The Miners' Hospital

This short story was featured in an anthology titled Fireburst, available here:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07LDF3FVH/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_awdb_t1_J0ngFbQJMZ4YV

So... I may be a wee bit obsessed with these ghost hunting shows on t.v. I just can't stop watching them. Maybe it has to do with my love of horror movies, or the fact that every house I've lived in has had some kind of paranormal activity. I'm not sure.

That being said, I could never actually go hunting myself. I've seen some shit. These guys on these shows always say they started doing it because they saw something unexplainable when they were younger. They want to find it. They want answers. I don't. That shit is scary. I can't bring myself to intentionally look for it. That's why this situation makes no sense.

I'm sitting in the car. There's something on the hood and a mess in my pants. Jake's gonna be pissed when he gets a whiff of the interior. But, maybe I should start from the beginning.

My cousin Alan went to school at some fancy art school. He wanted to learn how to make movies. It was also a good excuse to leave the little one road town where we grew up in southern West Virginia. He told everyone about how he had these artistic visions, and how he wanted to do something great to change people's perception of the residents there in a positive way. I was honest. I told people I was bored. 

Don't get me wrong. The Appalachian mountains are gorgeous. But there's not much to do. I never really took any interest in hunting, though I do enjoy fishing. Without a job, I could never afford an ATV. And getting high and drunk in the hills gets old after a while. At least it did for me.

So... there's this ghost thing. Now, you need to realize that where I'm from, there isn't much flat land. Any time someone came across a hollow (or holler as the locals say it) they built a house. So did everyone else. So you have as many people as possible living anywhere flat. And they stay there for generations. When people die, they die there. If someone decides to stick around, well, you know where they'll be.

I was born with a natural sensitivity. From the invisible guy who used to sit on my bed when I was four, to the stuffed clown in the swing hanging from the ceiling that would move by itself. Oh, there's also the time I moved off the road to let a horse and wagon pass. I heard it. I even saw the horse's breath. Just no horse. Nor wagon.

I'm a little off subject. Anyway, that's why I'm obsessed with the shows. Alan called with the idea to go home and do our own "investigations." He knows about my experiences and the fact that I'll watch just about any show with “ghost” or “paranormal” in the title. He thinks I am the perfect person for it. I let him talk me into it. It's for a t.v. pitch. It won't be real, just bad actors and movie magic. That's what I thought.

Alan tells me to meet at aunt Shelly's house on Thursday. We're going to stay there for a few days while we film. The old hospital they built for the coal miners has been abandoned for around five years now. People are talking. They see and hear things, and not just the bored kids messing around in there.

Okay, now we're caught up. On the way here, Alan told me a bunch of stories about this place. I started looking for the camera, assuming it was part of the show. Nope. This place is actually haunted, so my ass refused to go in. I think I made a mistake. Now I'm sitting in uncle Jake's truck with a mountain monster perched on the hood. I grab the walkie-talkie.

*chirp*

"Alan, you need to see this."

*chirp*

"What's that, scaredy-cat? Pee yourself?"

*chirp*

"Shit. Look, I'm not talking about that. There's something on the hood of the truck."

*chirp*

"Uh... you shit yourself? Is there an apparition?"

*chirp*

Sigh... "It's a bat."

*chirp*

"Look," I hear the frustration in his voice. "Nature can be scary. I get it. Maybe you've just been away too long."

*chirp*

"What? No... it's a bat man."

*chirp*

"Batman. Look, last time I checked, this wasn't Gotham."

*chirp*

"No! Not Batman! A bat MAN! A man bat! It's four feet tall with fuckin' people legs!"

Okay, so yelling may have been a mistake. The bat thing had been squatting on the hood. Just sitting there. Now, it's on all fours, a furry toddler with black skin -wings- hanging from the underside of its arms. And that face. Inches away from the windshield, fogging the glass each time it exhales. The shape of the head is pretty much humanoid with pointed ears. Like an elf or something. The eyes are large, oval-shaped, like they're sitting on end, but not quite completely vertical. And they have a slight green glow to them. The nose, like a pig, but the top of the tip stretched up into a point to match the ears. Drool is dripping from the exposed teeth. Not very large, but each one is obviously sharp.

It places its hands on the glass, causing clacking sounds as the long black talons at the fingertips tap against it. I'm just sitting here, frozen, marinating in my own feces. It opens its mouth and emits a shrill, piercing scream. Sonar, maybe? That echo-location stuff? 

Alan and the two guys he had brought to help with cameras and whatnot come out of the hospital right about then. This thing whips its head to the left, where the sound came from. The guys stop, frozen in a mixture of fear and fascination. I slowly reach my hand to the window crank and roll it down just enough for them to hear me yell.

“Run!”

Alan and the cameraman dart off toward his Suburban. The chubby sound man runs back inside. But drops the boom microphone and trips on it. The creature shrieks and pushes off Jake’s truck with powerful legs. It holds long arms out to the sides and large, blacks wings extend. The sound guy doesn't stand a chance, as it lands on him before he can get up.

The other men make it to the SUV and get it. I slide over to the driver's seat and fire up the truck. I shove the shifter into first and push the accelerator to the floor. It stalls. I try again, this time spinning the wheels on the gravel and sending a shower of dirt and rocks I to the air, pelting the Suburban behind me. 

I've lost track of the monster. Oh, there it is, on the hood of the truck behind me. I watch the headlights swerve off the road and one goes out as it slams into a tree. I hear the crunch of metal, cracking of glass, and screams from my cousin and his friend. There isn't much I can do.

A smart man wouldn't have paid so much attention to the rear view mirror. I look ahead just in time to watch the right corner of my front bumper clip a tree, sending me into a spin. Once the truck gets sideways, I feel like I'm upside-down. Pretty sure the truck is flipping now.

I'm not sure what exactly happened. I do know that I'm lying on the ground. Must have got thrown out. There isn't anymore screaming. But there is a wet smacking sound. Slurping, too. Like a dog eating table scraps. I can't feel my legs. Really, I can't feel anything below about armpit level. I open my eyes and see that sky. That beautiful sky.

I forgot how much I love the night sky here. There is no light pollution. The absolute darkness allows all of those beautiful stars to show themselves. Billions of stars you'll never see in the city. It's breathtaking, and not just because I'm paralyzed. But that sound is bugging me.

I manage to lift my head. My eyes begin to well up with tears. The bat monster is there, leaning over me. The sloppy wet sound is my insides, being ripped out and devoured by this thing. I guess not being able to feel or move is a blessing right now. My head hits the ground, and I blink away tears.

I think I'll just look at the stars.