Speaker 1: Jerysville was a quaint and remarkable, nestled town in the
rolling hills of North Carolina. Its residents went about their
lives for the comfort of only small towns can provide.
Kids bike down main street, Families gather for Sunday dinners,
and the biggest news was often the high school football score.
But that was before, before blind corp, before the sickness,
before Joyceville became something entirely different.
Speaker 2: In recent months, Joyceville has changed in ways that defy explanation.
Strange illnesses cropped up, spreading silently but swiftly. Residents began
acting erratically, losing time, sleep walking, speaking in strange, fractured sentences.
Some blamed the water, others whispered that blind Core Orfe's
mysterious hawk initiative had something to do with it. But
whatever the cause, those whispers soon turned to screams.
Speaker 1: Then one morning, Joyceville simply disappeared.
Speaker 2: Shops that were open and bustling just the day before
now stand empty, their windows shattered and their shelves bare.
Houses lie abandoned, some with doors swinging open, others with
furniture overturned, as if families left in a sudden panicked,
hurry and on the streets. There's only silence, a silence
so thick it feels like it's pressing down on everything.
Speaker 1: At least that's how it was for the first few days.
But soon that silence was broken by something darker.
Speaker 2: Reports of violent crimes started coming out of Joyceville, crimes
that didn't make sense. Local police described unprovoked attacks, but
the details that trickled out were more chilling than that.
Victims described attackers with empty eyes, mouths twisted into unnatural snarls,
their movements jerky and animalistic. They weren't just committing crimes,
they were hunting, hunting anyone unfortunate enough to cross their path.
Witnesses those few who made it out whispered of people
who seemed possessed, not human, as if something else was
moving their limbs.
Speaker 3: It's like they're not even alive anymore, said.
Speaker 1: One survivor, a gas station attendant who managed to escape
on foot.
Speaker 4: Their eyes there was nothing there.
Speaker 3: It was like they didn't even recognize me, like I
was just meet today.
Speaker 2: RPN's Gloria Hillard was the first reporter to arrive in
Joyceville since the evacuation orders were issued. She's walking through
the desolate streets, recording her impressions of the scene. Her
voice is steady, but edged with a palpable tension.
Speaker 1: It's eerie, no sound, no movement, just emptiness. Joyce Bell
looks like it's beinstall at hole that the blinds in
the windows are fluttered her. The paint on the buildings
already feels like it's faded somehow, and almost as if
the town itself has been drained from all its life.
Speaker 2: Suddenly, a noise breaks the silence, a shuffling, skittering sound
coming from a nearby alleyway. Hillard's voice wavers for a
second as she regains her composure.
Speaker 1: We've got movement here, just a shadow.
Speaker 2: But her breath catches as the figure emerges into the daylight.
A person or something that used to be a person.
Its clothes are torn, It's skin in pale and mottled.
It stumbles forward, eyes hollow and unseeing, mouth twitching in
a feral grimace.
Speaker 1: Okay, that there's someone here. They don't they don't look normal.
They're okay, they're moving closer. I'm just I'm just going
to excuse.
Speaker 4: Me, excuse me.
Speaker 2: Suddenly, more figures appear, emerging from doorways, crawling out from
the shadows, dozens of them, all with the same empty gaze,
the same jerky, predatory movements. They start toward her, their
steps unsteady at first, then quickening into a relentless, unnatural stride.
Speaker 1: Okay, okay, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. There's there's more
of them said, They don't okay okay, fu fuckuck.
Speaker 2: She says, her breathing now audible and rapid.
Speaker 1: Oh oh sorry, where's ah?
Speaker 5: She has?
Speaker 2: Transmission crackles as she breaks into a rum. Her breaths
come in quick, gasping bursts as she scrambles through the streets,
her microphone picking up every frantic step, every panicked heartbeat.
Speaker 1: If anyone's listening, I am an enjoys bill. They're They're,
They're everywhere. They're crimen from all sikes.
Speaker 2: Another pause, the rustle of feet, the sound of her panting.
Then her voice drops to a terrified whisper.
Speaker 1: God, snowbirds left to go.
Speaker 2: A sudden violent clatter, a scream, the sound of flesh
hitting pavement. Her microphone falls to the ground, recording only
the last few moments of struggle. The dull thud of bodies,
the guttural growls, and finally silence. The broadcast cuts out.
Joyceville remains lost to the world, and no one knows
what dark fate awaits anyone who dares to enter its
haunted streets.
Speaker 5: Welcome to Excuses. The podcast appeals back the layers of
a small town life, uncovering the hidden horrors lurking just
beneath the surface of Joyceville, North Carolina, from the tale
of a queen little diner to the chilling corporate secrets
of Blind Corp. This is in your ordinary postpacalleptic survival story. No,
this is something much darker, much weirder, much funnier, perhaps
all from the perspective of the only survivor. You'll dive
into a quirky, fragmented recollection of chaos and growing dread
that led to joy Spell's downfall. Oh and a little
bit of warning before we get started. Excuse Us contains
mature content intended for a mature audience. Strong language, and
let's just say, a rather twisted sense of humor is
intended that their indiscretion is definitely advised.
Speaker 4: Six months six months in this box, the color Room,
I've coun to each one of those days, measured by
the ways the days and nights bled together. Lost in
this artificial hum of overhead lights, to the never dim,
never flicker. I've become numb to the constant hum of
the bends, the recycled air that tastes like nothing, smells
like nothing, the walls gray, metallic and dull, which is
high enough to make me feel like a rat in
a cage. They've given me a cot shoved into one corner,
barely softer than the floor. A paper then blanket was
all the warmth I've had, though I've learned earlier that
warmth didn't mean much down here. Across from me, They've
home some kind of motivational poster, as if it would
help my spirits somehow. It says, keep climbing until you
can't climb anymore. Those words mocked me, allah and peeling
at the edges, like just like everything else in here,
I'd catch myself staring at that hit, sometimes feeling their resentment,
pilting climb until you can't anymore. Sure, I couldn't afford
to liligate to me, not if I want to know
keep the charade. I spend half a year playing the
perfect person er, the harmless obedian woman. They thought they
locked up way that they know who they're dealing with.
They thought they had Catherine Nindee, the franchise owner of
the super Awesome diner, and the messy, troubled old sister
of the real player in the game. They didn't know
who I really was, but I was careful, too careful.
Probably I couldn't risk ludd'um know the truth or let
us slip out. Six months are pretending to be someone else,
someone softer, weaker. I wore the mask well, but every
day'd feel heavier every word and act. I kept my
voice low and getting steady, hiding the fire behind a
carefully crafted smile. Who am I really? The walls knew
the real me, though, if they were to care to listen.
Every once in a while, I felt the truth growing
its way to the surface, begging to spill out into
the sterile and feeling room. But I never let it.
Not yet Today huzzah, something shifted, a faint click, the
sound you've almost missed if you were desperate to hear
anything other than your own breath. My brose listening watching us,
the door on my shell. Correct some only open. I blinked, barely,
believing it to silver of the hallway light filled into
an invitation. I felt like an invitation, but I didn't
move right away. I didn't want to give them the
satisfaction of this soon how being a test, I waited,
counted to five, and then slowly I stepped down. I
had to bite back. I had to bite back a laugh,
loose like I still have someone in my corner, I
muttered under my breath. Someone out there hadn't forgotted me,
after all, I still had a friend. And then I
saw it, a small key car laying on the floor
just outside my cell, A sign a divination, something like
an omen from a friend. My fingers close around it
before had the chinche to think yank, I whispered, pocketed
him at my the mice my sleeves with a smirk.
Whoever left it this little present didn't know just how
far I will thee willing to go with it, or
maybe they get and maybe they want me to The
elevator at the end of the hall was waiting, doors
wide open, the lithe inside cascading a faint glow into
the dim door and to the corridor. I walked toward it,
my steps measured, each one, carrying me further and further
from that cell, that poster, the hallow cage to try
to burn me. And I stepped into the elevator, letting
the doors close with a final, satisfying click. I stared
at my reflection in the narror panel, letting a grin
stretch across my face, letting the real be show just
for a second, and then I thought, I will climb.
I will climb until I can't climb anymore. Doris stands
across the room, her posture tense, her hand hovers over
the gun at her waist, and her eyes are fixed
on Thomas with a strange mix of reverence and disdain.
Speaker 6: You know, Thomas, but then always know by Wilson. That
name was a gift, a parting token from my Linda. Gordonza,
that's their real name. He'll die with you tonight, Cordonza,
What door is?
Speaker 3: What are you talking about?
Speaker 6: Glinda was the one, the one who opened my eyes
to the fold. She showed me the truth of blind
Corps dream. I watched her transform ad I watched her
rise to the audience's call, vigilant, hungry for more, as
Joysville began to fall apart.
Speaker 4: She smiles, the memory almost fond.
Speaker 3: Okay, the fuck is going on you? You've started to
freak me out.
Speaker 6: Do you know what it's like, Thomas, to see the
person you love the most ascend? Fucking could to become
part of something much larger. When Linda became one of them,
one of the chosen few, I knew Blind Corps Vision
was the only path forward. Joysville needed cleansing, and were
honored to be part of it.
Speaker 4: Thomas stares at her, horrified. The piece is slowly coming together.
Speaker 3: Okay, you were saying you wanted this, You wanted the
people here to suffer, to turn, to become audience members.
What the fuck door is?
Speaker 6: No, you silly, silly man. It's not suffering, Thomas. It's progress, transformation,
the hawk salvation. It's a gift. Vinecorp is forgiving. It's
forging a future where humanity evolves, where the weak and
broken become part of something unbreakable. I watched my Linda.
She ascended, and I couldn't be prouder.
Speaker 4: Thomas clenches his fists, visibly shaken. He begins to back away,
but steps forward, her hand resting on her gun.
Speaker 6: You don't get it, do you. The Fold doesn't tolerate dissent.
It is our duty to root out traders, to keep
division pure. And you, Thomas, you've gone soft, asking too
many questions, looking into too many things outside of our purview.
I can see it in your eyes. You're no longer
one of us.
Speaker 4: She raises her gun, her face twisted and grim determination.
Speaker 6: I there to say you were never one of us.
Who do you really work for? Thomas, the government, some
small town journal, NPR? Tell me who do you work for?
Speaker 4: Thomas's hand shifts to his weapon, but he hesitates, staring
at Doris with pity and revulsion.
Speaker 3: Doris, I cam here, hoping to find something worth saving,
maybe a way to make up for my own sins.
I've done things, stupid, horrible things that I can never
take back. But blank Orb has shown this, this Fold,
it talks to you. It's it's a disease, it's sickness.
And now now joysvel just just's just another sacrifice on
your altar. This whole secmentace fucked, Doris.
Speaker 4: Doris's eyes flash with anger.
Speaker 6: Tell me now, tom Bowman, sacrifice sacrifice, that's why you
make when you truly believe in something, Thomas. You think
I wanted to lose Linda, to see her a sin,
But I did it because I believe. I believe in
blank Orp's dream, her future beyond pain, beyond doubt, a
world without Nicholas.
Speaker 4: Her grip tightens on her gun, her voice dropping to
a low, deadly whisper.
Speaker 6: That means eliminating those who stray shall be.
Speaker 4: In a swift motion, Doris raises her gun, but Thomas,
fueled by desperation and instinct, draws faster. The shot rings out,
echoing through the empty room. Doris staggers, a look of
surprise flickering across her face as she stumbles backward, hand
clutching her side.
Speaker 6: He who wasn't supposed durah and like there is.
Speaker 4: She collapses to the ground, her breathing shallow, eyes wide
and distant. Thomas stands over her, his gun still raised, trembling.
Speaker 3: I came here hoping that somehow, some way, my family
might still be alive, my son, my wife. If there
is still out there me, there's a chance of redemption,
a chance to start over. But you, you're you're far too gone.
Speaker 4: He kneels beside her, watching as the life fades from
her eyes.
Speaker 6: The audience They're always watching, always listening, Thomas, the audience,
They'll never stop.
Speaker 4: With one final breath.
Speaker 3: British Chip, it's time to finish this.
Speaker 4: With one final breath.
Speaker 6: Don't let be your side for blank Lip.
Speaker 4: With one final breath, her eyes glaze over and she
falls silent.
Speaker 3: For Joey spill for everyone.
Speaker 4: Thomas stands looking down at her with a deep, lingering sorrow.
Speaker 3: Fuck my day when totally not how he expected it. This,
this is just going to ruin. This has ruin my day.
Speaker 4: My idea is fucked now a fallen devotee of a
cause that consumed her. This episode is made possible by
listeners like you. Visit our website at lifdesign dot net,
forward slash excuse Us.
Speaker 7: For support or additional information, please visit our website or
paycheon page at Peycheon dot com. Forward slash rod.
Speaker 4: Pull Art Tonight's production of Excuse Us, a mystery drama
with delightful undertones of humor and elder torr.
Speaker 7: What's produced by Rebecca Lakepool and Rodrigo Pool, Written and
directed and performed by Rodrigo Pool in association with R
and R Side audio.
Speaker 4: Theater music and sound effects by Epidemic Sound so all
their sound effects we are recorded live on set voice
modulation by eleven laps. If you're enjoying this production, please
make sure to review or subscribe to our show Wherever
you listen to your podcast.
Speaker 7: Check out our Patreon page for bonus content.
Speaker 4: Until next time, this is Rodrigo.
Speaker 7: Paul saying thank you very much for listening.
Speaker 2: Fuck