They had been living in the water towers. I am not sure for how long they had been waiting, nor how many there are, and to be absolutely forthcoming I have never seen the creatures themselves. I know that they have overrun New York City and I am sure will progress outwards in time. I have long since left the city to a cabin far north in the Catskills, but will no doubt have left here by the time you are reading this. I was with Richard Lindum when we first discovered one of the creatures inside an old wooden water tower that sat on top of an apartment building just off of 71^st and West End Avenue in Manhattan. I feel as if I have a duty to transcribe the discovery as it may act as a bellwether, although you must already know, or perhaps you may be able to glean some insight from my gruesome and terror-addled memories. At least it may serve as a token of my own life and memory among the many that have been so brutally snatched from us.

I had promised Mrs. Lindum, an austere yet polite and civil woman cemented deeply in her ways before she too had to flee the city, that I would refrain from detailing the manner in which Mr. Lindum perished and the nature of his body after the incident. I have kept that promise. Now I am compelled to break it. I am sorry Charlotte, truly I am. I hope you are alive and safe.

Richard and I worked together for the Reynolds Co., one of the two, and the larger of them, companies that built and maintained the water towers scattered about the city. We were called in one late afternoon to inspect the water tower at the aforementioned location and I remember the situation, as it was described to us in a very queer and unusual manner; our supervisor had told us in a skittish voice over the radio that there had been complaints that the water tower was “emitting a rotten egg smell” and our services were required immediately.

After we arrived at the apartment, a ten story sandy building. We touched base briefly with the building’s super, who after describing the horrible smell and the milky white liquid that had been reported to pour out of the tenants’ faucets led us to the freight elevator. It was an antique elevator, the type that boasted two sets of doors, one heavy and solid and the other slated like a fence, with a lever on the inside, all of which I found quite charming and reminded me of my grandparent's apartment. Gaining the top floor the super left behind us back down the elevator as we walked the two remaining flights of stairs to the roof.

The entrance to the roof, unlike the elevator, was modernly equipped and as we pushed through the gray door plastered with the words “FIRE EXIT” and “ALARM WILL SOUND,” the high-pitched screech of the door alarm blared loudly, making our eardrums shake. Richard and I exchanged an annoyed look as we walked out onto the roof.

The smell was so horribly oppressive that both Richard and myself doubled over coughing and gagging. The blaring siren coming from the door continued to ring in the background of my mind, but I could not bother to be annoyed by it anymore as acid lined the inside of my mouth and nasal canals from my stomach. I looked to Richard through strained and teary eyes and he did something that to this day amazed me as I the thought of it would have never crossed my mind had I been on that roof for the rest of the year. Reaching into the inside pocket of his company jacket Richard pulled out a pack of cigarettes and hastily flicked a match, lighting the cigarette and taking a deep consoling breath of smoke. The siren petered off behind us as I looked at him, his face relaxing as he inhaled, after the first heavy drag, he began breathing in more steady and relaxed intervals. He extended the cigarette to me and took another out of his pocket, lighting it as soon as I took the lit one from his hand. I do not consider myself a smoker although I have enjoyed the occasional cigarette, but I doubt many people have been so happy as I was when I put my lips around the skinny brown filter and breathed in the therapeutic smoke. A small cough squeaked out as I puffed. I forced myself to breathe the smoke deeply and as I did the horrible sickly smell melted to a less odious scent that hung about the air.

“Thanks.” I said, happy to no longer inhale whatever substance hung in the air as I grabbed the green duffel full of tools, turning towards the door, which the super had assured us would stay unlocked. I opened it to make sure and I pushed a loose brick in between the door and wall just in case.

Turning towards the water tower, we circled the metal legs looking about to see if there was anything obvious on the outside of the wooden cask. I was, and I am certain Richard was too, wishing that there was some obvious deformity to be found on the outside of the tower that we could assess without having to leave the ground, but we had no such luck. Finding the skinny metal ladder attached to the side of the tower furthest from the door we turned to each other.

“You go first, I’ll bring the tools up after.”

Richard began to climb up the thin ladder, which shook tremulously under his weight. Soon he had pulled himself onto the brown-slatted roof and walked around the top, disappearing from my sight beyond the rim of the cone shaped top. Although Richard had disappeared on to the other side of the tower I could hear his footsteps upon the roof as I began to climb the ladder after him.

“I’ve found the hatch. I’m gonna open it up.”

I heard the tense and aggravated sound of rusted and irritable hinges being pulled open.

“Uggg!” I heard from the top of the tower.

I reached the top and pulled myself up over the ledge.

“You alright?” I heard the faint splash of fluids hitting the ground. Richard had vomited. The malodorous waft of air that groaned forth from the sealed casket quickly worked its way down to me, and already being a bit queasy I vomited as well, falling on my hands and knees next to the edge. I could hear muffled grunts and coughs coming from the other side of the roof. The sun had begun its slow descent to the west and its light titled so that it glared in our faces and cast a long shadow across the roof of the building.

Breathing heavily, I got to my feet and shouted up to Richard, “Are you OK?”

I heard him mumble a few curses and then shout back “Been worse.”

After a short pause, “You need to come see this.”

My heart sank. I grabbed the dark green duffel bag and slung it over my shoulder. I walked about slowly on top of the tower careful to remain as far from the edge as I could as the strain on my head had caused me to become slightly dizzy. Richard was standing on the opposite side of the tower and was peering into the tower’s barrel. It took me a few moments to ensure my footing as I steadied myself deliriously behind him so I could look over his shoulder. Richard was quietly beaming his flashlight into the small square hole in the roof of the tower. As I walked towards him I thought I heard the sloshing of liquid inside the tower.

While I cannot to this day put a finger on the feeling the washed over me as I looked into the shadowy pool, the closest phrase I have found to describe it is disgust that pushes me to anger. At first, it was difficult to see the water, although I could still hear it lapping softly against the walls only a few feet below where we stood. Richard traced the beam of light slowly around the enclosure. I had believed that the white florescence of the flashlight was painting the surface of the water, but after some seconds of silent starting down the beam into the water I realized that the water was tinted an anemic and pallid shade of white that was mixed with a bluish-grey, the sight of which sent of fetid fish and spoiled milk through my mind. Although the white liquid disturbed me greatly and added to my already sickly state, the beam of light that hovered over the walls illuminated something that to this day when I think about it causes me to shiver and feel ill.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

Plastered to the wall of the tower surrounded by a tangle of sinews and blue and purple veins was a milky white shell. It was about a meter long and half as wide and the edges of the carapace were broken unsymmetrically although the edges where the break had happened were smooth. It was obvious that this was only a part of what once was a hideous and large egg. As the light held onto the object, I noticed the veins still throbbed gently, pumping a seedy liquid from disconnected seams about the carapace into the water. For a moment I thought of the tenants in the building and wondered how many of them had ingested any of this horrible substance unwittingly. I did spend long considering them though as something in my gut told me that we should leave immediately. I wanted to walk down the ladder and leave as quickly as possible. I remained silent. Something about Richard’s silence induced me to be the same. As I berated myself to leave, I was halted and my focus was yanked fully towards the basin by the indistinguishable rustle of water different that the melodic lapping against the walls which had been echoing from the basin below. The noise made my ears tingle and my skin flushed from around my spine and face, the sensations meeting at my neck. The sound hung and bounced about the sealed container as Richard directed the beam of light over a small ring of white froth and bubbles that bobbed innocuously at the surface of the water.

“Richard,” cold sweat had begun creeping down my back. “Richard, man, we should go.”

I took a step back. My whole body was tight and my breathing heavy but short. Richard, still crouching on the balls of his feet, turned towards me, his mouth open and ready to say something. It curled silently around Richard’s ankle. I do not know what exactly it was, but its phantom cousin continues to visit my nightmare. It was the same milky color as the pool and dripping a viscous slop that seemed more solid than liquid. I saw the feeler deftly encircle and connect itself in a noose around Richards’ foot, leaving just inches between his skin and its own syrupy reach. I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Richard saw the horror in my face though. He looked down towards his feet. The noose it had set about his ankle snapped.

“Hel-“

It seemed like the word was swept away with him as he was yanked off his feet with a terrible jerk. He rose some three feet into the air by his foot and then was brought back down against the container with incredible force, his face planting right before me. There was a still moment when Richard lay before that my brain stopped perceiving time. My thoughts enjoyed their last unfettered moment, wandering about the city rooftops in the eternity of stillness that moment provided when the sun had begun to set beautifully over the cliffs across the river. The body was yanked back towards the open hatchet and it snapped violently against the edge of the opening. I am certain I heard bones breaking as it vanished through the hatch. I heard one-half groan escape the body before a heavy “plunk” silenced it and told me that Richard and whatever had grabbed him had descended under the water, leaving me physically and mentally frozen. I felt as if I had been watching as someone else who had just watched it all happen.

I could hear the sound of water frothing violently underneath me. A loud slam against the wall that shook the whole tower to its base stirred me from my stupor. Doing my best to ignore the splashing and choked wriggling sounds, I stumbled back across the roof of the tower towards the ladder, kicking the duffel bag off onto the building below. I sped down the ladder as fast as the small rungs would allow me. As I closed towards the bottom there was another heavy smack against the side of the tower on the other side of the ladder that sent shook me inside the metal cage about the ladder. I fell the remaining distance to the ground, I landed hard on my left leg and back. I rose slowly, holding my side as sharp pangs spiked through my chest as I breathed, informing me that I had broken at least one rib. Another jolting crash against the side of the water tower spurred me on. I hobbled for the door, kicking the cement block aside and passed into the stairwell. Painfully taking the stairs as quickly as I could, but winced at every step down I took. Reaching the elevator doors I jammed my finger furiously into the call button.

I heard the soft rumble of the elevator moving many floors below me. The smell had made its way through the open door above and had followed me into the building, but the adrenaline made my sense of smell numb to it. I shook, breathing heavily as I glanced between the stairs and the slatted elevator door. I could hear the metal box rising slowly up towards me as I counted along with the delicate hand above the face of the doors that tracked the progress of the elevator. Three floors. Two Floors. My body continued to fidget as I waited, quivering in pain and distress. The elevator floated up, halting gently and taking a few seconds to settle before the heavy inner doors opened slowly. Grabbing the handle, I pulled open the sliding metal fence, spinning myself quickly round it and through the gap, yanking it closed again in one motion.

The moment of safety that I thought I had achieved was shattered by the shrill piercing sound of the door alarm at the top of the stairwell. I admit that in that moment I screamed. I felt my legs become like air beneath me as my whole body filled with terror and lightness. There were only two elbows on the stairwell and I could hear squishing somethingsteps falling loudly on the stairs. Taking hold of the lever, I thrust it fully backward praying that it would take me down. The elevator groaned and the doors began to grind shut. I lurched to the back wall of the elevator willing the door shut as I watched the stairwell platform through the paneled metal fence, praying that the doors would shut before whatever thing had taken Richard could curl down the steps and towards the elevator. I began to shudder and crumpled down into the corner. Before the steel door erased the stairwell from view, I saw what I promised Charlotte I would never speak to another soul. A pair of legs stepped rigidly and clumsily onto the nearest platform to the elevator. I felt my stomach churn as the figure turned, its movements harsh and convulsive, down the final flight of stairs towards the elevator. I saw past the door for only a moment longer, but I watched in horror as Richard, his jumpsuit soaked and dripping with the same viscous ooze I had seen in the water and falling off of the protrusion, descended down the stairs and towards the elevator. Before I could halt myself I called out his name and it looked at me. I could tell instantly that it did so not as a person in recognition of their name, but in the way beast twitches its head at a sound when it is stalking prey. In that moment I saw his eyes had adopted the same milky white color that I had seen in the pool of water. Now that I imagine it, I do not think he blinked at all. I shamefully admit that I was happy to see him go as the elevator doors closed. In the moment the elevator paused before descending, I heard the outer metal gate rattle furiously and I screamed and wept, shaking like a child as the elevator slid down its shaft.

Upon reaching the lobby of the building I ran full sprint out into the street. I wanted to warn the doorman who I ran past as I bolted out of the building. Turning to him, all I could manage to extricate was a pitiful and indistinguishable moan. I saw his face flicker as I went by, his confusion adapting itself to the fear that chaperoned me out of the building. He shouted something after me, although I did not hear it as the blood pumped a heavy drumming into my ears. I darted quickly into the company truck that Richard and I had came in and parked conveniently and illegally in front of the building. Flying into the front seat, I started the car and sped off.

I fled the city. I only began to reach out to anyone I could think of after I had made it entirely off the island of Manhattan. I know I am a coward, I am sure I could have warned more people, but I do not know how much good it would have done me, hysterics being the nemesis of explanation. I absconded to my cabin in the Catskill Mountains where I now sit as I write this message.

I do not know what happened to the creature that now inhabits Richard Lindum’s body; I have not seen it since I fled. Richard was a good man. Please remember him as such. Although I am a coward, I do not regret my decision to flee. In the hours and days that followed, thousands more creatures swathed across New York City, wearing her citizens like jackets. The city was cutoff from the world; the tunnels and bridges being collapsed to ensure its seclusion.

It did not work and I am sure in the days to come that the creatures will spread further. With that in mind, I have decided to leave. There is a small amount of dried food and water in the pantry if you are in need of it. I pray that this letter may be of some help. It has done no help to me in assuaging my own anxiety and fear. Avoid the water, and run at the hint of anything that smells rotted or spoiled. From what I know these things do not run fast so if it comes to it you should be able to outrun them on foot. I know that is a feeble help, but it is all that I can supply from my own experience.

I am heading southwest to the desert. I have found little rest here in the mountains. Pale shapes and creatures haunt upon the glassy pools of my dreams and when I am awake I sniff about like a madman. I do not know where else the creatures have spawned or how far out of the city they have eloped, but I hope that I can find safety. Good luck to you.

-William Royal