The Skin Show

by Kristopher Rufty

  Miles looked at the guy, still in the spot where Miles had saved his life. “I think she can do it, kid.”

  Miles nodded. “Thanks.”

  He grabbed the bag and ran away as more shots boomed behind him.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Sweat stung Karen’s back like slaps on sunburned skin. She tried to walk without discomfort but it was impossible. She reached where the tunnel branched to the right. Halted. Peeking around the edge, she saw the hypnotically pulsing walls: fading and morphing from one lovely color to another. Green and purple and pink and blue and so on. The hum emanating from their palpitating cycles was comforting. She wondered if this was what it might be like to reach a rainbow.

  She could stand here watching their swirling colors all night.

  Shaking the fog out of her aching head, she hurried past the crystal barriers. The tempting spectacle behind, she picked up her pace. More glowing colors were all around her. It was like trying to escape a funhouse without an exit. Wherever she turned, the colors were already there, waiting, shimmering behind their quartz sheets.

  She had to get out of here! If the enticing lure of their flashy show didn’t get her, the hum surely would!

  But where am I? Where’s the way out?!

  She’d tried crawling back up the way she’d come down. The slide was too steep. The dirt kept slipping out from under her feet, bringing her back down. She knew these tunnels had to connect to the one in The Skin Show’s basement, but she had no idea which one would take her there. For all she knew, she might be wandering down here until she dropped dead.

  Great. Get that idea in your head.

  Karen wondered how it was going above ground. Were the boys holding out okay? Had they vanquished all the monsters? Or had they been…killed? Two people against all those things, and one of them was just a kid.

  Such shitty odds.

  She walked into a fog of atrocious stench. It hovered around her like a combination of rotted meat that had been digested and crapped into a toilet filled with old sewage and corpses.

  Karen raised her arm, burying her nose and mouth in the bend at her elbow. She hurried up, hoping she could get away from it quickly. The stink grew stronger and more potent as the passage narrowed prominently and unexpectedly. She had to move at an angle to make it through.

  Suddenly the squishing walls went away as she reached an arroyo between tunnels. The odor was like fingers jabbing in her eyes, causing them to water and squint. A low ceiling, the walls squeezed in around the hexagon-shaped gap. Irregular shapes jutted from feeble walls of glowing marble. Spikes reached down from the ceiling like sparkling icicles.

  Which made seeing the piles of remains much easier.

  Their rotted pong stung Karen’s eyes, making them spew water in thick streams. She cupped her hand over her mouth, gripping her nose snugly between her thumb and forefinger. She was too late to prevent the odors from entering her mouth and clinging to her tongue.

  Death cluttered the floor in heaps of bone, a scrapyard of skeletal pieces. She saw human ribcages, femurs, and hands and feet that looked like nefarious decorations in yards during Halloween season. Countless skulls ranged from all sizes and species. Mostly human, but some had elongated snouts and horns that she figured belonged to sterns and deer.

  Karen started making her way through the body part debris, stepping over higher mounds, kicking scattered fragments out of the way. The bones made hollow rattling sounds as they were knocked back to clear a path.

  She cried out when her foot came down, and a bone jerked the ground out from under her.

  Her rump pounded the ground, jolting her, clacking her teeth together so fiercely it made her ears ring. Though no one had seen her stumble, her skin burned with embarrassment. Knowing she had also hurt herself made it worse. Her ass felt as if someone wearing concrete shoes had kicked her. Her jaw ached from the pounding her teeth had taken.

  Putting her hands down on the coarse ground, she screamed when pruned fingers clasped her wrist. The digits felt rubbery and cold as they curled around her. Their tenuous hold didn’t hurt. Karen could probably yank her arm free without much effort, but their moldy touch kept her from trying.

  Karen’s screams tore her throat.

  “Kaaaaaren?”

  A gasp snagged the scream. Sniffling and wheezing, she said, “Andy?”

  Rattling came as someone began to sit up from under the blanket of bones. She knew that the man had to be Andy, and she guessed he did resemble him. But, this person was so white he seemed to glow.

  His face was a skull with thin pallid skin stretched across like an old mask that needed to be thrown away. The scalp looked pretty intact, and she recognized his curly hair on top, even with the mild lacerations along the forehead and hairline. There was congealed blood in is ears, and a few pin-sized holes here and there. His chest was raked with gashes, patches where bone showed. Most of the stomach looked masticated, revealing innards and the bulges of intestines.

  Andy’s sensitive eyes had lost all their color and were now white bulbs that didn’t blink.

  “My God…Andy…what happened to you?”

  His mouth moved as the words struggled to keep up. “I…I’m sorry…”

  “No…don’t…” Karen shook her head. The tears that had been initiated now poured down her face. Her voice was whiny and shrill. “Don’t be sorry!”

  “I…”

  “What’d they do to you?”

  Andy’s heavy breaths sounded like he was gargling rocks. “She…I…It’s all my fault…Danny didn’t do it…I…I did…it…” Andy groaned. “It hurrrrrrtssssss!”

  Bawling, Karen buried her face into her hands, making wet blubbering sounds in her palms. She felt freezing gummy hands pawing at her. Raising her eyes above the tips of her fingers, she saw Andy’s marred face pleading with her.

  “Please…make them…stop…They keep…eating on me…and making me…I can’t stop…I don’t want to but I can’t stop it…” He grabbed his erected penis and started to tug. It was the only unscathed portion of his body. Screaming, he yanked as if he wanted to tear it off.

  Karen realized that was exactly what he was trying to do and also started to scream. “Stop Andy!” She grabbed his arms, holding them down, away from his penis. “Stop it, Andy! Stop it!”

  Andy slouched, head drooping. “Kill me, Karen…please…”

  “Andy, I…”

  “You have to Karen…I can’t keep going like this. Victoria said she’ll keep me alive…even though I’ll feel dead, I’ll still be alive!”

  Andy sobbed tearlessly.

  Karen saw the bone leaning against various others. This one was broken at the tip, leaving a toothed edge. She grabbed it. “You’re special, Andy.”

  Andy made a snorting sound.

  “You are. I’ve never liked someone so quickly, like I do you.” She reached out, placing her hand against Andy’s face. He leaned into her gesture like a dog wanting to be mollycoddled. The feel of his skin was like an old desiccated tire. “I’m sorry, Andy. We shouldn’t have come here…”

  Andy’s shoulder shook as his throat clucked. Karen wanted to say more, but she couldn’t think of anything. What really was there to say?

  She lowered her hand from Andy’s cheek, pushing herself up. Staring down at the top of Andy’s head, she took a deep breath, preparing herself. She decided the only way she would be able to do this was without thinking about it.

  Karen raised the bone, gripping the middle with one hand, cupping the bottom with the other.

  Then she brought it down.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Miles killed another imp by the door with two shots in its skull. It collapsed onto the steps, shattering into mounds of dust that were carried away by a non-existent wind. Standing on the porch, he looked out into the parking lot. There were less imps wandering among the cars now, killing those who hadn’t gotten to their cars. He saw a few crashed together near the exit. He wondere
d if anybody had escaped.

  Did the woman make it? She’d saved him. He hadn’t noticed the nymph coming for him. If it weren’t for her…

  He’d heard the gun he’d given her fire between short gaps of time. The last sequence she’d gotten off three quick shots. It had been silent ever since.

  Miles adjusted the bag on his shoulder, raised the machete and gun, and bolted through the doorway. He saw stairs to his right that led to the upper floor, a narrow dark hallway veered to the left of the stairs. At the end of the dark passage, he could see a set of double doors hanging open, the club beyond them.

  He ran.

  When he reached the club zone, he zoomed through the doorway without slowing. Feet smacking the floor, he was trying to hurry when he spotted the broken floor.

  “Shit!” His feet skidded across the floor as he stopped. The tips of his shoes hung over the broken rim of the hole in the floor. Looking down, he saw a ribbed gorge that led straight down into darkness. Another step forward and he’d have plunged.

  “Miles!”

  “Hoffman!”

  Miles scanned the room, finding the stage, the heart-shaped bed. He saw Hoffman on top, pants around his knees. Quickly diverting his eyes, he spotted the rope making an X pattern across his chest, trapping his arms against his sides. A line of rope ran down the length of him, coiling around both ankles. Miles had no idea how they’d managed to tie him like that. He grasped what they’d wanted to do; hopefully it hadn’t worked.

  “Are you all right?” Miles asked.

  “Yes. You have to get out of here! They’re using me to get to you. Get out of here!”

  “I’m not leaving you!”

  “You have to, Miles. Saving my life isn’t worth destroying yours!”

  “You saved mine, remember?!”

  Hoffman huffed. “Of course I do. And, I’m so glad that I did. But, Miles, this is different. You have to get out of here!”

  Miles was already making his way around the hole, carefully. Once he was in the clear, he ran. Hoffman stopped trying to convince him to leave as he approached the bed.

  “Miles…I told you to leave.”

  “I heard you.”

  Miles stepped up on the stage.

  And felt it to start to shake. A deep groan called his attention to the floor.

  “What—is—that?” asked Miles, slowly.

  Hoffman closed his eyes. “Victoria. The queen…”

  Miles’s legs trembled, knocking his knees together.

  The boards of the hardwood surface began to bow upward, rays of pink light swiveling through the cracks.

  Miles rushed to the bed, slipping the machete into the space where the two lines of rope crossed. He started sawing, constantly glancing at the floor as he worked to cut the ropes.

  Continuing to escalate, the boards started cracking apart. Then they exploded. The force threw Miles off the stage, yanked the weapons from his hands, and spilled the duffel bag’s contents all over. He saw their spray of weapons hovering in the air as he flew back. The blast also launched the heart-shaped bed into the air, spinning like a twisting top.

  Miles hit the floor, the bag between his back and the hardwood. He could feel a couple small bulges in his back from inside the bag, but he assumed by their blocky shape, it was only ammo.

  Lifting his head and gazing over his chest, Miles saw a slurping slug-thing glopping out of the hole. At first it resembled a brownish hill of soft-serve ice cream, then it began to take shape, slimming down, molding itself into the outline of a woman. Skin slithered in all directions, mixing together, creating more shapes: the mounds of breasts, a flat stomach, legs and arms and long flowing black hair. Her eyes appeared on the blank face canvas, followed by a small nose and plump lips. The sickly color of her skin brightened to a radiant purple hue that illuminated the room in a brilliant swath before dimming and turning normal. Tentacles curled around her, starting at her ankles and making their way up her naked plum-colored body like snakes encircling a helpless meal. The tentacles stammered above her shoulders, fast-moving like the tails on rattlers.

  As shocking and scary of a creation she was, Miles found himself becoming enticed by her beauty. Her breasts were so large but seemed so soft, and Miles imagined they would feel slightly springy in his hands. He wanted to squeeze them…to taste them…lick them.

  “Miles!”

  Hoffman’s voice snapped him out of the daze. Shame quickly washed away his arousal. He looked to his right, finding the mattress on its side. Hoffman had become free when it landed. On his knees, propped up on one hand, he used the other to buckle his pants.

  “Get out of here!” Hoffman yelled.

  “No,” said the she-creature. “Let him stay. I want him as mine.” She turned to Miles, her almond-colored eyes sweet and kind. “Wouldn’t you like that, Miles? Wouldn’t you like to stay here with me, Victoria? Do you not want to suckle from these nipples?” She poked a stiffened point with her finger, tracing its pinkish tip. Her lips quivered as she heaved a trembling breath.

  Miles did want that. But, he knew enough not to say it aloud. If his voice spoke the words, then he would belong to her forever.

  “Leave him alone!” shouted Hoffman. “It’s me you want! Remember, you want me to lay with you, not him. It’s me!”

  “In due time, old timer. Right now, I want you to witness the boy’s corruption. I want his tongue to roam my body.” Her hands rubbed across the glossy skin of her stomach, moving up to her breasts and cupping them. “Please Miles…come put your tongue on me.”

  Miles stood up.

  “No!” called Hoffman.

  Hoffman got to his feet, starting to run.

  A tentacle shot out from behind her and wound around Hoffman’s throat in an instant. He tensed, body going stiff and rigid. Tugging the tentacle, Hoffman couldn’t get it to let go.

  Miles saw this but hardly comprehended the action. He felt numb as he walked to Victoria, his feet too heavy to lift, so they scuffed across the dusty floor. In a moment, he was standing before her, trembling all over.

  “That’s my good boy,” she said. She reached out, placing a hand delicately on his cheek.

  Her touch sent a warm current through him. His penis hardened.

  “Get on your knees, my boy,” said Victoria, softly.

  Miles obeyed, dropping his limp arms onto the floor. His hand bumped something hard. Rubbing it with his finger, he realized what it was.

  “Such a poor, sad person you are.” She placed her hand flat on his forehead.

  Miles could feel her invading his mind, probing his thoughts. He tried to throw up barricades, but she knocked them down without any effort.

  “Yes, such anger for someone so young. I see your father came to us, and you blame him for your mother’s death. Your father was killed by the old man, wasn’t he?” She looked at Hoffman. “When you burned down our home last year, the boy’s father burned with it. What a fitting end to your chapter, Miles. First your father laid with me, and now you will follow in his steps.”

  “Leave…him…alone…” strained Hoffman.

  Ignoring Hoffman, Victoria looked down at Miles, mourning on her beautiful face. “I can love you, Miles, like no one else. I can show you true pleasure, happiness, and all you have to do is lie with me. I will teach you, guide you. And, you will become mine.”

  Miles was trembling so hard, he thought his spine might snap. His hand curled around the object on the floor.

  “Now, look at me,” she said.

  Miles leaned back, gazing up at Victoria’s perfect body. Her skin was moist from the little dots of perspiration sprinkled across. He pictured his hand wiping a trail through the wetness.

  “Stick out your tongue,” she said.

  Miles did. It felt like a dry piece of leather from how thirsty he was. He was angry at how quickly he’d obeyed her.

  Victoria spread her legs, opening the space between her thighs. Miles gazed up at the tight slit.


  “You see it?” she asked. Miles nodded. “Good. I want you to put your tongue there. Taste me, relish it. Let my juices flow into your mouth. Consume them. Quench your thirst with their power.”

  “Don’t…do…it…” grunted Hoffman.

  Miles raised his head, tongue extended in front of him like a pointing finger.

  Victoria’s lips curved into a dominant smile of victory.

  The look of accomplishment twisted into shock when Miles rammed the machete between her legs. Spindly torrents of black fluid rained down on his hands as he pushed the blade deeper, not stopping until the hilt touched the soft folds.

  Victoria bellowed a deep roar of pain that shook the walls. The tentacles stiffened like branches as her body tensed. Arms straight out, they were rigid and twitching.

  Uproars of growls and shrieks resonated from outside, Victoria’s army crying out for their maimed leader.

  Miles rolled away from her, scrambling to his feet. He ran for Hoffman who was now on the floor, clutching his throat and coughing as he tried to catch air. The tentacle that had been choking him was now a solid pole sticking out. He helped the man to his feet, draping Hoffman’s arm over his shoulder.

  Together, they watched Victoria.

  Pools of black gushed out from between her legs, spreading a murky river across the floor, spilling through the cracks. Her skin began to sag, dropping clumps as if melting. Her head sank into her shoulders, hips submerging into her thighs. A ball of yellow light appeared where her heart should be, swelling, brightening as the skin around it melted. A high-pitched hum intensified with the augmenting light.

  Hoffman pulled away from Miles, and looked around. He ran to the nearest table, grabbed a chair, and ran back.

  Holding the chair above his head, he heaved it.

  The chair broke against Victoria’s chest, its impact sending her into the massive hole she’d caused during her spectacular entrance.

  Then Miles was being dragged away. Harsh white light poured through the small gaps between the parquets, cracking a jagged fault through the floor. The walls thunderously recoiled, tilting one way and another. The ceiling quaked, sprinkling dust like snow, congealing Miles’s sweaty hair. Wind buffeted Miles, throwing his clothes so tightly against his body he thought they might split in half. Heavy chunks pounded down like hail, but Hoffman was quick to guide him in the right direction to dodge their attacks.