Chapter 2: Visitors
It took a while before reality sank into Marty's head. He was just staring at his grandma's corpse unmovingly, without any thoughts at all. Having the same face he usually did whenever he just came home from his part time job at night and he couldn't decide whether to shower first or to just jump straight onto his bed. No one would have thought he just killed someone with his slightly bored, slightly annoyed, and overall tired expression.
He exited the room, went down to the kitchen, made himself a cup of instant black coffee and an omelet. It was a peaceful morning if we ignore the corpse inside the house, obviously.
After he had his breakfast, he went ahead and gave himself a nice, long shower. He then sat on the sofa in the living room, turned on the TV to watch some news and only then did everything sink into him.
He put down the remote control, his fingers shaking.
"Wha—What have I done?" he muttered to himself with unfocused eyes, his voice trembling.
As he slid down the floor trying to process what just happened, his other phone, the cheap keypad one that didn't have a flight mode option began to ring. It was his father. He picked it up after much hesitation.
"Hey, Marty." As usual, he heard his father's carefree voice. His father wasn't a bad person per se, just a big momma's boy and his momma just happened to be not that good. "Is everything okay over there? I couldn't contact your other number for some reason."
Marty, not wanting to let his father know what he just did, decided to pretend that nothing was wrong. "Hey, Dad. Um… yeah, everything's fine. Just had a bit of a rough day at work yesterday but I'm fine." He didn't stutter at all. He had a knack for lying by the seat of his pants. A skill he had to learn with a helicopter grandma.
"Rough day? What happened? You sound really shaken up. Is there anything going on that you want to talk about?"
"It's nothing, Dad. Just… Just messed up at my work and got scolded a little, that's all. I'm okay, really."
"Are you sure? Where's your grandma? Let me speak to her." Upon hearing this, Marty seemed to have swallowed his tongue but managed to squeeze out some words somehow. "She's still asleep. I'll call you later. I am running late for work. Bye." Then he hung up and shut down the phone. He didn't know what to do anymore and that was when his eyes landed on the old computer under the staircase that he barely used because of how much virus it had. It was given by his uncle. A very, very old computer from the 80's that still had a bulky monitor. Obviously, it wouldn't help him at all since it only had very pixelated games in it but it gave him an idea.
He ran back to his room, grudgingly turned off the flight mode of his phone, only to be bombarded by texts from his boss and coworkers, which he ignored completely, and went to search the internet: "How to hide a body?"
He got various answers, all referencing various movies. Stuff like: open burning, acid bath, chopping the corpse up and feeding them to the pigs, and the most common: a secret backyard grave underneath an inconspicuous vegetable patch.
Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything out of the four. First of all, their house didn't have a gate. Anything he did will be seen by the neighbors so that removed the open burning and the secret backyard grave from the list. Secondly, he wasn't interested in chopping a corpse up. Not only did it require him to have guts, it would also make a mess, spreading evidence everywhere like blood splotches and stuff. Removing them completely was questionable. Lasty, buying an acid that could melt a human body was illegal.
And it was at that moment, a big bike skidded to a stop at his front yard, the loud engine cutting off abruptly. It almost made his heart stop. Then he peered from his window and saw a man in rugged, all black leather, who just dismounted his bike and strode towards the door and pounded heavily.
As the rider knocked on the door, Marty's heart quickened, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. He knew he had to maintain composure and not raise any suspicion so he ran down to the front door and with a shaky hand, he opened it, his mind racing as he struggled to keep his smile.
The grizzled rider, who just removed his helmet, looked at Marty right in the eye. "You've got yourself in a bit of trouble, haven't you?" he said, a sly grin playing at the corners of his lips.
Marty's blood ran cold, the color draining from his face. "What do you mean?" He pretended to play dumb but the grizzled rider merely chuckled, the sound grating on Marty's already frayed nerves.
"You can't fool me," he said, his expression unreadable. "But don't worry, your secret's safe with me. For now. How about you let me in? And a cup of coffee perhaps? Hmm… An omelet sounds good too. Man, I'm really hungry."
As the rider continued to ramble on, Marty's trembling knees finally gave out and he collapsed to the floor.
***
At the same time in a different place, a woman could be seen clutching her chest with both hands, hyperventilating. Fresh blood dripped from her fingers and down to her elbows. A corpse stabbed over a hundred times lay by her feet.
Just a few moments ago, she was stabbing this person in a maddened state. A self defense gone horribly wrong.
Her name was Linda. She was only a simple freelancer, living off writing web novels, making videos, and selling arts, when a middle aged man started stalking her. Going from just tracking her location and moving next to her apartment, to sending her death threats. The reason was simple: He didn't like the ending of her previous novel that he spent money following for years and he wanted it changed. It escalated to the point of stealing her manuscripts, to following her wherever she went, to finally attacking her, and then finally the current situation.
As she struggled to calm herself, she suddenly heard bells. With overstimulated senses, she jerked her head to where the sound was coming from and saw a clown in colorful clothing. Bells were attached to the tips of his shoes.
"W—Who are you?" she stammered.
"You," said the clown in a jesting manner while pointing to the corpse. "You want me to clean that up?"
As the clown asked that, the woman entered into a state of heightened fear and panic causing her to faint.
"Ah, what a shame," the clown sighed. "I was planning on showing her a trick."
At that exact moment, eight more people were visited by these strange visitors.
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