Consequence

by C R Langille

  “Mommy!” Sebastian said, as he clung to the doorjamb. “Come on, you have to get out of there!”

  Evard tried to tell him to stay out of the room, but nothing but phlegm came out. Kelly pushed past him, grabbed onto Linda’s leg, and jerked her back into the room. Sebastian ran in to save her, and Kelly redirected her attention to the boy. Evard tried to stop her, but the fast movement caused his heart to skip a beat, and he ended up in a ball on the ground. Pain whip-cracked his insides. He couldn’t breathe anymore. Kelly’s laughter slithered into his ears.

  ***

  “Oh, Linda, it was so good of you to stop by. Toby’s on the phone for you. He’s been very worried about you and Sebastian.” The scary lady’s voice scratched the air like those scrapey sticks Mommy used on her nails. Every word made him cringe, and for a second, he thought he might have an accident in his pants. The last time he peed his big boy pants was on the playground during recess. Luckily, it had rained earlier, and the playground was packed full of puddles. One hop in the water, and no one knew.

  Mommy carried him into the room. He kicked and screamed. They couldn’t go in there with the scary lady.

  “No! We can’t! Mommy, we got to go!”

  She put him down but continued to walk in to the room. He took a step back and stood at the doorway. Mommy walked in and looked around, as if unsure of what she saw.

  “Stay close,” she said.

  “No, Mom! Stop! Come back!”

  Grandpa lay on the ground next to the table. A thick line of drool ran from Grandpa’s mouth and soaked into the carpet. Sebastian stayed at the door. He needed to wake grandpa up, but he didn’t want to go in the room.

  The scary lady stood on the corner of the table next to Grandpa and stared at Sebastian through the gloom. Her eyes glowed in the dark and made his legs shake.

  The scary lady talked to Mommy, but something weird happened. While it talked to Mommy, it also had a—what did the grownups call it?—a converstation with Sebastian. The scary lady’s scratchy voice cut into Sebastian’s mind, clear as day.

  “Get in here boy! Come see Grandma.”

  “No! You let my mom go.”

  The thing laughed a laugh that came from everywhere. Sebastian cupped his hands over his ears, but it didn’t make a difference.

  “You’re special like your father, and like this one here,” the scary lady said and pointed to the ground at Evard. “Special, and oh so tasty.”

  Sebastian hid behind the wall, but the scary lady’s laugh spilled out of the room and into the hall. He trembled and shut his eyes. Daddy said if he was scared, he should count backward from ten. Sebastian tried it, but this time, the nightmare didn’t stop. It was too much. Sebastian bolted down the hallway, chased by the icky laughter.

  He wasn’t used to the house, and he tripped over a beer bottle. Sebastian tumbled to the ground and rolled into the wall. Tears streamed down his face. He grabbed his knees and hugged them close to his chest. His thumb inched toward his mouth, but he fought the urge to suck on it. Daddy would be proud.

  His mommy cried out and cut through the scary lady’s laugh. Sebastian uncurled from the ball he’d wound himself in and got to his feet. Her cries crawled through the hallway in a low sob.

  “Mommy?”

  Sebastian hugged the wall and crept back toward the sewing room. Every now and then, Mommy’s cries got louder and made him jump. He tried to be strong.

  “Mom?”

  She let out a cry of pain. Sebastian ran. He ran toward the room. Sebastian skidded to a stop at the door and peered in. Mommy lay on the ground next to Grandpa, and the scary lady stood over her. The scary lady held Mommy’s head with hands so large they looked like a cartoon—fingers longer than the rulers he’d used in kindergarten, wrapped around his mommy’s face. Mommy sobbed and kicked her legs, but it didn’t help.

  Grandpa didn’t move. The drool continued to pool on the carpet, and Sebastian knew he was on his own. He wanted to run and hide under his covers and scream. His daddy would come and check on him, and everything would be okay. But Sebastian knew it wouldn’t work this time. This time, the thing in the closet was real. No one would save him.

  “Stop,” he said.

  The creature’s laughter got louder. It turned its head toward Sebastian and looked at him with its head turned sideways like an owl. He liked the owls at the zoo. They looked funny when they turned their heads. The scary lady didn’t look funny.

  “Didn’t your bitch mommy teach you patience? I’ll deal with you soon enough.”

  His tummy didn’t feel good, and he wanted to run and hide again. But he stuffed it down. He tried to be strong like Daddy told him to be. What would Daddy do? Would he run away and let Mommy die? What would Batman do? He never ran away. He had to be brave like Batman.

  “You let my mommy go!” he said. This time, his voice sounded louder. The scary lady stopped laughing.

  Grandpa coughed and groaned. He rolled to his back but didn’t wake up. Mommy screamed something, but it came out muffled under the scary lady’s hands.

  Sebastian bit his lip and rocked on his feet. The scary lady dropped his mommy and stood up really tall. Then, the scary lady dropped to the ground and crawled toward Sebastian on all fours.

  “You leave me alone! Go away!” He screamed with every ounce of strength he could imagine.

  When he did, the walls bent outward as if they were made of rubber. The creature stopped in its tracks and clapped its hands over its ears as it scrambled back into the room. It let out a shriek that broke the window.

  Evard let out another groan and rolled to his hands and knees. Linda crawled toward Sebastian. Sweat covered her skin like a slimy second coat. Dark red marks appeared where the thing’s hands touched her. The marks disappeared as Sebastian watched from the doorway.

  “Mommy!” Sebastian hesitated, unsure of the room still. He took a cautious step in and then hopped back to the hallway. “Come on, you have to get out of there.”

  Somehow, he knew that inside there the scary lady could get him. Then it would be all over for everyone.

  The thing rose from the dark corner of the room. It let out another shriek and grabbed onto Mommy’s ankle. She let out a grunt, and the creature pulled her back. He had to do what Batman would do. Sebastian ran into the room.

  The creature’s attention shot to Sebastian as he crossed the door. It dropped Linda’s leg and came at him in a crabwalk, kind of like what Mr. Peterson made him do at P.E. class. He hated the crabwalk. Sebastian hated the monster more.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Not good at all,” Doyle said just before he hit the ground and rolled to his feet.

  The ground squished under his Crocs, and each step echoed through the dark with a wet slosh. It could have been a mold-ridden sponge he walked on for all he knew. It even smelled old and stagnant, a kind of musty rotten wood stink. Doyle fished in his jacket and pulled the big silver Maglite from his pocket. The beam did little to cut through the darkness, but at least he could see where he stepped.

  He instantly regretted the decision. The ground held a light grey color, like raw meat someone left out for too long. It pulsated in a slow, steady rhythm as if it breathed. He was in the In-between. From his studies at Miskatonic University, breathing ground wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

  A clear liquid seeped from beneath his shoes, the color and consistency of old mop water saturated with the reek of cat piss. There wasn’t anyone or anything nearby, but he figured he should get moving before something came sniffing around.

  “Hey, worker-man. Where are you? We need to get out of this place, pronto.”

  The man’s scream replied, and Doyle took off in a trot toward the noise. The In-between was the darkness between worlds and dimensions. It was the amorphous glue that held chaos together.

  Just think
ing about the In-between hurt the recesses of his mind and made it hard to see straight. All he could remember was his instructor, a tall German lady who looked more like a troll, which was an affront to the troll community. Her name was Frau Krause, which was odd because her hair was straight as a ruler. She always wore a black skirt, high-heeled shoes, and a white button-up blouse, which must have made shopping easy. Krause’s recommendation on the In-between consisted of the following: never go there.

  “Thanks a lot, Krause, very informative.”

  In the back of his mind, Frau Krause slammed her large fist down on his desk and berated him for not using her proper title. He missed the good old days.

  Doyle didn’t fear much. Agents either went insane or died—not much room for fear with those two options. Doyle had a psych folder larger than the complete 1979 set of Encyclopedia Britannica, the special Bureau edition with the expanded sections on the occult, paranormal, extraterrestrials, and the true account of how WWII ended. Yet, despite it all, a single mote of fear crept up his spine and brushed against his heart.

  “Kind of tickles.”

  Darkness and grey meat stretched as far as he could see in any direction. He relied on his ears to guide him to the lost worker, but it wasn’t easy. The sound warbled as it traveled through the thin air and made it difficult to pinpoint.

  Something big moved nearby and caused the meat-ground to shift and tremble. It made the distinct sound wings made when the owner of said wings used them to lift off the ground. After the whoosh, a blast of wind rolled across his face and tousled his hair. Doyle gagged as the rancid air flowed through his lungs. It burned his insides, and he threw up. He wiped his mouth and looked in amazement spiced with a little disgust as the ground seemed to eat his vomit. Small bits of half-digested peas, carrots, and pineapple were absorbed into the grey patch in front of him. Within a few seconds, it disappeared, absorbed into the ground.

  “Remind me not to walk around barefoot.”

  He shined the flashlight to try and see what it could have taken flight, but it was already gone. Doyle took another step forward, and the thing rushed by again. He threw an arm over his nose and thrust the light toward the dark like a spear and caught the tail of the creature with the beam as if flew past. The thing’s black slime-coated skin smoked when the light touched it, and it bellowed in pain. The roar thundered all around him, and the light itself seemed to cower under its grumble.

  “Haven’t been hurt much, have you?”

  The worker cried out again, this time nearby. Doyle spun toward the voice and moved forward as the Maglite led the charge.

  “Coming!”

  The man’s yellow hard hat lay on the ground, and Doyle couldn’t tell if it sank or the ground tried to absorb the protective gear, but half of the hat disappeared under the grey waste. Clear liquid pooled in footprint-like impressions that lead away from the hard hat. He followed them as fast as he dared.

  It wasn’t long until he came to the only wall he’d seen since he entered the In-between, although it was more a large mound than a wall. For being an interdimensional crossroads, there wasn’t much to see in the place. The distinct sound of tearing ripped Doyle’s attention from the wall. The worker’s gruff sobs accompanied the rips. Doyle bounded up the hill and stopped at the crest. He cast the Maglite’s beam across the barren landscape below him.

  The man lay on the ground, the skin of his arms, as well as part of his face bubbled and liquefied as they touched the grey meat underneath him. Two small creatures with characteristics similar to a hairless cat and a monkey let out a shrill scream when the light touched them. One threw a thin arm across its face to hide from the beam before it scurried into the darkness. The other wasn’t as quick. The light bore down on its emaciated frame and drove it to the ground. It kicked and screamed but couldn’t fight the light. The monkey-cat let out one long, high-pitched yelp and then exploded into a cloud of shadow.

  The worker rolled to his side and left a swath of skin on the ground. He groaned, tried to get to his feet, and fell back down. Doyle rushed to help him up. He swung one of the man’s arms around his shoulders and supported a good chunk of the worker’s weight.

  “Come on, time to go.”

  The man whispered something, but Doyle couldn’t make it out. His attention drifted to the surrounding gloom. Something—a lot of somethings, actually—were out there past the beam of the flashlight.

  “It’s getting too crowded in here, gotta go.”

  The man tried to say something, but it came out as a gurgle.

  “I’m Special Agent Doyle L. Johnson, ID Hotel-Punk-Lemur, 3-15-3. I’m here to help.”

  Oddly enough, the man didn’t bleed from where his skin sloughed off. It looked like whatever ate the flesh away also cauterized it. Doyle stopped and lifted his foot. He used the light to inspect the bottom of his shoe. Everything looked to be intact, which hopefully meant the ground couldn’t eat through the soles.

  Doyle and the man plodded through the dark. He didn’t know where to go, so he figured he would move forward. It was an exercise in futility, but in this place, futility was at least better than nothing.

  Wherever they went, the somethings followed close behind. Whenever he flashed the light behind them, everything scattered, took flight, slithered out of range, or scurried off. It was only a matter of time before the creatures got bolder, or worse, the batteries died in his light.

  The worker continued to moan, his breath ragged, as it left bits of phlegm and spittle down his chin and neck. Doyle tried to avoid touching the man’s wounds, but it he couldn’t avoid it. The wounds were cold as a leather seat on a winter morning.

  “Am I…?” the man asked before he coughed up a small pile of black and green goo.

  “Going to be all right? I dunno. Maybe? Maybe not?”

  A small creature swooped down from above and raked Doyle’s back with its claws. He dropped to his knees, and the man fell from his grasp and hit the ground. Doyle’s knee went numb, and a cold sensation snaked through his thigh. He let out a grunt, stood, and frowned; a small patch of skin came away and stuck to the grey meat below. A slow burn of pain came soon after and throbbed on his knee.

  The worker thrashed and moaned as well, and Doyle did his best to lift him up off the filth. He kept a firm grip on the Maglite and tried to keep the beam moving in an arc in front of them.

  Two more creatures came at him. Doyle was ready this time and brought the light up and caught one of the things square in the face. It let out a shriek before it exploded. He dragged the worker along and hoped they would reach one of the many gates that connected the In-between with everything else. Bits of Frau Krause’s class came back to him, and he vaguely remembered brave souls—or insane souls, in which Doyle covered both descriptions—used the In-between as a shortcut for inter-dimensional travel. Such travelers rarely made it anywhere because the In-between generally ended their travel in horrific and violent ways. Yet, for supposedly having many gates, he couldn’t find any.

  And like that, as if the In-between had read his mind, Doyle found three doors erected in front of him. One was made of polished oak with a deep red stain on the wood. A giant iron knocker, in the shape of a head which sprouted two ivory horns, decorated the middle of the door. Doyle got the distinct feeling the knocker’s eyes watched his every movement.

  The second door looked like a cheap screen door. The mesh screen was torn and ripped, and the plastic handle sat at a crooked angle. Even though the door sported a screen, he couldn’t see through to the other side.

  The third door looked like the common, thin paneled things most houses used on the insides. It was brown, with a faux-brass knob. The only distinguishable mark was a crack, which ran down one of the panels.

  “Choices, choices.” Doyle said.

  Small wings flapped near his head, and he ducked while at the same time pointing the
flashlight up. Doyle didn’t see it, but the pop and subsequent puff of shadow told him another one bit the dust, and another one down, and another one down! Another one bites the dust!

  Doyle looked closer to the one with the knocker. The iron knocker no longer sported the ring to knock with. He grinned and shined the beam at it. The knocker’s mouth curled in agony. The door trembled and then burst into shadow.

  “Clever girl.”

  Doyle shined the light at the other two doors and let out a sigh of relief when they stayed intact. He hefted the worker into a better position.

  “You ready?”

  The man didn’t respond.

  “I take your silence as acquiescence.”

  He reached out for the handle of the screen door. The door disappeared before he could get a grip on it, and a shockwave dumped him on his ass. Doyle shined the light to where the door once stood, and the air sizzled under the beam.

  “What?”

  A low grumble reverberated in front of him. He looked closer and noticed that the patch of darkness he thought was air was in fact something’s skin. Doyle shined the light up and followed the dark blotch high above him. It was an arm or, in this case, it was one of six arms covered in obsidian scales attached to something quite large.

  The creature let out a growl, and Doyle shoved the worker to the side as he dove the other direction. One of the beast’s clawed hands smashed down where they had stood before. The flashlight got away from him when he landed, but it wasn’t too far away. Doyle reached out for it, but one of the monkey-cats pounced on it and stepped back before he could grab it. The creature let out a hiss and shined him in the eyes with the beam.

  “Gah! You little…”

  It let out a chortle and ran off into the darkness. Doyle watched with his mouth open as the beam disappeared into the dark.

  “That was a limited edition.”

  The big creature growled again, and Doyle rolled to the side as another large hand smashed down onto the ground.

  “Okay, no more mister nice agent.”