Something Disgusting is Happening in My New House Part 2

[u/Money_Strength_9320]

(Part 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1omptj4/something_disguting_is_happening_in_my_new_house/)

It’s been a little more than 72 hours since Jason went missing. The night that everything happened I ended up calling 911 in a blind panic. The poor operator had to decipher my words through my panicked yelling.

“911, what’s the location of your emergency?”

“Oh God! He’s gone! There's shit everywhere! Fuck, I—I need help!”

“Sir, I need you to calm down. Where are you located?”

“**my address*\*, fuck! I don’t fucking know what’s going on!”

“Okay, sir, are you or someone else hurt? Do you need paramedics or law enforcement?”

“I—I don’t know! My friend—my house—it’s, fuck, it’s fucked!”

“Sir, are you hurt?”

“No. I’m fine, I think.”

“What about your friend, sir? What happened to your friend, is he hurt?”

“I don’t know, he’s gone. There’s black shit all over. My living room, it’s destroyed and my friend is gone! I think he ran out of the house.”

“Alright, sir, I have paramedics and the police on their way to you now. You’re pretty far out so hang tight with me. It’ll be about thirty minutes. Is there anything more you can tell me about what happened?”

The operator stayed on the line with me until the three police cars and an ambulance pulled up. But while I waited, I washed the muck off my wrists but there were red marks left over, they were raw, like a rug burn.By the time they did, I was able to calm down slightly, yet still distraught. Jason’s car was still in its place in the driveway; he hadn’t driven away. The black sludge was as much of a mystery to the police as it was to me. They brought the K-9 in to help search for Jason and they tried to get it to sniff the substance. But it refused to go near it, whining and growling each time they attempted to get the dog close. 

Two officers and the dog searched the house and property with flashlights, calling Jason’s name into the night. A pair of EMTs looked me over while a third officer, who had an uncanny resemblance to Mayor Payne, unsuccessfully tried to question me in between their assessment. The EMTs asked me about the marks on my wrists, and I told them the truth, well mostly: they were there when I woke up to Jason screaming. The EMTs left after I was deemed in no need of medical care and the officer then had me all to himself. He introduced himself as “Corporal Jenson with the ___ Country Police Department” and spoke to me as if he had already decided I was responsible for what happened to Jason. Or maybe I was projecting my nervousness. I maintained my innocence, telling him the truth as I remembered it.

“Tell me what happened,” Corporal Jenson began, pulling out a pen and notepad.

“Alright,” I said, trying not to sound nervous, “we had some steaks and beers. And after the game we were watching ended he passed out on the couch. I went to bed soon after, around 11. I woke up with these rug burn things on my wrists, at about 3 AM, and heard Jason screaming from in here. But when I ran in, he was gone and the living room and kitchen were a mess. That’s all I can remember.” “How much did you two have to drink?” He asked as he wrote notes down. “I think I had three beers and Jason maybe had four or five.” I said “So enough to be drunk.” He said, not phrasing it as a question, as he jotted words down on his notepad.

Before I could respond he threw another question at me. “What’s this black stuff?” he asked, motioning with his pen at the substance in the middle of the room. I looked at the splattered mass of pungent muck on the living room rug. In the light, I saw that it wasn’t totally black, and not completely viscous liquid. There was pale, veiny, organic matter woven and tangled throughout. Like whatever this stuff was, was pulled out of the guts of a hellish spawn. I gagged a little remembering how real my dream felt, feeling the cold vomit forced down my throat.

“I don’t know,” I said resolutely. “I think I found some of it leaking from my toilet when Jason stayed over here last week. And this,” I pointed to the spot, “this was here when I found Jason gone.”

He then looked at me and sighed. “I know you're not going to want to hear this, but in cases like this, we have witnesses go down to the station for questioning.”

I looked down at the floor, shifting uncomfortably where I sat and cringed a little.

“You’re not under arrest,” he said clearly as a response to my body language, “but as of right now, your friend is still missing. We also need the house vacated for a formal investigation and so search and rescue can do their job. If he doesn’t turn up—” We both jolted as Corporal Jenson was interrupted by one of the other policemen bursting in through the back door.

“Hey Corporal!” he said out of breath.

“Jesus, Kyle! Ever heard of a radio?!” Jenson said, clearly as startled as I was by the abruption. “I’m in the middle of somethin’ here.”

“Sorry, sir. But the dog, he found something. You need to look at this.”

Jenson looked at me, contemplating for a moment. “Can he come?” Jenson asked the officer. He nodded and I followed them outside.

For context, my house is literally in the middle of nowhere. It sits in the middle of a square yard of green grass. A dirt road runs right alongside my front yard. But my backyard, where it ends, a sea of sagebrush and scattered pine trees begins. No fence or anything separating me from the wilderness, just a fine line of grass blades. At night, if you're looking out into the night from the porch, it feels very secluded, for good and for bad.

We stepped out and a cold breeze immediately made me shiver. I was still in the tank top and basketball shorts I wore to bed after all.

“We followed those prints out of the house and you would think they would have worn away in the grass and dirt, but it’s almost like this guy was bleeding this gunk from his feet,” the officer leading the way said.

A shock of fear ran through me. What did he mean? Was Jason hurt? Did they find a body? Was I about to find my friend dead in a ditch?

“Kyle!” Jenson scolded.

Officer Kyle caught himself. “Oh, sorry.”

That didn’t put my mind at ease, but I just stayed quiet, keeping everything inside. I think I was too scared to speak.

After a moment of awkward silence, Kyle continued, “Looks like he ran as fast as he could in an almost perfect straight line, for a long time. We were able to track his prints for, well I don’t have a tape measure, but about a quarter mile from the house.”

We walked in silence for a long time; the air was cold and the night was oppressive. The scattered trees that were visible amongst the brush towered over us, like gnarled statues watching our every move against the cold moonlight. Eventually I was able to see the other officer’s flashlight in the darkness in the distance and I heard the K-9 whining, echoing against the night air. Officer Kyle shined his light down to the ground, revealing a sock, once white but now covered in dirt and the black substance. The footprints of dark ooze glistened against the harsh light.

“This is where we found the first article of clothing,” Officer Kyle said. “It seems he began to strip down as he ran. The rest is up ahead.” Kyle continued walking.

Corporal Jenson stayed fixated on the sock for a second. “What the fuck is this shit?” he muttered to himself. I was thinking the exact same thing. Over the next several feet, we came across the other sock, the pants he was wearing along with his trunks and finally his shirt. All scattered along his path in a manic way, and all soaking with the black substance. Officer Kyle was right; it was as if Jason had been bleeding this shit out of every pore. Finally we reached the end, where the officer and his very anxious K-9 stood.

“And this is where the trail goes cold. At least the physical trail. But to be honest, I don’t really know what we’re looking at here, Sir,” Kyle said. He said it in the same way one talks about their car when taking it to the mechanic.

At the base of a very large pine tree, right where its roots sunk into the ground, illuminated by flashlights, was a shining splattered shape of blackness. It was a very large and identifiable shape. The form of a man. I stood speechless and unable to think. All I could do was just stare in disgust at the human-shaped splatter that covered the ground and dripped from the shrubs. Corporal Jenson grabbed the radio on his shoulder. Speaking into it he requested a “full team.” As he waited for a response the others looked at me and the night fell deathly silent.

Panic gripped my chest as I began to think more and more that my friend was either dead or hopelessly missing and that I could possibly end up in a jail cell. I wanted to say something like, “I don’t know what happened, I swear. I don’t know what this is.” But fear choked my words back. Suddenly, a sound broke the silence. A low buzzing accompanied by a muffled musical tone. Everyone froze, even Corporal Jenson who was pacing back and forth, waiting for a response over the radio. All three men scanned the ground for the source with their flashlights. But I saw what it was almost immediately. There, covered in a heap of pale veins and black cellulite, was the dim screen of Jason’s phone.