Jonathan: now

      Stepping into the room of Clancy Matthews, Jonathan was shocked at how ordinary a space he encountered. He'd imagined so many possible details in his mind on the drive to the hospital, none of which prepared him for the stark, mostly bare room he was now standing in. The walls were covered in white wallpaper (not padded and covered with cryptic scrawlings as he'd imagined it would be). Nor was the room dark, damp, and decaying like the asylums Jonathan had seen in movies; instead he found the room well let and filled with the antiseptic smell of pine-scented cleaner. He found the man sitting slumped over in a chair by the room's single window. Clancy was dressed in pale blue pants and a white t-shirt. His eyes were open but he seemed to be staring through the floor. When Jonathan spoke the man's name he didn't so much as turn his head in Jonathan's direction. Taking a seat on the neatly made bed beside Clancy, Jonathan continued to speak. "Mr. Matthews, I'm not sure if you are hearing me right now but if you are I believe there is a chance you can help me. My name is Jonathan Bowers. They tell me that you haven't spoken a word since being brought to this place, but... I'm hoping maybe you will talk to me." Clancy's eyes still stared blankly. Jonathan fought the urge to give up and leave. He hadn't driven all this way for nothing. His uncle had believed this broken man was the key to stopping this horrible darkness from being unleashed on the world. Jonathan pulled a Polaroid photograph of the dragon drawing from a folder he'd brought with him and held it in front of the man's eyes. "Mister, have you ever seen the dragon in this picture before?" 
     The change in Clancy's expression was subtle at first, just a tightening of the man's mouth and a glimmer of awareness in his eyes, then gradually his face came alive. To Jonathan it seemed as if the other man were awakening from some dreadful nightmare and finding that it had followed him into the waking world. The terror in Clancy's eyes made Jonathan's own heart beat faster. Suddenly Clancy was standing; he grabbed Jonathan by the lapels of his jacket and flung him from the bed with alarming strength. Without a word Clancy gripped the bed by its frame and drug it away from its place against the wall. There on the floor was the dragon itself, carved into the linoleum tiles... no not carved... scratched there by the man's own fingernails. Clancy turned and face Jonathan, his eyes now red-rimmed and fully alert. "He's coming!" the man screamed. "He sees us right now! He's laughing at us right n..." As the man's voice reached a fevered pitch he lurched forward and brown stream of vomit erupted from his mouth and drenched Jonathan's from his chest down. With mounting horror Jonathan saw that the vomit was not actually vomit at all; it was alive and crawling down his body toward the floor. It was a worm, easily four feet long and covered with a teeming mass of cockroaches that scattered as it landed on the floor with a wet plop. The worm crawled across the tile floor to the dragon etched there covering the image and positioning its slimy body to match the dragon's curves. Clancy fell to his knees, still conscious but with a trail of brown tinged blood now dripping from his mouth down his chin like a grotesque beard. Jonathan heard screaming and a moment later realized that the voice was his own. The fluorescent lights overhead began to flicker; suddenly the white walls of the hospital room were gone and Jonathan found himself in darkness.

 Laura: Now
     Laura's eyes opened and for the second time in as many days she found herself restrained. Able at least to move her head she was amazed to find her chest wasn't a bloody mess. Apparently the trucker had loaded the pistol with rubber bullets, preferring instead to have his bloody fun with his victims. It still felt like she'd been smacked in the chest with a sledgehammer. She was no longer in the cellar, that much she knew. she was currently strapped down to a table in what seemed liked a library of some sort. What she could see of the walls were lined with shelves which were sagging with the weight of countless books. She could hear the man muttering in a distant corner of the room and though she couldn't make out what he was saying he seemed to be arguing. There was something chilling about hearing the odd one-sided conversation. Some sixth sense told Laura that the trucker wasn't speaking on the phone, that he was debating with some voice in his head that only he could hear. Abruptly silence filled the room and then she heard heavy footsteps as he rushed across the room to where she lay. As he came into view she noticed he was now wearing a black apron and on his hands he wore bright yellow rubber cleaning gloves. The sight might have been comical if the gloves hadn't been covered with blood. The trucker cranked and unseen handle to her left and the table ratcheted forward bringing her upright and giving her a complete view of the room. What she saw both angered her beyond anything she'd felt thus far and also broke her heart. The women's bodies were arranged about the space like a gruesome still life. She recognized Pamela and the others by their clothing, their heads had all been removed. Tears welled up in Laura's eyes and poured down her cheeks. Nancy was sitting in a chair in front of Laura, arms tied behind he back, still alive. Above her duct-taped mouth the girls eyes were large and watery with terror.
     The trucker grabbed a handful of Laura's hair and forced her to look at him. " He wants you to see this." the man said. "He wants you to know how important this is, how specie you are. You are the final lamb." He stroked Laura's cheek lovingly with a gloved finger leaving a bloody smear. "You are a special one." Laura couldn't reply since her own mouth was taped shut as well. He turned from her and crossed the room, positioning himself behind Nancy. He picked up a hacksaw from the table behind the thin girl and placed the serrated edge against the pale skin of her neck. The trucker was smiling again, with his head tilted slightly to the side as though someone were whispering sweetly into his ear. Laura supposed the may just be the case. The man nodded as though in agreement and then the hacksaw was in motion.