This is the last transmission..Please if you receive this message stay inside. Repeat..STAY INSIDE! Do not go outdoors. There's horrible things out there.

Here’s how it started. I was running all night, and I ended up at a campfire. The people seemed normal enough. I sat down, shared some scraps of bread, a nip of water, and a few pleasantries. They welcomed me warmly, and I honestly couldn't believe it. I'd lost track of time, and I can't even remember the last time someone was that nice to me. They even showed me a small ditch where I could sleep. I used a warm blanket like a covering above the hole. I fell asleep fast, but I was awakened even faster.

That's when I witnessed Grimace. I'd heard tales about them, but I'd never seen them. They were every bit as imposing as the stories hinted. In fact, that campfire lore didn't do them any justice. They were painted like barbarians a la Attila The Hun or The Road Warrior. No, they were nothing like that. I don't think words can describe how evil they look.

What I saw I couldn't un-see. There's no amount of prayer or reflection that can erase it. Contrition won't work in this case either. I'm damned for even opening my eyes under the blanket. I heard them first. There's a sound when they emerge. A rotting voice resounds like clattering and gnashing guitars, thrashing about an almost orchestral percussive and bass din.

They eviscerated everybody in the camp. They dragged the entrails out of a woman and wrapped them around her neck until her last gasp puffed into the desert sky. Blood poured out of her eyes as her own guts choked her. They impaled the man on a gigantic piece of metal. It split him down the middle and the foursome began chopping on the loose skin of his stomach as blood poured down to the ground. God help me. They cut a teenage girl in half. They saved the old man for last. They picked out his eyes with shivs and ate them, laughing and dancing underneath a full moon. Tears welled up in my eyes, but damn me for holding back a sound. After the girl, I cowered down below until the sound went away.

The pockets of the living across the scorched earth trade stories about them. Words like "Cannibalism" and "Murder" are bandied about as their name is mentioned even in the most passing of conversations. The only one "passing" though is anybody who gets in their way. They live off the flesh of others, imbibing their souls. They carry cages with the living who pray for nothing but the end.

Their gospel of violence is coded onto a recording of four tracks. Mine is the only witness account and, if they find it, they'll surely destroy me. Those are all my memories, and they certainly don't matter to Grimace.

Here's what does matter. You'll hear them when they're upon you, and you should be ready. They might let you live to spread the word about the sounds you heard; or they might just consume everything you are. Either way, their battle cry will rattle in your mind forever.


Evan Severed
Erik Tisinger
Colin Reed
Chase Brickenden


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