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Again, it Begins

1922, Mount Airy MD
Rot, rodents, and refuse litter the forlorn grounds

The State has issued a clean up order to the investment company seeking to develop the land in the rapture of post-World War I America.
The company operates under the name
Hillfizzle and Hogbottom Brothers

....H&H Brothers to most

H&H, seeking to keep costs at a bare minimum, sends unskilled hired hands to begin the clean up. The men, mostly doughboys, returning from the hard and steely trenches of Europe, know nothing better of their work, and haphazardly engage in the mindless toil. Their days see them dumping barrels, waste, bottles, garbage, and remnants of past lives together into large piles for future incineration. They have no way to fathom the Hell they create. They are farmers, carpenters, machinists, torn from their lives by the horror of war. And the War Department could scarcely be bothered to match their competence to the work. Even now, the plod toward another War was underway.

Long since discarded and forgotten bottles and containers bearing of all manner of toxin, poison, and disease are combined...the entrails of macabre experimentation to stem the filth and disease which riddled the children a century prior.

Over time...days, weeks, the cocktail forms an apothecary's blend of seething night terrors, delusion, and panic...simmering...coalescing....becoming...

Thursday morning, before the sun has cleared South Mountain to the West, the dairy farmer begins his slow muse through town, delivering the fresh creams and milks to nourish the teams of men, still sleeping in the shacks they call home

What he saw that day mankind will never learn. For the only history that speaks is the sullen muttered ramblings of Deacon Dougherty, who, on rising to prepare for service, heard only a muffled shriek before looking from his window on Main Street.

The glow of fires from Garrett chilled him - his soul aware it was seeing the very fruits of Hell

A Devils brew of horrors was unfolding.

Mount Airy, nor the deacon, would ever be the same

1948, Mount Airy MD
The Garrett Sanitarium has sat empty, and largely unmolested for over 25 years.
Mary Garrett, the loving soul who so patiently aided the children of the facility has long passed.
The well-intentioned heroes of a foreign war - lives snuffed by the scourge - are now but whispered recollections
The good and kindness that happened there has been tossed and scattered with the breezes that caress the gentle slope of Parr's Ridge
The long feared and avoided clean up has begun

Dread lingers

For so many, the questions burn...
What of the Contagion?
What of us?