Prey (The Shade Chronicles Book 1)

by T. K. Bradley

  Another loud ping, vibrating through the metal walls surrounding us, and the elevator lurches, along with my stomach. Now it's Brent's turn to break the silence. "Holy shit!"

  In the silence that follows, we hear the most sinister sound. It's not a familiar sound, and yet I know exactly what it is. Laughter. Halfway between a dog's bark and a donkey's bray, but three octaves deeper. The hair on my arms stands on end. What the hell is going on up there?

  Something drags across metal, and it brings to mind the claw once again. I've seen firsthand what those things can do, and I have no doubt about their effectiveness.

  "Oh my god," Dad says from between us. His arms tighten around our shoulders. He must know what's about to happen. "We have to get out of here!"

  "What? Why?" I ask. But Dad’s already pushing me up, but where the hell does he expect us to go? “This is a literal box, Dad. Four walls, no windows.”

  “One door,” he says.

  He can’t be serious.

  I fumble with the flashlight, and by the time I get it switched on, I see Brent and our father already at the doors, trying to pry them open. “Help us!” he shouts, frantic.

  I scramble over and together we pull the doors apart. When I lift the light up to look through the gap, it shines directly down a deserted hallway, the outer doors already open. The downside? When the elevator shifted, it dropped us down the shaft by about five feet. Our doorway out of here is now about the size of a window, and is at head height.

  We exchange a glance, none of us wanting to stay in here any longer than we have to, but not exactly eager to be the first to evacuate either. My breath catches in my throat. “Okay,” I gasp. “Give me a boost.”

  They hesitate. I’d like to believe that chivalry isn’t dead, that maybe one of them will volunteer to go first. But as the elevator gives a quiver, Brent quickly clasps his hands into a stirrup for my foot. This feels all too familiar.

  Fine. I’m badass. I can do this.

  I take my dad’s proffered hand and step up into Brent’s hands. With his boost, it brings the gap to waist height. I lean out, inches at a time, panning the flashlight back and forth across the dark and seemingly abandoned hallway.

  “What do you see?” Brent whispers behind me.

  “Shhh!” I hiss back. I hold my breath and listen. The only noise I can hear seems to be coming from the floor above. The monsters haven’t made it down this far yet. “Okay,” I whisper back to Brent. “I’m going.”

  I put the flashlight on the floor, training it down the hallway ahead of me, and brace myself against the elevator doors. My weakened muscles scream in protest, but with Brent’s help from below, I manage to wiggle forward until my top half is lying across the floor, my legs dangling freely in the elevator behind me.

  I’m about to slide forward again, when two things happen. First, a sharp bang echoes down the hallway ahead of me, like a door slamming shut. “Uh, guys?” I’m staring down the hallway, and the shadows start to shift. Something is creeping down the hallway towards us. And then, the elevator behind me gives a sharp clang, dropping another foot.

  “Pull me back!” I shout. If the elevator drops any more, I’ll be cut in half. And if I push myself forward, I’m monster chow. “Now!”

  I feel hands grab my flailing legs. Just as I slide back over the edge, I snatch my hand out and grab the flashlight. I get one last glimpse of the creature, all scabby and distorted, as it lowers itself to all fours and begins to lope down the hall.

  I fall back against the wall, pushing myself as far away from the gap as possible. “Get down!” I bark at my father and brother.

  They duck down just in time, a massive arm sticking through the gap and taking a swipe at us. They join me against the back wall, and the monster growls in frustration as its claws find nothing to snatch.

  With a mounting sense of horror, I watch as it appears to dislocate its shoulder, managing to squeeze its massive frame into the narrow gap. “No,” I whimper. “No no no…” I take back everything I said about being ready to die. I’m not ready. I don’t want this.

  Its shoulders are wide, but somehow it contorts itself until its head and both arms are through. Slowly, it wiggles in until its claw can almost touch the tips of Brent’s boots. He pulls his legs in tight, but it’s only a matter of time. I shine the flashlight in its face, hoping the light will bother it as the sun had, but it only seems to make it madder. “He said I couldn’t have you,” it growls out from between its elongated fangs, its eyes focused solely on me. “But you smell so good. Just give me a small taste. Just a little lick.” A string of drool unspools from its tongue as it licks its chops.

  “Go to hell,” I bite out, clearly my best comeback ever.

  It snarls at me and pulls itself forward as far as it can go. It seems to be wedged in the gap, stopping its progress. I look around for a weapon. Now that it’s trapped there, it’s the perfect time to fight back. I still have the flashlight in my hand and I throw it at the creature’s head. It bounces off, barely making the thing blink.

  We have nothing that could possibly pierce skin that thick. My little tiny steak knife wouldn’t even give it a papercut. We’re sitting ducks. Except… we do have a weapon.

  “Hold tight to something,” I tell the boys. They pause, and as my plan becomes apparent, they grip each other and tuck in against a corner, bracing themselves as best they can.

  I give a small hop, testing. The elevator car bounces, but nothing more. The creature looks at me, and I see something in its eyes. Something human. I see anger, regret, fear. But I also see relief. And with that, I launch myself up and come down hard.

  The elevator comes down just an inch before coming to a stop pressed against the creature’s spine. For a brief second, I wonder about how many jumps I’ll need. But on the next jump, there’s a bone-shaking jolt and a sharp twang of metal as a cable pulls free. With a roar and the most stomach-churching squelch, the top half of the monster plops down into the elevator, and this time the elevator drops more than a little. The thick metal cables that allow the elevator to defy gravity... snap. Suddenly I’m airborne. Brent and I reach for each other, our fingers just barely wrapping around each other.

  The flashlight smashes against the ceiling and goes out. It’s impossible to guess distance when inside a metal box, go figure, but it’s even worse while in the dark.

  I feel weightless. Time seems to slow down. My limbs move up on their own accord, a desperate cartwheel. Brent, Dad and I drift apart, and no matter how tightly we cling, we are wrenched away by gravity. My stomach becomes lodged in my throat.

  I have just enough time to think: "This is really going to hurt." And it does.

  We've all heard the expression about what goes up, must come down. But really what they should be teaching is what comes down, must stop. Suddenly, violently. Possibly with blood and broken bones.

  The elevator comes to the end of its downward journey when it hits the concrete floor of the sub-basement. Our journey ends shortly after, when we smack back down into the elevator floor. I swear I bounce. Brent and Dad are groaning, so they are at the very least alive, though likely the worse for wear. I hold my hands out, feeling around, and find the cool metal of the wall. I brace myself to stand on shaky legs. Our metal box feels like it's no longer a box, but closer to a pancake.

  I shuffle my feet around until I kick the flashlight and send it spinning. I feel around with my hands, wrapping them tight around the plastic grip. I give it a shake, bump it against my palm, and give a massive sigh when it flickers back to life. I hate to do it, but I need to survey the damage. The walls seem to have buckled, the ceiling caved, but otherwise, they have also protected us from the worst of the fall damage. Both Dad and Brent are shaking their heads to clear the fog, but other than Brent's bleeding nose, we are amazingly unscathed.

  Which is more than can be said for the beast—or rather, half a beast—now lying on the elevator floor. His hide may have been thick, but clearly n
ot thick enough to save him from being severed neatly into two pieces. It sliced him right at the waist, leaving blood and entrails smeared down the length of the doors. “Ewwww,” I whine, turning away. The stench coming from it is beyond belief.

  I have no clue how deep underground we are, and frankly, I couldn't care less. Every single inch of my body is screaming at me. I have no idea if I'm injured, or just hurt. I am certain that I must be bruised from head to toe.

  “Everyone alive?” I ask, and Brent gives me the finger. I offer him my hand, and he takes it gratefully, using me to pull himself to his feet. “Do you think we should get Dad up yet? No offence, Dad, but I might need my hands to be free out there.” I gesture with the flashlight over at the door, still closed.

  “No offence taken,” he groans from his prone position on the floor. “I’m fine here. Just don’t forget about me. And be careful.”

  “Careful is my middle name,” I respond. My middle name is actually Bertha—worst name ever, I’m thinking of having it legally changed to Careful instead.

  “I assume because we literally hit rock bottom that these doors should open to a floor,” I say to Brent.

  “It’s a safe assumption.”

  But as I scan the light over the doors, I realize I may not care where the doors open to. Not if it means I have to climb through that.

  24

  Lori

  “You know what? This is bullshit,” I rant, gesturing to our exit, bloody and smelling something fierce. “Can someone please remind me why we left the compound?”

  “Lori, we needed to leave, we—”

  “No, seriously,” I say, interrupting Dad. I’m not in the mood to hear his excuses. “Whose idea was this?! It was yours, Dad. We trusted you to make the best decision for your children, but we weren’t prepared for this level of crazy. But you knew, didn’t you? You knew what to expect out here, and you dragged us with you anyway.”

  “Go easy on him, Lori,” Brent soothes, always the voice of reason.

  But I don’t want reasons. I don’t want excuses, because that’s all I’ve heard since we left. Even before we left, Dad was always giving us the brush-off, couldn’t give a straight answer to save his life.

  And even now, here we are staring down the barrel of death by dismemberment (or digestion), and he's just shaking his head at me like I'm too young to understand. “I’ve had to grow up fast, Dad, and you can’t protect us from this anymore. We are in it, whether you like it or not.”

  He closes his eyes in defeat and tilts his head away. This isn't the time to fight about this. There’s nothing we can do about it anyway, even if we could find some common ground. It’s not like going back to the compound is an option. We would likely end up straight in a cell. Or maybe they wouldn't even bother letting us back in. I mean, I'd like to think I was irreplaceable, but the truth of it is that they'll just take some other kid and stick them into my job and train them up. Their sass level may not be any comparison, but I'm sure they can handle turning a screwdriver and swinging a hammer around. There's my job in a nutshell. Something even a trained monkey could do.

  Ugh. Way to knock myself down a peg.

  "Come on, Brent," I say, my shoulders hunched. "We'd better get a move on before those monsters come down here to see if we survived."

  I hold my breath as I trudge through the foul-smelling gore. I try not to think about what exactly is squelching beneath my boots. Because the elevator doors were open when we took a tumble down the shaft, they're permanently crumpled into a partly open position. With a little jimmying, Brent and I manage to get the outer door open enough to fit our bodies through. Before we move through the door, though, we take the flashlight and peek through. The room beyond is silent and perfectly dark, being several floors underground. Not a single window offers any light, and I find myself wondering what the hell time it could possibly be. Are we going to be stuck down here all night, forced to wait out the monsters above us? The real problem is that with how dark it is within the building, the monsters can simply wait us out. We have a limited amount of food and water, maybe enough to last us three days.

  Our days are literally numbered. That number is three, there it is.

  "There," Brent says. He's pointing at a door on the far side of the room. It appears to lead to the stairwell. "We'd better block that."

  "Couldn't agree more."

  We move as stealthily as we possibly can while keeping an eye on the room around us. I take it the thick layer of dust across the floor and allow it to bring me comfort in our relative safety. I look around for something to barricade the stairwell with, but we don't have much on hand. There are shelves lining the walls, each shelf filled with piles of cloth. "What is all this?" I ask.

  Brent pulls something off one of the piles and shakes off the dust, sending motes swirling in the lamplight. "Looks like clothes," he says, holding up a shirt. It looks similar to the pajamas that we once wore as a uniform at the compound. Great. We've come full circle. What's worse is that I've never been so happy to see clean scrubs in my life.

  Lined on the shelves are also stacks of folded blankets and sheets, which, though nice to have, will be complete trash when it comes to barricading the door. "Ugh," I said, heaving a sigh. "Can we just hurry up and lock this shit up so I can make a giant blanket nest and sleep for a week?"

  "I second that," Dad's voice echoes from the elevator.

  "That's enough out of you, old man," Brent calls back, earning a chuckle from our father. "Feel free to hop on out here to give us a hand."

  I hear him scuffling around in the elevator, and yell back, "He was kidding! Don't hurt yourself!" Once I'm sure that he isn't actually going to come out, I turn back to the room at large. Besides the shelves, we do have a few things to work with, but not a lot. This room was obviously the laundry. Other than the obvious piles of clean clothes and sheets, there are also some huge industrial-sized washers and dryers lined along one wall. They're large enough that I could probably fit into one of them comfortably, but I'm understandably nervous to lock myself into yet another metal box. The last one didn't exactly go so well.

  "Do you see that?" I ask Brent, shining the flashlight to the back corner of the room.

  "Is that a door?" he asks with a note of hope in his voice. Unlike the stairwell door, this is simply marked as "Exit," and right beside it is a huge roller door, the type you find on garages.

  "I'd put good money that they have a ramp out there, that this was for deliveries." I'm already nodding, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. I gesture to Brent and start giving him my game plan. "Okay, so we don't have a ton of time. And we don't have a lot of items at our disposal. I say we jam as many of these shelves into the stairwell to at least give them a hard time when they try to get to the door. And then we can drag some of the heavier equipment over to shove in front of the door. Yeah? We just have to stall them as long as it takes for the sun to come up, and then we make a break for it up that ramp."

  Brent surveys the room, then gives a nod. "Sounds like the best we can do with what we've got. I guess."

  "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."

  Brent huffs. "Look, Lori. You'll just have to excuse my shitty attitude right about now. I'm hungry, like, starving. Literally. I've barely had a drop to drink in hours, and besides being comatose for a few hours this afternoon, haven't actually had a decent sleep since the compound. I've been chased by murderous monster ripping machines—"

  "YES!" I shout in his face, making his expression scrunch up in confusion. "Rippers! That is the perfect name for them!"

  "Seriously?"

  "Yes, seriously!"

  "No, I mean, seriously, is this really the time?"

  "It is always the time for scratching that impossible itch. That has been bugging me for ages!"

  Brent has already turned away, gracefully moving each stack of blankets to a new pile on the floor.

  "Speaking of wasting time," I mutter. "Allow me." I walk over an
d slide my arm the entire length of the shelf, dumping the contents of the shelf onto the floor in one fell swoop. "Ta-da!"

  "God, you're right," he says. "I must be more delirious than I thought." And with that, he simply tips the next shelf to a 45-degree angle, emptying all the shelves at once. "Get the door for me."

  Why do I always get stuck being the one to push my head through doorways? One of these times I'm going to get eaten, I swear. And then he'll be sorry.

  I put my ear up to the door and listen closely. As far as I know, those Rippers aren't exactly known for their stealth. They're graceful, sure, but more like an elephant in a tutu. Clattering and smashing is more their pace. I guess it must be hard to be quiet what with being built like a scab-covered rhino with claws. I've never seen a rhino tiptoe. Just sayin'.

  After a pause with no noise on the stairwell, I deem it as safe as it's gonna get. The longer I wait, the less safe it's going to be, so better hoof it.

  I crack the door open an inch, bracing myself against the possibility of being shoved back, and peek through the crack. Obviously, it's pitch black, and my imagination already kicks into high gear. I quickly whip the beam of light into the stairwell. Nothing but dusty concrete stairs. I waste no time in whipping open the door and waving Brent through with the first set of shelves. They're light, not much more than four metal poles on the corners and a few wire shelves, not a whole lot of strength and stability needed for holding up a few sheets. And honestly, I don't expect them to withstand much of a beating from the monsters, but all we need is for it to stall them for a little while. Keep them busy until we can get the hell out of here.

  I drag a few towels from the heap on the floor over with my foot and wedge them in front of the stairwell door to hold it open. And then Brent and I take turns dragging shelves into the stairwell. We move fast, doing whatever we can to prop them up on top of each other, as silently as possible. We've got four of them crammed in there before we hear anything from above.