Behold

By Ravyn Karasu

Secure. Contain. Protect.

 

The SCP Foundation strives to contain, study, understand, and if necessary, neutralize the world's anomalies, be they creatures, people, objects, places, or concepts.

 

Collin Dillard was a homeless, misshapen nobody when he was procured by the SCP Foundation. His days seemed numbered until he encountered one particular anomaly known as SCP-096. One fateful meeting would be the beginning of something new and life-changing for the both of them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ravyn Karasu
• Release date: May 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393116356

Book preview

Acquisition

Collin Dillard was a man who had lived a long and ragged life. He had made many mistakes in his life. Could he ever say that he had lived it fully? There were countless days that had amassed in his past, and yet he wasn’t sure if he could truly say that he had lived his life rather than exist through it, a passenger on life’s long train, taking for granted his longevity. These days, that train had long since left him behind, and he merely existed in a heap here and a heap there. It was a miserable existence: a piece of trash beside the alleyway dumpsters. How had it come to this? Where had he lost the control and the will to be a human being?

Where was he now? He had a headache. Damn hangovers. He wore his smelly, stained jacket, ripped up jeans, and a ratty beanie on his head. He was a scraggily creature: thin, unkempt, unhygienic, wild tatters of what was left of his hair and a coarse beard that held onto spittle and crumbs like desperate tentacles. His eyes, half-lidded and empty, stared into nothingness, for nothingness was all he had ever known.

He heard the retching nearby of another homeless man vomiting into a trash can—or he thought so. It could have been right out in the open and/or on the ground. He’d never know the difference until he was close enough to smell it or step in it. He did not want to smell it. He had already gulped down the last of his whiskey the night before and smelling it in the vomit was not something he wanted to experience.

There were many like him. Some were into drugs. Some were into alcohol. Some were into both and some were into neither, but on the hardest of circumstances. Out in these streets, in alleyways, in parks and under overpasses, and in the tent towns, there was no room for judgement. Some of the people had been veterans, glorified for war and then forgotten once their duties were over and done. There were others with mental issues. Many a time, he could hear a man or woman talking to themselves or muttering about this paranoid delusion or other. It certainly was not ideal living or an ideal community, but Collin had made his peace with this and his misery.

He was different from most of these people. They had bad teeth, bad hygiene, and maybe a few other imperfections they could use towards their pity when pan handling. Collin did not have that luck. He had a lot of scarring, a disfigured face, and a twisted body. Rather than pity, it brought about a lot of unpleasant names from Sloth to Elephant Man, though he did not really resemble either. Others called him an inbred hick once they heard him speak. So, he kept to himself, even among these outcasts.

When the strange men came, it was cold and wet. Collin did not know their voices, but they sounded a lot like the cops that would often chase the homeless away. It did not sound as if they were being shooed this time but wrangled. Collin was not sure what was going on, but he felt the bodies closing in and passing, heard the doors of vehicles closing and then a hand was rested on his shoulder.

Hey, come with us, Fella.

Who’s yunz? Collin asked with a grunt as he yanked his arm away. I ain’t done nothin’ wrong.

You’d rather stay out with the rain coming in? Wouldn’t rather have some place warm? Get food?

I don’t wanna hear no preacher givin’ me the bullshit, he snapped. You churchies are like leeches!

The man sighed, Well, would you like us to take you to a relative or something?

Ain’t no family. Ain’t no friends. Just me and this ugly mug. Yunz wanna gawk at it some more? I’m sure yunz been starin’!

After a moment, a second man approached, and the pair lifted Collin to his feet. He was a bit ornery to say the least. He did not know who these men were, what they were doing, where they were taking him—.

He fussed as he was dragged along. He muttered mumbled swears, or perhaps they were just random sounds meant to stand in for swears. He was lifted onto a vehicle. He could tell it was a vehicle by the bounce and the sounds of the inside. Specifically, it was a van—a work van of some sort. Sitting along the side, he could tell it had no window where he and the other homeless pickups sat. The smell had little room to escape, and it permeated heavily. Trash, body odor, soiled clothing, it mixed all together, creating a foul stench for unprepared noses, and perhaps a few of themselves as well.

Once the van was closed and the vibrations of its activation rumbled through them, Collin was quiet and listened carefully to some of the others. Most of them slurred, still either drunk or heavily hung over. He just hoped nobody vomited on him. There was little room to move around, which was probably why he could still feel bodies so near. Few ever wanted to be close to him. He did not exactly have the most welcoming of appearances. He was a disgusting mess due to his circumstances, real and brought onto himself alike. He was a monster to look upon, even in his better days. Nowadays, he was beyond filth. In some ways, he was better off than his current companions, and in some ways, he was worse.

These strange men had not told them where they were going. Some still questioned, but Collin had decided a docile nature was more useful. Wherever they were going, they could not really escape now, at least he couldn’t. Be it a jail, a church, or a shelter, he decided that there was nothing to do but accept this ride. He did not exactly have many options open to him, fewer than the others who could at least find their way. Not Collin.

The drive had been a long one. He was eager for the nasty, cheap bitterness of a free coffee. Bitter bean water is all it was, and he had become accustomed to that. He felt ill, though not just from the remnants of the hangover. He had not eaten since the previous evening. The doors on the back of the van opened after it had finally stopped. It idled, but the feeling of finality was there. The men came in to haul off the others that were with him. They were carried and herded, and though Collin heard them and felt them, he did not move. He could not, not in this strange place. Collin turned to the open back, blinking blankly towards a pair of men, his captors.

I ain’t got very good kidneys, he stated, both as a warning, in case these were organ harvesters of urban legends, but also in a form of good humor to show his more agreeable mood towards them, whomever they would be. His voice was raspy, as if he had been a chain smoker since birth.

The men, they hadn’t bothered to say much to him. Orders primarily. Collin had attempted to ask questions, but he was given no answers. There were only brisk demands and pushes. He was taken to a room and told to sit, which he did. There was a very cold feeling, an open smell. It was like—a hospital? There was a clean and organized something to it. The seat was a metal bench, hard and uncomfortable. However, the air was dry. This place wasn’t a loading dock or alleyway, nor was it even some abandoned property filled with squatters and crackheads. Well, if it were full of such people, he’d not know. No, this felt similar to a school gymnasium or an emergency room. He assumed the latter since he heard the call for staff and doctors on the intercom system. It made Collin less frightened, but it also made him quite curious. Where was he and what was going on? Did he look so terrible that he was brought to this strange place for medical care?

After a half hour, or maybe an hour (it was a little hard to tell), heavy footsteps approached and prompted Collin to lift his head and stare blankly towards the sound. When the heavy steps stopped, lighter ones could be heard. Two people, different types of people.

Are yunz a doctor? Collin ventured.

I am, came a reply.

What’s about yer lead-foot?

Lead—? The doctor looked to the armed guard and chuckled. I am accompanied by Agent Kirkland. Don’t let him intimidate you. If you behave, there should be no need for him to step in. He returned his gaze to the misshapen man, What is your name, Sir?

My name? Why yunz wanna know that?

Just answer the question, Agent Kirkland ordered sternly.

Hmph! Name’s Collin Dillard. Where’s I at? Is this a hospital or somethin’? Which hospital? I don’t like bein’ in unfamiliar places. These days, it’s harder to get around.

Do you have any family that might be looking for you? The doctor asked, ignoring the questions posed back at him.

None I knows about, Collin replied. If they still around, they dun think I’m dead already. I haven’t seen ‘em in Lord knows how long. So long ago. They ain’t too happy with the likes a’me. Don’t much know how long it’s been. Every day, it’s the same, Doc. Mornin’ and nighttime. Hot days, cold days. Ain’t keepin’ them accounted.

The doctor was quiet for a moment. This one was quite a mess. Finally, he cleared his throat, "Ahem! Mr. Dillard, would you be so kind as to follow me. I’d like to get a good look at you."

I’m sorry, Doc, but I ain’t no idea where’s I at. I ain’t seein’ no good. Ain’t never.

The doctor let out a long sigh. Help him.

To that, the soldier reached out and took hold of Collin’s wrist and urged him up. He led him along behind the doctor into another room full of other rooms, indeed similar to an emergency room. He was guided along into one and a door slid shut behind them. The soldier then helped Collin onto an examination table. The old blind man motioned as if he was chewing, gumming his yellowed teeth, or those he had left.

What’s this all about, Doc? He finally asked.

I am Dr. Gerald Kingsly, he replied. I’ll be evaluating you.

"Evaluatin’? Like some rehab clinic? Well, I suppose I dun be needin’ one. Ain’t much addicted to things, but more like I make a lot of bad choices. Seems my lot in life. Was bad in my younger years. I’m sure I dun screwed myself up real bad. Started out a little poorly, now I is a lot poorlier."

Do you have addictions, then? Dr. Kingsly asked curiously as he clipped some papers onto his clipboard.

"Well, I used ta do all kinds of drugs when I was younger. I also drank me a lot. I still do stuff from time ta time. Ain’t addicted, don’t think. But I guess yunz need ta know that. I am a smoker though. Don’t get ta find cigarettes much though. So, them’s be like treats ta me now. Again, not a good habit, but yet another poor choice a’mine."

How old are you, Mr. Dillard? Dr. Kingsly asked.

Don’t really know anymore, he replied. I dun lost count a while back. Drugs didn’t help none. Blackouts and lost time, y’know. Trips that lasted for days—hoo, had me some wild days way back when. So, ain’t sure how long I’ve been around.

Do you—know your birthday? Dr. Kingsly asked hopefully. Collin may not have known his age, but Dr. Kingsley could easily figure it out.

March ninth, he replied. 1939.

You are—fifty-three years old, Mr. Dillard.

Git outta here! He laughed. What’s the year?!

1992, Mr. Dillard.

"Well, hell, time dun really did run away with me, didn’t it?!"

Another sigh escaped the doctor as he scribbled down the information. Do you know if you have any diagnosed health issues? Diabetes? Heart troubles?

Not that I know of, Collin said with a shake of his head. Yunz will have to look inta that yerself. Anythin’ could be wrong with me by now. Ain’t lived no healthy lifestyle, as I’ve said.

Well, we will be giving you a thorough physical and run tests on you, so we will know what we’re dealing with.

Is it worth all the trouble? Agent Kirkland asked.

Yes! Dr. Kingsly snapped. "We must know these things. Everything will mean nothing if we do not know the health of our—guests."

I don’t mean ta be pushy here, Doc, Collin interjected between them, "But, I’m a might bit hungry. Will I be

Reviews for Behold

[Erin Steele · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Everything about this is perfect! From the perfect character growth of Collin to the colorful cast of agents and doctors, this is definitely the best book I’ve read this year, and in my top ten books period. My only issue with it is that 049’s cloak and beak is described as cloths, when it is actually a part of him.