"Maybe we should go back inside?" I ask. I'm not really asking for their permission, as I'm already backing away towards the stairwell. We keep our eyes open and our backs facing the wall. In the dimming light every shadow seems to move.
I grab the handle on the stairwell door and pull. Nothing happens. “Um, guys?” They both turn to look at me, and I’m alarmed at how quickly the light is fading. “Looks like we may have to find another way in. It’s locked.”
There’s only one other way out of here. Obviously, we can’t jump over the railing; the fall would probably kill us, or at the very least break every bone in our bodies, essentially making us wish we were dead. So that leaves the ramp.
The concrete ramp is cracked and crumbling. I feel about as safe walking on that as I would jumping from the top rail. Regardless, with Brent behind me and Dad bringing up the rear, there is no going back. We shuffle our way down the ramp.
As we descend into the lower level, we are engulfed in darkness. I squint, trying to force my eyes to adjust. There are darker patches, which are probably cars? Nothing is moving, of that I am sure. We haven’t heard anything in a few minutes, so I take a deep breath and force myself to relax. It was probably just a rat, I tell myself. Then I tell myself again, with more authority.
Yeah, I wouldn't believe me either.
Our own shuffling footsteps sound too loud. I shush the guys behind me, but even my Shhh echoes in triplicate.
We finally come to a stop at the bottom of the ramp. It feels like an hour has passed, though I can tell by the sky’s glow from above that it’s probably been a minute, at most. Now that we’re here, an overwhelming sense of being lost beats at me. Where the hell are we supposed to go now? I feel caged with these barricades around me, rather than safe. Do we keep following the ramp until we get down to the ground floor? Do we head back to the alley just to find our way back into the store with its barren shelves?
And then, without any reason that I can see, the hair on my arms stands on end. I feel as though we’re being watched. I fight against my gut instinct, knowing that we can’t go back. We move deeper into the garage. Maybe we can find a car that isn’t locked, and we can hunker down and sleep for the night. Mornings are supposed to bring clarity, right?
Except I need that clarity right now. There's something in here with us.
I catch the first sign of movement to my right. It's fast, a blur, and it doesn't look human. Not like an animal, though, either. Bipedal, but too quick. My eyes must be playing tricks on me.
"Dad? Dad, what is that?” I hiss, but by the time he turns around to look, it's gone. Panic wars with disbelief.
My instinct says to run. My mind and my body are screaming at me to take action, to move. Instead, I find myself waiting, but don't ask me what I'm waiting for. I look to Dad, I look to Brent. It’s too dark to see their expressions, but if I had to guess by their silence, they both look dumbstruck. Clueless. Helpless. Just like I feel.
I'm about to drag them forward. I need to get them moving. But then I catch movement to my left. I pivot, trying to track it.
Then a shadow cuts through the light from the ramp. We're surrounded.
I feel cornered, trapped. We could try to backtrack to the locked door above; we could try to force it open, barricade ourselves inside. But the unknown factors are glaring. What if we can’t get the door open? What if there’s no way to form a barricade once we’re on the other side? The ramp down to the next level would be on the other side of the garage, through the maze of skeletal cars. I swallow around the lump in my throat. We somehow need to get back into the building.
"We gotta move!" I shriek at my family.
My shout sends Brent and Dad reeling in the darkness. They spin in place, completely disoriented. They don't seem to know the danger we’re in. My adrenaline kicks in and my breath comes in hot pants. With a well-placed shove in the middle of Brent’s back, we're on the move.
That is, until we hit the door.
I know right away that something isn't right. Even in the darkness. Whatever creatures wait for us in the shadows, they have no sense of urgency to react, to attack. I try to convince myself that maybe they’re friendly. Maybe we’re just being paranoid.
Or maybe they know something we don't.
When we reach the door, we find that the handle has been mangled. Twisted metal is all that remains. I try to wedge my fingers in around the door seam, but it's no good. It’s shut tight.
I spin around, my eyes wide in the dark. Trying to see with what little light is left. My ears are attuned to every sound, every skitter, every pant. The combination of distorted senses is disorienting. I'm essentially blind. I swallow, my parched throat screaming in protest. Just one day outside the walls and this is the end. I can't help but think of all the scavengers who have gone missing over the years. They were trained fighters; how could we have been so stupid to think that we could succeed where they had failed.
And then I hear something so completely out of place that I don't even register it as being abnormal.
Ding!
My head swivels of its own accord towards the sound. 20 feet away, a small green triangle lights up. And then the elevator doors open, a glowing square of hallelujah!
My feet are already moving before I even have a chance to think "How weird is this?” The closer I get to the elevator filled with inviting electric glow, the more I start to panic. I can hear the sudden change in our surroundings. Whoever, or whatever, is hunting us, cornering us like livestock, has suddenly realized they're about to lose their lunch.
First, I hear their shuffling in the darkness. And then they chitter back and forth, almost like they're communicating.
The elevator is just ten feet away. Five feet. As I set foot inside the metal box, I belatedly turn to make sure that Brent and Dad have followed. I'm running on instinct; I'm not worried about them following, or about whether the elevator is safe, as it has shown up so conveniently at the right moment.
Fight or flight, that's as basic as instinct can get.
And in this case, fighting is just not an option. I don't have the first clue what we're up against.
Brent and Dad pile into the elevator behind me. I slam my hand down on the close-door button. For one fraction of a second, I believe that this is all a dream. There is no elevator. Or at the very least, there is no button. The doors will never close. This elevator will be our mausoleum.
Now that we’re standing inside the little elevator, the garage is that much darker in comparison. All I can see is a rippling in the shadows. I mash the button again and again with my finger, the muscles in my hand cramping. They're getting closer.
The elevator emits a soft ding, and the doors finally begin to close. I allow myself the briefest breath of relief. I watch the darkness get squeezed out between the doors, the metal reflecting back the overhead light.
And just as the doors reach their final destination, a hand reaches through.
It’s not human! Oh god, it’s not human! It’s covered in thick skin, almost like scales, calloused and knobby. The fingers are stretched long and thin, and tipped with black claws, curved and razor sharp. Certainly not like any animal I’ve seen, in real life or in the compound’s library.
It takes me a second to register the screaming. And another second to realize that it’s coming from me. My mouth is emitting an eardrum-tearing banshee howl. In the mirrored elevator doors I can see Brent’s mouth hanging open in a grotesque oval, and maybe if I weren’t screaming so loud, I would be able to hear his wail.
Just as the door closes on the creature’s hand, it stops… and begins to open again! No! What are you doing, door? Crush the fucking hand!
A foot lashes out. It makes contact, straight down on the monster’s knuckles. An unearthly screech, like a fork being dragged across a metal cafeteria tray. Dad winds up and slams his regulation military combat boot straight back again. The door is still slowly opening, and as the gap widens, a second set of
claws appears. They’re trying to pry the door open faster!
Dad’s jaw clenches, a determined glare in place. He pushes off from the back wall, using his momentum to heave his boot up and out. And straight through the gap in the doors. Between the creature’s arms and sinking into the shadows beyond.
With a wet crunch, Dad makes contact with what I can only guess would be its face. The claws lose their grip on the door. Dad and Brent use their feet to push the weakened limbs out, while I jump forward and punch the button to close the door once more.
This time it closes without incident. And the elevator begins a quiet ascent.
17
Kenzo
If you can’t see it, and you can’t hear it… is it still there? The answer is yes. Even when I close my eyes. In my sleep? Still there. The halls of my lab echo with a new sense of terror, knowing what’s behind that door.
I refuse to turn on the light, not until Howell makes me. He’s obsessed with his new toy, and he’s often here trying to groom it, train it like you would a new puppy. Sit, heel, don’t pee on the rug, tear my enemies to shreds on command. You know, the basics.
For now, though, I leave the creature in the dark, pretending it isn’t there. My skin crawls knowing that it is, however, very much aware of me, light or no light.
The door from the compound gives a soft click and then swings open to reveal a rumpled-looking Ellis. I almost ask him about how everything went, but a handful of soldiers file in behind him. Ellis gives me a guarded look, loaded with answers to my unspoken questions, if only I could figure out how to read his expression.
Lucky for me, the soldiers are rattling on without filters. They’re practically spilling government secrets from the seams.
“...then Robbie took east of 17th, and we met up in the middle.”
“And you didn’t see anything? No sign of the truck?”
“Nope. We found some smashed glass and some tire tracks, but then everything trailed off to nothing.”
“Why didn’t you guys stay out longer? They couldn’t have gotten far.”
“Are you kidding? Telly wouldn’t budge on that. He said those monsters tore up Dan somethin’ awful, and he wasn’t about to risk his neck for a couple nobodies.”
I look over at Ellis as these two run their mouths off. Ellis just gives a shrug and we let the two wander off down the hall.
I can already tell you that those poor suckers won’t last long. Then again, the big wigs can’t keep “disappearing” the citizens and soldiers in the compound or we soon won’t have anyone left.
My eyes dart over to the darkened room containing Howell’s pet. Maybe the citizens left aren’t anything more than fodder for his experiments, maybe he doesn’t intend to stay here in the compound for much longer…
Now that Ellis and I are alone, I say, “I guess I don’t need to ask you how the search went.”
He gives a low grunt. “There’s no point in looking for them. Honestly? They’re likely already dead. Why bother wasting more man hours to bring in a few corpses.”
He’s lying. He’s keeping his face angled away from the cameras, his words for their sake. But for me, he’s wordlessly giving me the good news: they didn’t find the Fishers, and he thinks they’re still alive.
I’m not sure what Howell could possibly hope to accomplish by bringing them back anyway, dead or alive. Maybe to keep me under his thumb, but it’s safer for all of us if he thinks they’re dead.
“What about the Shredder?” Ellis says, cutting into my introspection.
“Huh?” I start, before my brain starts to catch up with what he’s asking. “Oh, has Howell filled you in? There’s been some progress.”
“Howell doesn’t tell me shit,” he grumbles, but I suspect that isn’t entirely true. Or even if it is, Ellis is resourceful enough to pick up all the gossip from the lackeys around him. He’s like a sponge.
“Yeah, so that last serum didn’t kill it.”
He shrugs. “That’s good, right?” As nonchalant as he seems, there’s a spark behind his eyes. I try to feel the same excitement that he does, but I’m empty of anything except a distant sense of dread.
“Sure, this is a step in the right direction.” The words taste bitter in my mouth.
As if he’s been listening, the secure door at my back opens and Howell marches in. Ellis salutes, but Howell isn’t even looking at him—he only has eyes for me—and Ellis soon lowers his hand, his stance relaxing into one of artificial ease.
“Is it time?” Howell asks with childlike excitement. And just like a child, I half expect he would throw a tantrum if I didn’t give him the right answer.
I walk over to the monster’s room and pull a chart from beside the door. I don’t actually have anything in this chart to confirm, no test results to check, but I’m scrambling for a way to delay this. Either outcome will be bad.
This test, one way or another, could lead us down a path that will kill us all.
I turn to Howell and find him pressing his face up against the dark glass. “Turn the lights on, I want to see it,” he whispers without glancing at me.
I hesitate for just a beat before flipping the switch. The monster that was once Dan shies away from the light—or at least as well as he can from his position strapped to the table.
Howell gasps, quivering a little. “Ohhh, would you look at it? It’s nothing like the previous subjects. Is this the Shredder’s final evolution?”
I cringe at his choice of terminology. He’s adapting his language for our experiments, and it almost sounds like we’re playing some kids’ game, rather than toying with life and death. “The Shredder is fully transformed, yes.”
This last serum, injected shortly after infection, has had some… interesting adaptations. The previous creatures were fully deformed, their skin thick and knobby, their limbs long and twisted. This monster that used to be Dan is almost passably human. Its limbs have not changed in proportion, and its skin, though similar in appearance to what it was in life, is impenetrable. Essentially bulletproof. It is, fundamentally, the perfect blend of human and invincible killing machine.
Howell strokes the glass lovingly, until he suddenly stills his hands and turns to me expectantly. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
I do my best to contain my sigh. “You do realize, if this doesn’t work, it will die?”
“Obviously. I’m not an idiot.” No, he’s not an idiot. He’s just a lunatic.
“Of course, I wasn’t implying that, sir. I was just letting you know that the outcome may not be what you’re hoping for,” I say, inserting just enough groveling into my tone to appease him.
“Well, we could sit around all day with our thumbs up our asses, and we wouldn’t have achieved anything at all.”
He simply raises an eyebrow at me, and then as Howell turns back to the window, Ellis and I exchange a glance. I guess it’s now or never, the moment of truth.
I reach over to push the button. This used to be the kill switch. When an experiment would go wrong, or when the specimen had outlived its usefulness, we would simply pull back the panel in the ceiling and end it all.
But that may be about to change.
As the panel begins its retreat, the Shredder strapped to the table begins to thrash. A feral growl erupts from its throat, but… it doesn’t burn. It’s clearly agitated, but it doesn’t appear to be in any real pain.
“It’s… it’s happening!” Howell bursts out in excitement. He reaches out and grabs me by the arm, giving it a shake. “You did it!”
“I can’t take all the credit,” I admit. The truth is, I don’t want credit for this. I will gladly—and loudly—tell anyone who will listen that I actually had very little to do with this.
“Psh,” Howell says in very unmilitary fashion. “You may not have laid the groundwork, but you were the one to take it to the next level. The first scientists made them monsters. You have made them weapons.”
I swallow the bile rising in my th
roat.
“The sun…” I begin. I don’t want to rain on his parade, but I also don’t want him moving forward with this rashly. “The sun is not at its peak.”
He frowns at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just mean, sir, that this is a very promising start. We’re clearly on the right path. But just because it can resist the evening, that doesn’t mean it would survive noon.”
“Hmm, yes, I see your point,” he says, and I can already see tomorrow’s test forming in his mind. I guess I know what I’ll be doing tomorrow.
We all stand in silence for a beat too long, until it gets awkward. Howell is lost in thoughts for the future, and my own mind is staggering blindly into the past, in memories of everything that has already been lost to us, and everything that we have yet to lose. Ellis brings us both back to the present with a soft cough.
“Right then,” Howell says quietly. “Until tomorrow.” He reluctantly drags his eyes from his beloved creation and disappears back behind his thick walls.
I peek through the window one last time. The dying light has begun to give the Shredder a reprieve. Its body is more relaxed, and it’s moving its head and turning its eyes to the sky above. I reach for the switch, to close the sky hatch, but Ellis stops me, reaching out and grabbing my hand in a vicelike grip. “What—” I begin, but he shushes me.
“Do you feel that?”
Now that he’s mentioned it, I do feel… something. It blends into the background, like water running through the pipes, or how the traffic used to rush through the streets. A constant vibration that you can’t escape from and so your mind learns to ignore it, block it out.
But now that I’m focused on it, it’s all I can hear. “What is that?”
Ellis moves forward and almost reluctantly looks into the room. His face expresses something I’ve never seen from him: fear. “It’s coming from that thing,” he whispers, and as if the creature has heard us through the thick soundproof walls, it turns its head and stares right at us.
Prey (The Shade Chronicles Book 1) Page 13
