Eerie, Indiana fanfiction: Chicken

[froodle]

Written for Day 29 of the 31daysoffandom October challenge. The prompt I used for this one was "black"



The light from the torches was pale and watery, the weak beams failing to cut through the swirling darkness around them. If Marshall hadn't personally replaced each set of batteries with a brand new pair before they left, he might have thought drained power cells were the problem. In truth, however, the issue was the air around them. The dark was a living thing, a black and roiling miasma that left an acrid stink in their nostrils and set their eyes to stinging and watering. Through the dual hazes of smoke and tears, he could just see the pale grey smudge that must be Dash off to his left. Simon, he couldn't make out at all, but a patch of yellow illumination further on marked where his torch struggled to pierce the noxious atmosphere.

His foot came down on something that crackled and crumpled beneath his sneaker and he instinctively drew a sharp breath, regretting it immediately as the greasy smoke seared his throat and lungs, setting off a coughing fit that was only partially muffled by his shirt sleeve. Still coughing, he knelt on the bare floorboards and aimed the flickering flashlight at the spot the noise had come from. He couldn't catch sufficient breath to sigh in relief, but his heartbeat slowed considerably as the feeble beam picked up a crushed styrofoam box that still bore the tell-tale aroma of grease.

He glanced up, his eyes trying without success to cut through the surrounding gloom, and shone the flashlight in a wide arc about him. He'd seen enough horror movies to brace himself against the possibility of finding a nightmarish face inches from his own, but it seemed the coast was clear, at least for now. He rose from his crouch and began carefully picking his way across the room once more. He came across several more fast food containers, napkins smeared with what he fervently hoped was barbeque sauce, and disposable paper soft-drink cups with jagged holes piercing their smooth sides. He collected a few of these in resealable sandwich bags made from clear plastic, being careful to lift them with tweezers and not to let them in contact with his exposed skin.

The furthest corner of the room was cast in even deeper shadows, set between a bricked-up fireplace and a build-in bookcase to create a small, dark alcove where even the midday sun couldn't penetrate from the blacked-out windows. There was a nest of sorts, a great mound of paper bags and the small triangular cones that usually house deep-fried food truck fare. It had been gathered here and flattened in the middle, walls of paper and card rendered semi-translucent by grease. The steady blinking of a red light and the white glare of the view screen showed him that Simon was already getting videotape of the creature's lair, and a succession of muted flashes meant that Dash was also taking photographs, although whether the pictures would come out given the murky air and the cheap camera was another question.

"I guess we missed it," Simon murmured, his voice low as much to avoid inhaling the burning air as for stealth. He fiddled with the settings on the camcorder, zooming in to get the logos on the trash that made up the nest.

The camera clicked, indicating that Dash had used up his roll of film. He pocketed the camera and shrugged.

"You seem pretty sure it's not just some homeless guy," he said. "But this looks like every place I ever crashed."

"You made a nest out of burger bags?" asked Marshall.

"No," said Dash. "But I had a sleeping bag. If I hadn't, I'd have used what was on hand."

"The neighbourhood watch guy said he saw a monster climbing up the fire escape that lead to this building," said Marshall. "And... did you guys notice anything weird about the trash?" They shook their heads. Marshall held up the bulging black sack filled with sealed evidence bags.

"We should check it when we get home, but I swear it was all from the same place - the chicken joint on the corner of Front Street and Main."

"Wait a minute," said Dash. "Did you drag us out here to spy on the chicken guy?"

"What?" said Marshall, at the same time as Simon said, "Who?"

"You know," said Dash, "The chicken guy? Half man, half chicken, all hideous?" He took in their blank expressions, and his own became honestly confused. "He ate at the Chickeniest Chicken Palace every day for years, and now he's a horrible chicken hybrid?"

"You're messing with us," said Mars.

"I swear I'm not. Why do you think I never raid the dumpsters behind that place? One, it's his territory, two, I don't want to become a chickeny abomination."

"That can't be true," said Mars. "You're making this up."

"Yeah," said Simon. "I've lived here all my life and I've never heard of a chicken man."

"That's the sort of thing parents tell their kids to get them to eat their greens," said Mars. "'if you eat too many chips, you'll turn into a chip', that kind of stuff. It's not literal."

"How do you two not know about this?" said Dash. "It's a weird creature and some hapless loser for you to practice your good deeds on, all rolled into one. This is like your dream discovery."

"Which is why we would totally know about the chicken guy if there actually was a chicken guy for us to know about," said Mars.

Dash shrugged.

"Maybe you're not as good as you think you are," he said. "I mean, the chicken guy has been around at least as long as I can remember..."

"Not that long, then," muttered Marshall, knowing it was a low blow but stung by the slight on his paranormal investigating prowess. Simon gasped, and he looked away, ashamed.

Dash scowled. Pulling the camera from his coat pocket, he tossed it one-handed in Simon's direction, never taking his eyes off Marshall.

"Believe what you like," he said, his voice low but grating. "I've got better things to do than hang out with you two losers in a man-chicken cave."

They watched him go in silence, Simon's somehow managing to be reproachful despite him not saying anything.

"Okay, fine," said Mars eventually. "But the chicken guy thing is bullshit."

Simon shrugged.

"One way to find out," said Simon. "The Chicken Palace opens at noon."

Marshall looked around him, the greasy scent of reprocessed and deep fried chicken parts already clinging to his skin, hair, and clothes.

"Great," he said.





Microwave-verse

Bonfire by froodle, in which Pinocchio is ruined forever

Gingerbread by froodle, in which there is a witch in the Eerie Woods

Leaves by froodle, in which plantlife finds Marshall entirely too enticing

Offspring by froodle, in which there are dragons

Based on Your Previous Purchases by froodle, in which Mars should really pay attention to Amazon's reccomendations

Housework by froodle, in which a rota cannot be agreed upon

Breakfast by froodle, in which Dash's attempts at cookery do not go well

Ghost in the Machine by froodle, in which a new laptop opens an old wound

Consequences by froodle, in which an encounter with leprechauns leaves the boys very tired indeed

The Microwave by froodle, in which Andrea Fantucci returns to Eerie after a considerable absense

The Eldritch Abomination in the Room by froodle, in which the microwave is most definitely not discussed

Basic Household Maintenance by froodle, in which manticores are inconsiderate houseguests

Torrential by froodle, in which there is a storm, and the boys eat ice-cream

Linens by froodle, in which Dash X makes a bed

Night Music by froodle, in which Simon is woken by a nocturnal visitor

In For The Night by froodle, in which Dash refuses to leave the house

Hound by froodle, in which Simon makes a friend

Errands by froodle, in which Simon has a to-do list

Waterlogged by froodle, in which Eerie experiences heavy rainfall

Wildlife by froodle, in which Simon and Marshall go to the beach

Rainbow by froodle, in which Dash fails to properly appreciate Michael Flatley

Jackolantern by froodle, in which the local pumpkin patch has a problem