. . . regular looking guy–slacks, shirt, and a tie–classic middle-management. He set down his briefcase and stretched out his arms. Next I know, he’s shouting a bunch of gibberish and waving his hands around, then he just picked up his briefcase and casually walked away.
This weird rippling started, vertical and very narrow, standing from the sidewalk to about a foot in the air, then it turned black and widened a little–like a short door opening into a dark room. These damn centipedes came pouring out, dozens of them–huge too–some as big as small dogs.
They started crawling all over people, including me, and it hurt like hell. The legs stuck in me like giant fish hooks. If people weren’t screaming in pain, they were screaming in terror. Some pulled out pistols and started blasting at the things.
You folks got here before any other first responders, damn fast. You a private outfit? I’ve never seen a green and black ambulance with a green triangle logo before.—Walter Walker, to paramedics, immediately prior to his disappearance.
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