A correspondent has reported a disturbance in San Francisco.
On assignment, taking pictures of the art on the walls in Clarion Alley, he ended up having to run for his life.
It was that time of day, the golden hour, right before the sun is just a bit too dim. Taking pictures of some of the newer graffiti. I was packing up my camera when the sun dipped down and the street lights came on. I had made it back to Mission Street and turned towards 17th. Something caught my eye. A shadow. A person. I started to walk faster.
Other calls were coming in to the main office. We scrambled to try to get someone on the ground to cover it, but we only had our one source, and he was in no place to be giving us updates.
There have been rumours of a monster, or monsters, prowling the streets of the Mission. Everyone reports having heard humming, then a loud scratching echoing all the way to the bay.
I had made it as far as Franklin Square. As I got into my car I could see the shadow following me again. Whipping back and forth behind the other parked cars, hiding in people’s shadows. That’s when the humming starting. Followed by a loud shriek and what sounded like iron being wrenched.
It came flying across Treat Ave. A monster, a giant rat, sticking to the walls.
One of the paintings had come to life. It moved from building to building. 2-Diminsional, floating across the street and along cards, ripping the paint of street signs and car doors, eating it, growing larger.
It was coming after me, destroying all colour in its path, leaving slate grey and bare metal in its path.
Once he reached the San Fran-Oakland Bridge he was able to stop the car and try to take more pictures. All of which captured only a faded city with splotches of blurry rust-proof colours.
As he came into West Oakland, the monster started to move across the bridge, faster and faster. It streaked by Yerba Buena Island.
Pulling on to I5 he made a run for Las Vegas.
I really don’t know what happened to the monster. I stopped in San Leandro, finally feeling safe enough to look behind me. I saw nothing. The humming had stopped and traffic resumed across the bridge.
That radio off, he drove the 8 hours to Las Vegas, non stop – headed for a different kind of monster.