Index 4 E501

A Story by Squid

The fourth story in a collection of stories that revolve around Fenton Umbren and his work with the IIA

Fenton woke to the sound of howling winds. He fell out of bed and tore open the curtains, and saw what he hadn't wanted to, a swirling torrent of ghosts wailing across the sky. He sighed and picked up his phone and called the Operator.

“You seeing this, Op?”

“Hearing it too, Dr. Umbren, looks like a E501, what are we going to do about it?”

“Not much we can do, I’ll just follow behind, make sure everyone is out of the way.”

“Roger that, Sir.”

Fenton pulled on his lab coat and half walked half dragged himself out to his car, and started following the torrent of spirits. More than a few times he had to stop and push people who had been woken up and wandered outside to see what all the noises were about, back inside their houses with variations of “it's not safe, please return to your home”- sometimes it was more effective than others. The night was almost over when a swirling tornado of spirits roared down towards Fenton’s car and engulfed it. His vision was completely filled with the roiling mass of ghosts screaming and then, silence. Fenton stepped out of his car and saw where only moments before a suburban neighborhood was now a thick, overgrown forest. As he climbed out of his car, a spirit in a long billowing cloak and wide brimmed hat, on a flaming white horse rode out of the torrent of ghosts down to Fenton.

“Greetings Mortal, I am-”

“The Huntmaster, I assume.”

“I-, uh, yes, The Huntmaster, how did you- whatever, you have been taken by us, The Wild Hunt, to be our prey for this Hunt, if you can survive until dawn, we shall free you. If not, well, you didn’t survive anyway so what does it matter? We will give you a 30 minute head start, good luck mortal.”

“Well, then.” Fenton checks his watch, 1:00 AM. “I would say see you, but I won't.”

Then he ran off towards the woods, keeping low to ground and strafing back and forth

“Run, little mortal! Run as fast as you can!” came the chuckling voice of the Huntmaster, floating after Fenton on the wind.

Fenton ran, keeping close to the trees, he figured that the Hunters would be keeping to the sky. After a while of running, the sound of a rams horn blasted through the woods, closely followed by the characteristic howling of the Hunt. He checked his watch again, 1:30 AM, right on time.

He immediately turned right and kept going, the howling was getting closer, however a quick glance up showed they were going in the line he had been following, hopefully that would throw them off his trail for a while. And then he heard the hounds- howls that sent shivers down his spine. The Hounds of the Hunt. He’d forgotten about them, but there was nothing he could do about it now, so he ran.

He checked his watch, 2:30 now, he wished he had brought something to eat, he could get some food from the berry bushes he occasionally saw, but he didn't want to stop running. Occasionally, he would hear the hunt scream past overhead, and when that happened, he would just hold his breath and pray.

3:00 AM, the hounds were getting closer, fortunately, he found a small stream and was able to cover his scent up somewhat.

4:00 AM, the hunts passes had been growing more frequent, and his legs cried out in pain, begging him to stop, but he couldn't, because if he stopped at all, that was just more distance the Hunters could close on him.

5:00 AM, he had to stop for rest, his lungs were burning, his legs were aching more than he knew was possible, and all the while the screams and howls of the Hunt and their dogs drew ever nearer.

6:00 AM, one hour left, they had caught up to him now, they rained down arrows, spears, even a few musket balls, an arrow caught him in the arm, causing him to stumble, but he kept going.

6:30 AM, the Hunt was right on top of now, a few members had even come down, out of the cloud and riding slightly behind him and tried to catch him lassos and bollas.

6:55 AM, a musket ball caught him in the leg, he fell to the ground, and the storm rushed down upon him. He closed his eyes, accepting his fate, and then, they stopped.

“Congratulations, mortal! You have survived the Hunt. As a reward, we bestow upon thee a hunting knife that shall always find its mark, and any spirit whom you show this to shall always obey thee as per our agreement, you shall be transported back to your realm.” bellowed the Huntmaster.

“I accept your gift.” Fenton replied, taking the knife, gritting his teeth against the pain.

Then, the Hunt descended upon him, and once again his vision was engulfed in swirling spirits and all he could hear was the tormented screaming and then silence. He was back in his car on the same stretch of road, the sun was peeking over the tree line, and his leg and arm were completely healed. Fenton reached into his pocket and drew out the huntmaster’s knife and admired it for a second. The handle was finely carved wood with a leather wrapped grip and ancient norse runes carved into the pommel, the blade was wide and flat, but incredibly sharp. He placed the knife into the cupholder, and drove to the station. When he got back the Operator was waiting out front for him, pacing, as soon as he spotted Fenton he ran over to him, and hugged him tightly, then pulled away just as quickly.

“Sir, you're back, you're safe, I thought…” he trailed off, looking at his feet.

Fenton stood still for a moment, processing.

“I’m fine, they gave me an enchanted knife.”

“Well, welcome back sir, I’m glad you’re safe.”

“I am, too, Op, I am, too.”

Then, Fenton walked into the station to write his report.

“Routine pass of E501, residents told to remain indoors, agent taken by instance to be hunted, agent escaped with no injuries.”

He placed his report in the receptacle, walked to his car- then realised he should be at work now, and walked back inside to his office for another day of work.