The Rider

It was May 15th, 2011... the day it all began.

Whatever it was, it had been risen for at least a month. It rode in to town on a white horse, stopping traffic everywhere it went. People swerved, unnerved at the strange appearance. It had the pale face of a man, the long robe of a man, but the presence of ether. Ever encroaching on its desired location, almost completely disregarding any obstacle, man, car or building in its path, it had slowly trudged its way toward the western-most part of the town. Carlston Rock. A small peak, overlooking the entire town.  By this point, local law enforcement were out in parade, there was a small media frenzy, not to mention every single yokel for miles wanted to come catch a glimpse of this strange, pale rider.

For several hours the officers stood watch, in an unflinching display of paranoia. "Get the EOD down here.". The bomb committee came out in their droves in an attempt to ascertain whether or not this rider was about to explode in to flames. As the three officers suited up, an attempt at negotiations was made. A young officer approached the rider with caution, her stance calm, her feet steady and well metered. "We don't have to have trouble here, do we?" she posed, to no answer. The bomb squad flanked behind her, as their unit closed in on him.

The Rider seemed oblivious to the attempts being made to reach out to him. The bomb squad already had their hands on his horse, and the negotiating officer had her hand on top of his. "Sir, we-". She stopped. They all stopped. She looked down at her hand. It had sunken straight through his. Not through flesh, but through a bloody hole in this palm. She looked up at him with inquisition, "What has happened to your hand, sir?".

The rider looked at her deep in the eyes, and began to dismount, willingly allowing the bomb squad to feel his torso, which was deemed "miraculously unexplosive" by one officer. He allowed the officer to escort him in to the heaving throng of onlookers, which had begun to surround the vehicles. Many reached out to touch him, as if to experience this strange man. He was much taller than she was, many of the hands went right over her head, forcing her gaze to the floor.

She began to feel it rain. Only small drops at first, and then it started flowing slightly harder. Someone screamed, she lost her grip on him, and began to force her head up through the hands. As she moved through the fleshy canopy, she realised. It wasn't rain. The man had began to chew off the fingers, and bite the arms and faces of every thing around him. It was blood. She reached for her sidearm, when the rider turned. White of eye, pallid flesh, white robe now thick with blood. She struggled in the ensuing surge to get a clear shot, but it was too late, people ran, on top of each other. Through the blur of shirts, she began to see it slowly turn to a red mist. The people the rider was biting, were biting others. She turned and saw a fellow officer, spurting blood from a deep neck wound. She prepared to aid, but he made his move before she could even speak. He was bounding, white of eye, drenched in blood. She fired several rounds, two of which went wild and smashed through the crowd. Still, she tagged the officer in the shoulder, and he went down. But not for long.

She swerved round to see that behind her had become a chase, the Rider himself was no where to be seen.

She ran to the car, as her downed colleague rose to his knees and choked up more blood. It was unlocked. Easy, she opened the door, and sealed it as quick as day. Her colleague smashed on the windows several times, before someone else ran past. He went after them instead. She started the car and began to reverse. She looked behind, and as she pressed the gas, she could feel her reversing over bodies and equipment.

She put the car in drive, and turned to the front. Then she saw him. The rider. Now on his horse. Was staring her down, as the fresh blood dripped excitedly from his mouth. The pigment of his eyes, the sheeny whiteness, felt as though it was staring right through her. She prepared to swerve around, as the rider began to give chase. Under the wheels, shards of bone, camera equipment and human detritus flecked out at all angles. This was hell on earth.

The car went to 60 quick enough, as she mercilessly plowed out of the vicinity, the rider following the path that she was carving out. The screams of the fallen began to fade away as she reached the clear stretch of road away from Carlston Rock. The only thing left, was the distant sound of hooves. Was he pursuing her? Definitely. But did he want to catch her? Not necessarily. He was keeping a steady pace behind her. He was following her.

"This is Officer Chambler, I need back, I am heading East on the I-20. Immediate back up is required, Carlston Rock is a massacre, multiple casualti-" She choked as the reply came through, clear as crystal.

"This is dispatch, back up ETA Twe-" The signal broke off.

She tried the radio several more times. The hooves behind her had stopped. She was alone, at least for now. She had to wait for back up. What if she missed them? What if she passed an exit they were bound for? They'd be coming straight to Carlston Rock, she couldn't have been that far out. She slowed, and turned the car to the left, so as to provide her with cover. She grabbed the Remington Shotgun in the back of the car, cocked it, and knelt behind the hood, poised and firmly aiming where the Rider had been some minutes ago.

She could hear him now. The slow trotting of the hooves. The distant shudder of his breath. He came up the road, much as he had come down it: passively, yet with a grim sense of intention. His eyes were focussed. Not on her, but straight ahead. She began to sweat, her knees felt like jelly, but her reflexes were on full alert, she would not be bested. "Stay where you are, or I'm gonna cut you in half" she bellowed.

He stopped.

Had he listened? He began to dismount. Her grip tightened on the trigger. Walking gently towards her, his eyes began to fixate on hers. He opened his mouth, in to a wry smile, and held both his hands skyward. They both had holes through the palms. "Stay where you are. Stop right there". He stopped. He looked at her, his white eyes never once moving of shaking. He just looked. Dead ahead. "What do you want?!".

He choked a breath down. Smiled even wider. Then began to walk towards her.

CLACK. The shotgun kicked back, and suddenly his knee was all over the floor. She cocked it again, and rose to her feet. She approached him slowly, her iron sights never leaving her target. He made no sound, he just writhed.

She was 2 metres from his body when he began to get back up. She peeled off two more rounds in to his chest, to no effect. His blood stained robe merely tore to pieces, but no blood seemed to flow forth from his wounds. As he stood, he motioned for her to remain calm, something that was at the bottom of her agenda. She continued to fire until she had wasted her ammunition.

She was almost in tears, but she was frozen to the spot. He opened his mouth.

"I am come again. Sumerian, Israelite, Babylonian, Alpha and Omega, all."

His voice was deep and ancient.

Behind him, she could see the bloodied crowd racing towards them, up the road. Amongst them, her colleague, and EOD members...she looked at this arctic frost eyes. He stared right back.

"What the fuck are you?" She seethed.

"I am the son, risen again. The original. The giver and taker of life. And this, is the end".

She could feel the tears begin in her eyes. The fear permeated her gut, but she still had everything to lose.

"And now, you shall take me where ever I must go".