The Tall Dog of Barrow Heights | Part 2

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Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep 48 min 1 speaker 8 chapters transcribed 5 hours ago
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What is the opening premise and setup of the Barrow Heights case?

James Turnbow 0:00
Part two The house without sleep. My coffin hisses open with a wave of steam. I stumble forward onto my hands and knees, retching onto the hearse's floor. Jesus, June. Shirley steps over me. Her blonde hair in a bun. Couldn't hold it in for five more seconds? Kent shakes his head as he passes. Odds on this one dying tonight? A hundred fucking percent. Bishop Stevenson. She's marching past me with a glare. Ellison following behind, rolling his eyes. Alvarez crouches down, hand on my back. Don't listen to those pendejos. First time riding is always a trip. You'll get used to dying eventually. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, throat burning. Dying? Sure. That's why only pales can ride the hearse. Does something when it punches through dimensions, kills us more or less, stops our hearts, shuts down our brains, the whole deal.
James Turnbow 0:58
He extends his arm, and I watch as the armor flows over his skin like liquid bone, spreading from his elbow down to his fingertips, coating his entire hand in living white carapace. Then it pulses. Once, twice, like a heartbeat. The suits keep us alive, Alvarez continues. Pump our hearts while we're flatlined. They keep the blood moving, oxygen flowing. Probably where the name comes from, actually. Pale. Ha! Like a corpse. Get it? He grins behind his half-formed faceplate. Stevenson barks. Charlie team! Farm the fuck up before I die of old age! That's us, Juno. Alvarez gives me a friendly jab in the shoulder. Come on, finish puking outside. I follow him down the rear ramp, boots hitting gravel. The five of us fan out into formation in front of the bishop.
James Turnbow 1:50
A Victorian mansion looms before us. Its three stories of rotting grandeur, all sharp angles and sagging gables. It sways in the windless night, timber groaning like its breathing. On all sides, a forest gnarled trees presses in, their branches twisted into arthritic claws that scrape at the sky. Nice of you to finally join us, Stevenson says, voice sharper than a scalpel. Alvarez, get this Ricky's head out of his ass. This isn't the cubicle farm he's used to. This is the real deal. Alvarez throws a crisp salute that's somehow still sarcastic. By the end of the night, his suit'll be twenty pounds lighter, ma'am. A ripple of quiet laughter moves through sixth division. It's a known phenomenon. The more trauma a pale experiences while wearing their armor, the deeper it bonds.
James Turnbow 2:39
The suit drinks in your pain, your fear, your brush with death, and in exchange, it fits better, moves smoother, becomes a true second skin. My armor feels like I'm wearing a concrete straight jacket. Alvarez leans close, whispering. Bound earlier. You can relax, Compa. Protocol thirteen just means the Inquisitor bailed. Usually happens after the entity already killed its targets. So there's no one left to save. We're just cleanup. Scorched Earth policy. Think Rambo meets Ghostbusters. I glance back at the mansion, stomach twisting. So the family's already dead? Bingo! Alvarez chuckles. No civilians to evacuate. No witnesses to gaslight. We just burn the whole thing down and call it a night. Something funny, Alvarez.
James Turnbow 3:28
The bishop's suddenly right there, jamming a finger against Alvarez's chest. She's fast, silent. Her armor bond must be next level. No man. This isn't a normal Protocol 13. She hisses, close enough that her forehead nearly touches his nose. It's a real one, jackass. As in there's a dead inquisitor behind those doors. The blood drains from his face. Around us, the rest of Sixth Division goes rigid. Haunted. My throat closes up. But I thought That inquisitors never die? Stevenson wheels on me. Gray eyes flat and merciless. That's exactly what Protocol 13 was designed for. Propaganda. Morale control. To convince the rest of the Order's worker bees that Inquisitors are some kind of mythical heroes. Unlikable James Bond motherfuckers who always save the day.
James Turnbow 4:18
She steps closer. But they're not. They bleed just as red as any of us. She turns back toward the mansion, addressing the squad.

How does the squad organize and fan out for the initial breach of the mansion?

James Turnbow 4:27
Our mission is to recover Inquisitor Torsen's red book. But whatever's inside that house isn't just another paranormal cluster fuck.

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