Its lips peeled back, trembled into a snarl. Saliva hung in little ropes from its chin. The eyes were lit by intelligence as it stared unblinkingly at him. His insides felt like he had been hooked up to a paint can shaker at the local hardware store. He feared that if he tried to move, he might fall. Looking at the monstrosity before him was like looking at a terrible car wreck—he wanted to look away from the horror but could not force his gaze elsewhere.
“What the hell are you?” The sound of his own voice startled him out of his paralysis.
The low rumbling growl from the other side of the glass turned into a sound more akin to a cat’s purr. The expression, however, left little doubt as to the creature’s intentions. It would rip him to shreds if it got to him. He wondered if it was intelligent enough to understand the glass was shatterproof and that he could escape before it ever got out. Or, maybe it didn’t want to scare him away; it wanted to study him for a moment, just as he was studying it.
Robert had the thing trapped in the room. It blinked once then sidestepped and rammed the door with its hands. It never broke eye contact, However, Robert did when he screamed and turned to run out of the hallway. Veering around the turn, he ran into the wall in the dark and then slowed down to retrace his steps to the Hub room. The hall had been clear, he did recall that much. He had set his duffel of supplies just to the side of the doorway in the hub room. The echoing thuds and screams chased him out of the door.
Falling to his knees, he snatched a roll of twine from the duffel, dropped it twice as he stood up, and then started back. “Twice you’ve run toward that thing, you fucking psycho, you should be running in the other direction.” He cursed himself as he let the frantic sounds of the beast lead him back.
The glowing light from the creature moved on the wall opposite the window. A psychedelic sideshow of moving, changing lights. As soon as Robert was back in view, the thing stopped its tirade against the door. Robert had no doubt that had it been any of the doors to the offices, the thing would have ripped through them in no time.
He held up the roll of twine. “Just gonna tie the doors together. Gonna make a little obstacle course for you, if you do get out of there.” Feeling like the world’s biggest idiot for talking to the thing like it was maybe a five-year-old kid who wanted an explanation of the strange man’s actions, he broke eye contact and moved to the doorknob.
He made a slipknot then he slid the noose around the doorknob and yanked on it a couple times, remembering that the door was unlocked. He had no way of locking it from outside. If the creature managed to turn the knob, he was screwed. Of course, so far, it had exhibited a love of brut force instead of mindful finesse. It had passed up closed doors and had not offered to mess with the knob of this door yet. Maybe it had not figured them out yet.
Chuckling under his breath, he thought, When he figures out how to turn them, we’ll have to break out the kid-safe covers, won’t we?
The weirdness of the situation caused all sorts of disjointed and nonsensical thoughts to flood his mind. He wanted to scream, cry, laugh, and run all at once. He didn’t remember ever feeling so scattered and uncentered in his life. Nothing had prepared him for what he now faced. The nameless thing that defied categorization. The thing that seemed so alien it could never be real. Yet there it stood behind a thin layer of glass, watching his every move intently.
He moved across the hall to the next door and wound the cord around that knob, then he went back to the original door and made several loops around that knob before repeating the process with the other again. From there, he decided zig zag the cord between knobs all the way up the hall. Not that it would contain the beast should it get free, but it would present an obstacle that might slow it down enough for Robert to find another hiding place, or a way out.
Each time he looked up at the monster, it snarled at him. As he moved out of its sight, the creature began calling with the chittering, insectile sound. After a few moments, it began to shriek, and Robert knew the blood-chilling, mind-numbing crescendo was only a few ticks of the clock away. He hurriedly finished the job, his fingers numb and trembling so bad he could barely tie a knot.
He exited the hallway again and he shouldered the duffel and moved back to the hallway in which he had abandoned his lantern. It wasn’t much, but it was better than the Zippo. After lighting the wick, he put the Zippo back in his pocket and jogged to the hub room.
The beast was at the glass again. It could break that out faster than it could break the door, he supposed. He went back to the tunnel that had led him to the room and searched for any doorways he had not already explored. The creature’s cries echoed even down that corridor.
He looked at his axe and he wondered if he really had the backbone to stand up to that thing and try to kill it. The bigger question was whether the axe would be up to the job.
He found a door far down the corridor on the left and he opened it, keeping a keen eye out for snakes, and went inside. There he found another map by the door. It was in poor condition as the glass had been broken away, but he still got the gist of where he was on it and where the nearest exit was situated.
Memorizing the turns and rooms was, again, beyond his addled mind. Whoever had designed the facility’s layout, in his mind, was a certified lunatic. It was impossible to memorize the twists, turns, backdoors, hidden hallways, and whatever else was in the place. There were no elevators—not even service elevators for transporting the furniture or equipment he had seen. He deeply rubbed his face and he sucked in a breath as his fingertips moved over the swollen wound on his forehead.
Mentally and physically exhausted, he sat on the edge of the desk and stared blankly at the little window in the door. All he could think was, Why did they turn the squares so they looked like diamonds? He shook his head. Did they think it would make that monster look better, less terrifying, if it was staring at them through a diamond-shaped piece of glass?
He closed his eyes and he felt the world sway dangerously around him as his stomach crawled up into his throat. He studied the map again, this time only looking for a way up instead of out. If he could get to the level above ground, he thought he could surely find a way out. When the place had been abandoned, they had sealed it to keep in the monster, not a man who was only about half its size.
He counted five doors on the map. Five doors, take fifth on left, corridor through back door. He repeated the directions in his mind for several seconds as he stared at the route on the map. Closing his eyes, he repeated it aloud. He checked the map to make sure it was accurate and he thumped it with his knuckles and grinned.
He slid the duffel strap at a diagonal from him left shoulder to his right hip and put the bag at his back, out of his way. He put his hand through the loop on the axe and gripped the handle, testing its heft. It felt good in his hand. It felt like it would do the job if it came to that. He let go of the handle, letting the axe dangle by the loop around his forearm, and took the lantern in that hand.
He opened the door and looked both ways and then stepped out, leaving the door ajar. Putting the lantern in his left hand, he raised it above his head and started walking. At the fifth door, he paused. He couldn’t remember if he was supposed to go in the fifth room or the sixth.
He decided to take his chances as he turned the knob and stepped inside. There was a door at the back of the room. Nodding, he moved toward it, pulled it open, and carefully stepped into the corridor. He opted for leaving both doors open in case he had to retrace his steps.
The corridor definitely had an uphill grade. It wasn’t steep enough to wind him, but he could tell he was ascending. The path curved widely to the left. There were a few rooms, and all the doors were closed.
Just then, the sound of tennis shoes scuffing along rough concrete nearly caused him to scream. He doused the lantern and set it quietly against the wall and had a horribly gleeful thought. If that was the thugs who had put
him there, he hoped they got torn to bits by the monster.
He stood with his back to the wall. The sounds receded but then he could hear the gibberish whispering again. It drew closer and he could hear two different voices as if they were in conversation, but the words were completely incomprehensible.
It’s the monster, he thought. It can imitate sounds it hears. It must’ve heard them as they dropped me off. Then another thought, a more terrible thought, occurred to him. Maybe it had heard them more than once, muttering as they threw some poor schmuck into that concrete room. If it had been near when they tossed him inside, surely it would have attacked him immediately. Perhaps the thing lingered around up there and heard other people talking, heard their voices through layers of concrete and steel and that’s why the words were indecipherable. It was imitating sounds it had heard through the thick walls; and those sounds had been muffled.
His blood ran cold as the reality of the monster lurking around out here for all those years hit home. How many times had it been only a foot away from some nosy teenager, or a hunter who wandered onto the property? How many times had it almost escaped? And how many times had it gotten its hopes up only to have them dashed as the nosy body didn’t cut the lock?
He shuddered as he forced his body into motion. No wonder the creature was so violent; if he had to spend years out there always missing his chance at freedom by mere seconds or inches, he would go crazy and turn violent, too.
As he reached for the lantern, he realized too late that the monster was only a couple yards away. It shrieked and his heart stopped. Forgetting about the lantern, he gripped the axe and ran, hoping there was not another rat to step on and trip him up. The slap-slap-slap of bare feet hitting concrete steadily gained on him.
Finally, he threw caution to the wind and sprinted in the darkness, holding to the slightly curving layout as the rest of the corridor had been on. The spray paint cans clanged together in his pack as it flopped hard against his low back. His left arm brushed the wall and he scooted away, still running. A few steps later, he could sense the wall getting closer and corrected course again.
The monster ate up enough space between them that its glow lit Robert’s way. Its ragged breathing was loud at his back. Switching the axe to his left hand, he pulled the duffel strap over his head and clutched it in his hand. Glancing over his shoulder to get the creature’s position, he flung the duffel backward as he turned his head forward again. He was rewarded with a deep thud followed by the whoosh of air as it left the thing’s lungs.
He couldn’t resist one look back. He had to see if the thing was wounded. Robert turned his head again and he laughed to see the monster sprawled against a wall, fighting with the bag. And then as he was running Robert collided with the wall and bounced off landing in the middle of the floor.
Addled, he looked up in confusion to see that he was facing a wall of cinderblocks. The walls on either side had been painted white, but that wall was plain. Compared to the other walls, it seemed that the contractor had been pissed off when he laid those blocks.
The creature scurried to its feet behind him. “Or he was scared shitless by that thing.”
Robert shot to his feet, realized the wall had been put in place as a blockade, and turned to the door on the left. The monster limped a few steps as Robert fought with the knob. He finally got it to turn, and the otherworldly beast began to lope toward him, roaring, and pedaling at the air with its hands.
But the door was jammed on something. Robert shoved at it as fear engulfed him. He put his shoulder into it and thrashed madly, screaming with terror and effort. The monster extended all four hands, tipped with three-inch nails, toward him.
The door gave and he fell to the floor inside, still clinging to the knob. The monster’s momentum carried it crashing into the same wall Robert had hit. It screamed and spun around. Robert was on his feet pushing the door. It was jammed again. The floor had swollen, and the bottom of the door was catching on it. He put his back to the door, still screaming, and pushed.
A long-fingered hand snaked through the opening and sunk three of its nails into Robert’s left arm. He threw his weight against the door even as he raised his axe. The door was not going to move, and another hand was weaseling its way into the opening.
The grip on his forearm buried half the length of the nails into his flesh. The red-hot poker of pain cleared his thoughts instantly. He spun, ripping his left arm open, and simultaneously brought the axe down in a hard blow. Robert’s blood gushed onto his bare chest and stomach. The monster’s arm was bludgeoned down to the floor and then the sharp blade severed it just below the elbow.
The roar of pain from the thing morphed into maddening shrieks and cries of fury. Robert backed up and ran at the door, lowering his left shoulder, and rammed it. The squeal of metal over tile set his teeth on edge. At least the door was one of the reinforced, thick ones. And at least there’s no damn showroom window for it to break out.
He was on his knees heaving deep, unsteady breaths as he eyed the piece of arm lying close by. The muscles bunched and relaxed quickly as if in the middle of a seizure. The hand curled into a fist and then the fingers stretched out wide, only to close again.
Disgusted, he stood and kicked it away. He put his back to the door as he held his own seriously injured ar. The monster’s attack was brutal, and the thuds rocked Robert’s head forward. He kept his eyes closed as he reached behind him and locked the door. He turned to face the door and then he ran his hand up from the knob and found four more security locks. He engaged each one. “Somebody must have lived in Scranton.” He chuckled but it hurt, so he fell silent again and stepped away from the door.
Chapter 8
Test Tubes
He flicked the little wheel on the Zippo, but it only sparked. “Damn you, don’t turn traitor on me just yet, please.” He flicked it again. Sparks flew, but no flame caught.
In the burst of temporary light from the sparks, he thought he had seen people in the room, standing around motionless, heads lolled. He squeezed his eyes shut and he shook his head sharply. Had to be my eyes playing tricks, he thought and rolled the wheel of the Zippo again.
This time a flame burst to life and jigged happily at the tip of the wick. He forced his eyes up and away from the fire. He was startled at the sight of people, almost dropped the lighter but then he gripped it tighter in reaction to what he saw.
The people were in large glass tubes. They floated upright in the centers of their units. He had never seen anything like it. His tiny flame reflected in the glass of the tubes, giving the sense of more light than there really was.
Robert blinked several times, but the people didn’t disappear as he had hoped. A few deep breaths later, he moved forward on legs that felt like air. The monster’s attack on the door faded to background noise as he moved through the room gawking at the specimens on display.
Men and women, young and old, and every age between were represented. The thick liquid in which they hung was crystal clear. All of their eyes were closed as if they were only sleeping. Twenty-six tubes stood randomly around the large room. Only twenty-four contained people.
He stopped in front of a middle-aged naked woman. Her gray-streaked, shoulder-length hair had floated outward and upward from her head and hung there perfectly still. A snapshot photo of a woman underwater. There was no movement. It was surreal, beautiful, and horrible all at once. Every wrinkle stood out, pronounced under the magnifying effect of the liquid around her. The indention where her wedding band had resided still remained as if the ring had only been removed hours ago. Her feet were a foot off the bottom of the tube and the top was a couple feet over her head.
He circled the room again, with a bit more intention. None of the tanks were marked with any sort of names or numbers. Who were these people? Why were they in this state of suspended animation? And how were they still there long after the place had
been abandoned?
As he stared hard at a young man’s face, a tiny bubble crawled out of his left nostril and slowly winnowed up toward the top of the tank. Lifting his hand as if in a dream, he rapped on the glass with his knuckle. The vibrations sent miniscule ripples through the liquid and through his suspended hair.
He knocked on the glass again, harder. The ripples were more visible as they ran through the strands of blond hair. Looking back to the man’s face, he felt bad. That man had been alive, he was somebody’s son. He was not a specimen under a microscope or a monkey in a zoo to be ogled and serve as entertainment for the masses. Movement under the man’s eyelids drew Robert’s attention. Had he seen true movement, or had it been reverberating remnants of the ripples he had caused? He squinted and concentrated on the left eye. Robert gasped and stepped back as the eyeball rolled under the lid. It had not been residual ripples; it had been true movement.
That’s not possible, he corrected himself. They have to be dead after all these years.
The eye remained still. To prove to himself that he couldn’t have seen the eye move, he thumped hard on the glass. “Hey! Can you hear me?” He had not meant to speak so loudly or so sharply. The harsh sound of his voice spooked him.
He leaned forward and studied the man’s lax face. The eyelids lifted a fraction of an inch. Robert squawked his surprise as he saw the pale icy blue color of the eyes. He stopped studying the man and moved carefully between tubes, trying not to touch them. Letting his gaze roam upward, he saw that more of them had their eyes open to small slits just like the young guy.
He ran to the wall where he had seen a door on his first circuit of the room. As he opened that door, lights flickered overhead, but they weren’t conventional by any means. His first reaction was to shield his head. When he realized it was just lighting, he lowered his arms and put out the lighter.
S79 The Horror in the Swamp Page 10
