patience and kindness.”

The Command Center looked like a bomb had hit it. Dust covered everything; papers were strewn over every surface; wires stuck out where the paper was missing. Plates, with half eaten meals, stacked on a table.

Major Goals was written into scene in front of a pile of clothes dumped in a corner.

He looked at the mess. “Jesus, you want to tell me what happened here, soldier?”

The troop he addressed snapped to attention. “Sir. Yes, Sir.”

“At ease, soldier,” the Major smiled, kindly. “It looks like you’ve been through the wringer.”

The young man slumped. “It was a massacre, sir. We’d all seen the signs – a couple of hours lost here and there, an evening unaccounted for but no different from any of the other border spats.” He swallowed. “We just weren’t prepared for the ferocity of the assault when it came.”

Goals nodded. “Casualties?”

“Many, sir…” The young soldier stopped. “We….we lost Free Time, sir.”

The Major blanched, his hand finding an edge of a table to steady himself. “Free time?” His voice was strained. “We..we came up together. I can’t believe he’s gone.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Goals was angry. The emotion spilling into his words. “Who did this, Private? Where did they come from?”

“It…it came from out of nowhere, si-”

“Nowhere? Those bastards!”

“…Sir?” Not the response the young Private has expected.

“Every attack I have ever faced was initiated by them, every one, came out of Nowhere.” The Major pulled straightened up, a new resolve found. “Well, no more, soldier. No more. Today, we take the attack to them.”

The soldier was completely confused, so just nodded. “Yes….sir.”

“What’s your name, soldier?”

“Dreams, sir. Private Dreams.”

“Dreams, hmm? You remind me of me when I was coming up.” The Major looked at the disaster area, thought about the loss of his friend.

“Dreams Send the broadcast. We have an attack to plan.”

The keyboard sat, untouched and forlorn; notes at the side half edited.

The requisite tea, long cold, now housed a new form of life. Well, new, at least, to the cup.

No feeds pinged. No sites updated. Just a small note:

This Service has been interrupted by an incursion from Real Life. All efforts are being made to repel the invaders. Please stand by for am emergency broadcast.

The photos arrived with three different courier services.

A body wrapped in police tape. “Caution. Do Not Enter.”

Detective Conrad, Art Crime groaned. “Marty! It’s another one. Fuckin’ freaks. Christ, I’m too old for this.” He showed the pictures to a passing cop. “Look at this. I tell ya, I don’t even understand that Prickasso, or whaddeva he’s called, and I have to sort this out?”

He stared at the photos, front and back, sent them to the labs with a rush order, but in the end it was a call in that sent them to a downtown loft.

The body was pinned to the door. Nailed through hands, arms, and feet – then, to take the weight, she was hung on two huge hooks.

Once she was taken off the door, a cursory examination revealed that the tape was melted to the skin around where the body was exposed.

“No blood pooling, no bleeding out. This isn’t the primary scene.” It was a young coroner who was stating the obvious.

Conrad hated the forensics team, thought they were deviants. He couldn’t figure how anyone would want to spend their time around dead people. He was convinced they were fucking the corpses down in the morgue. He wanted to get cameras installed in there, but the Chief wouldn’t have it.

Maybe the Chief was in on it too…

“Captain Conrad?”

He was shaken from the reverie.

“Oh, yeah. Whatever. Who found the stiff?”

“The victim,” the Coroner stressed, shooting Conrad a look that made him very happy indeed, “was discovered by his neighbor. He -“

“Yeah, yeah – getting that from him is my job.” Conrad looked round. “Where is he?”

“Downstairs. He was very distraught so the guys took him out of the building.”

“And no one thought to tell me when I was down there? Christ.”

He stomped off.

Turns out the guy had seen his neighbor pinned up when he came home last night. Thought it was a party decoration – even though the room was quiet. Went past in in the morning when he got breakfast, and when he came back a couple of hours later.

“It was only when I…I” He was crying. Conrad hated criers. God – it’s not like she was anything to him. Unless she was… that could be motive…

“I saw the flies crawling over it. I went to knock on her door and the thing was .. it was…” He dissolved into tears again.

“Ok there, Mr Stevens. We get the idea. So, here’s the deal. We gotta take ya downtown. Getcha statement, clear you of anything – ya know? It’s a whaddayacawlit…a formality. So, if you’d like to go with that man over there.”

The witness disposed of, all Conrad had to do was wait. He sat across the road at a diner drinking the black piss they had the cheek to call coffee. From there he got a fantastic view of the explosion as it tore the front off the apartment.

There was nothing to see at the scene of the crime. The clean up team was killed in the blast. The whole apartment had been rigged – the tape at the door being a gag – she was a police tape warning about entering the room.

Conrad called it in. Bomb squad, safety crew, ambulances and a new clean up team – not to mention the entire press corps helicopter crew – descended on the site.

Conrad directed, informed, taped off areas, handed over the scene to the uniforms then kept the peace until his was called back to the station.

The building had been evacuated, everyone was on the street when he arrived, even that cross dressing detective working undercover on vice.

No – not everyone. None of the coroners were there. 

It seems it wasn’t just the room that was trapped.

As soon as the tap was cut away, the body started releasing a gas. The lab was down, presumed dead, and the building had been quarantined.

Art Crime. He fucking hated it.

Dadaists.

Found on  SurvivorNet

 

N00bHatorz:

First

 

Dedkillah:

Hahaha pwnd. Noob

 

Guardian359:

Shit. Where was this? Does anyone know?

 

Pwner:

It’s in the title, arsewipe.

 

Smurtgai:

Ur all saf frum the ded. U aint got no brains.

 

Lurker:

O_o

 

Hoomun:

I….no…that’s to easy.

 

Guardian359:

Doesn’t anyone want to know what they were doing? I mean – there was a guy in a dress.

 

Sh4rpChootR:

SoCal Represents.

 

N00bHatorz:

Biotch

 

DoctorArmitage:

Look – Guardian is right. They look organised. They’re walking – not shuffling. They all seem to be dressed up. That one in the wedding dress – look how new it is. He’s not like the other Dead.

 

PileDrivr:

Fag. You’re looking at a Dead in a dress and getting a boner.

 

Sh4rpChootR:

LOLZ

 

Trulz2015:

Fake

 

N00bHatorz:

U prick. That’s all u eva say. Y cum here if u think all is fake?

 

GanStarOG:

It’s not fake.

 

Trulz2015:

Like you’d know.

 

CameramanFreeNews:

It’s not a fake. I was the camera man. We didn’t know what to make of it. They 

all seemed to be going somewhere. Only those four came into the alleyway, 

even after blood was spilt. The chose to ignore it. I was hoping someone 

would have something interesting to say.

 

Smurtgai:

Ur not cumraman. U lieur. LOL. N00B. Ur Ded food

 

Lurker:

Again…O_o

 

Hoomun:

Christ. And we’re the future?

 

DoctorArmitage:

They definitely seem to be going somewhere. Did anyone follow this up with 

Home? Was there anything going on Downtown?

 

Trulz2015:

Fake. The only thing that was getting done Downtown was your mum.

  That was the cue.

 

Sh4rpChootR:

LOLZ!!11!11!1 OMG PWNED!!11!1!1

 

CameramanFreeNews:

Home didn’t have reports of anything happening in the area. This appears to be

  a new phenomena. But if they are organising, if they are getting smarter, then

  that’s only going to be bad.

 

Trulz2015:

OMG! Drama queen much? Stop trying 2b interesting. Ur not a

  cameraman. It’s a fake video. And what do you know about the Dead.

 I bet ur Guardian and the Dr too. No one cares about your shitty lies.

  Fuck u. Fuck U. FUCK U.

 

Lurker:

Are you kidding me? How stupid are you? He live in tiny

  human outposts. We have to be protected 24/7. He live in fear.

  The only reason we’re where we are today is because they’re

  stupid. If they get smarter, if we can see them organizing,

  planning – any of these things, we’re screwed.

 

These things not only appeared to plan a route, they

consciously walked that route and even got as far as dressing

  for the occasion. Just screaming “Fake” doesn’t make that go

  away.

 

Fuck it, why am I even talking to you anyway? You’re

probably 8 and hiding in some rich brats enclave with mummy

  and daddy.

 

People like you make me sick

 

  Trulz2015:

My family got eaten in the Second Wave when I was

  12. Don’t think you can lecture me about what this

  means to people.

 

 

Three weeks after it was put up, the last report from FreeNews 15, “The Dead Are Organising Downtown,” was pulled from the site.