Colony of the Lost

by Derik Cavignano

  He tossed a stone into the water. “The other night, the same man broke into Jay’s house. Jay shot him in the shoulder and then spent the night in jail because he was ... because he had too much to drink.”

  He shook his head. “This thing, it looks like a man, but it’s really some sort of monster. And I’m afraid that if it knows who Jay and I are, then it knows who you are too. It thinks Samuel told us something that could hurt it. That’s why it’s coming after us. So you have to be careful. If you see a strange man, yell for your parents. Then call me or Jay.” He handed her a slip of paper with their phone numbers on it. “I haven’t talked to Jay yet, but when I do, we’ll try to figure a way out of this, okay?”

  Sarah nodded. “Are you scared?”

  Tim knew it wouldn’t do any good to lie to her. He took her hand. “Yeah, I’m scared. But at least we don’t have to be scared alone.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Jay stood within the shadows of Frank Patterson’s foyer. A rancid smell wafted out of the kitchen and tugged at his gag reflex. He followed Frank into the living room and sat down in a tattered gray recliner. It smelled even worse in here, a noxious mixture of sweat, urine, and wet dog.

  He watched Frank ease himself onto the couch, his shoulder wrapped in a bloodied bandage. Frank’s face strained with the effort of this simple task, sweat glistening on his forehead.

  He met Jay’s gaze. “I can’t decide if your coming here was brave or foolish.”

  “Neither can I. But I need to know what’s going on. I thought you might be able to tell me.”

  Frank mopped sweat from his brow and studied Jay for a long moment. “I can tell you a great deal. More than you bargained for, I imagine.” His eyes gleamed in the lamplight, narrowing slightly as his forehead wrinkled and the corners of his mouth curled into a grin. At that moment he looked utterly insane, and just as Jay began to question the wisdom of coming here, Frank began to speak.

  “It started about two weeks ago, shortly before the disappearance of Ryan Brakowski. I was on my nightly walk in the woods, a ritual I started ever since the passing of my wife. It always seemed to ease my pain, to put me at peace. Somehow in nature I felt close to Mary. Almost as if I could sense her presence. At times I thought if I just concentrated hard enough I could hear her voice in the wind.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I know how it must sound, but after the cancer took her, I withdrew from the world. I let my imagination run wild, because in the end that’s all I had left. A warehouse filled with years and years of memories that I could sometimes bring to life.

  “So when one night I heard a voice in the wind, a voice drawing me toward some secret destination, I allowed myself to believe that it was Mary, that somehow she had broken through the boundary of death and had come back to me. I followed the voice through the woods, a voice that I seemed to be hearing with my mind rather than with my ears.

  “I don’t know how much time passed before I found the cave. All I know for sure is that I never would have found it at all if the voice hadn’t told me where to look. To me it seemed like an ordinary boulder concealed by a tangle of thorns. But the voice was right; it was a cave. The opening faced away from the path, a dark crevice barely wide enough for a grown man to pass through sideways. But even that was partially obscured by a growth of ivy clinging to the rock.

  “I remember wading through the bramble and tearing away the ivy with my bare hands. I can’t recall there being any pain, but I imagine there must have been because when I got home later that evening my pants were bloodied and I had scratches all over my arms and legs. I squeezed into the cave and walked along the main passageway. It was pitch black and I couldn’t see a thing, so I just closed my eyes and followed the sound of the voice. I think a part of me might have been scared, maybe even terrified, but for some reason I couldn’t turn back. It was like being in a trance. Like a sleepwalker who can’t wake up.

  “I walked for a long time, winding further and further into the dark. I could hear water dripping all around me, echoing in muted plops. I could hear the voice growing stronger, getting louder. I wanted to turn and run away, but I couldn’t. I was drawn toward the voice. Mesmerized by it.

  “After awhile I detected light. At first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, but then I realized there really was light up ahead. It had a strange bluish tint to it, more of a glow than a light. Phosphorescent—I guess that’s the word for it.

  “The pathway led into a cavern that ended at a pool of water. The pool appeared to stretch back about a hundred feet or so, the water so smooth and black that, at first, I mistook it for glass. I figured some lava flow must have caused it thousands of years ago. But when I walked out to the edge, I stared down at my reflection and saw it ripple.

  “I knew then that it was water, but I couldn’t imagine what would have disturbed it because there wasn’t any wind in the cavern and I hadn’t kicked any pebbles into it. After awhile, I began to feel like I wasn’t alone in the cave, that somewhere someone was watching me. But even so, I couldn’t take my eyes off the pool.

  “Then a weird thing started happening—my reflection began to contort as if I were gazing into a funhouse mirror. It was a few seconds before I realized that my reflection wasn’t changing shape at all, that instead another image was being superimposed onto mine. At first I didn’t see how that was possible, but then it occurred to me that it was something on the other side of the water, something drawing nearer to the surface every second.”

  “The water broke as I stared down at it, sending an icy spray into my eyes. I stumbled back and wiped my face, and when I opened my eyes, I saw a creature standing in the pool. Staring right at me. It was massive, covered with scales, and gave off a swampy stench that nearly made me vomit.

  “I wanted to turn and run, but its eyes held me captive, its pupils glowing like the embers of dying fire. It growled at me, deep and loud ... almost sounded like a laugh. And then its lips parted with a kind of sickening slurp and revealed a jaw full of razor-sharp fangs. I staggered back a step, but even then I knew it was too late. The creature made an awful shrieking sound, and a jet of liquid shot from its mouth and hit me straight in the eyes.

  “I fell back and smacked my head against the ground, rolling around while that stuff burned into my eyes and the creature laughed in the rippling water. When I pulled my hands away, I saw a sticky black goo dripping from my fingers like tar. I could feel it in my eyes, warm, wet clumps of it caught in my lashes and stuck behind my eyelids. I remember lying there, screaming, sure that I would go blind. But after awhile the burning stopped and I felt my eyes soaking up the goo like a sponge.

  “And that’s all I remember. I don’t even know how I got out of there, how I made it home. But all that night ... I felt strange. Like I wasn’t completely with it, like I had somehow become detached from my body. Even my dog Buster noticed it. He shied away from me all night and just stared at me from across the room, cocking his head and whimpering. When I tried to approach him, his back bristled and he darted into the living room. I found him cowering on the couch, and when I went closer to him, he peed all over the cushions. He was shaking all over. You would have thought he was a Chihuahua instead of a one hundred and twenty-pound Rottweiler.

  “I should have been concerned or even confused, but instead I found myself laughing. A part of me wanted to scream at that because the laugh I was hearing belonged to the creature in the cave—that deep laugh-growl. It scared Buster so bad he let out a kind of whining bark and leaped off the couch.

  “He never made it to the floor. I sprang after him with reflexes I never knew I possessed and caught his throat in my teeth. I bit down as hard as I could, tearing into fur and flesh until I tasted his blood pouring into my throat and running down my chin.

  “After that, I lost consciousness. I’m not sure how long. When I woke up, Buster was gone, but the carpet was stained with his blood.” He motioned to the floor with one hand, and Jay looked down to s
ee a large maroon stain like some sinister inkblot stretching from the couch to the coffee table.

  “I never did find Buster, and I think it’s best that I never do. I killed Ryan Brakowski too. Only I didn’t remember it until afterwards. I had another one of those blackouts, and when I woke up my shirt was smeared with blood. It wasn’t until a few hours later while lying in bed that I remembered pulling Ryan from the street and dragging him into the woods. When I got to the pool, the creature was waiting.

  “The boy kicked and squirmed and tried to wriggle away, but the creature just sat there and watched. When the boy’s voice finally gave out, it slit his throat with a hooked claw. I dropped him into the water after that, and the creature pulled the body beneath the surface. The water churned, and I could only imagine what was happening. After awhile the water went still, and I could sense that somehow the creature had grown stronger.”

  Frank shifted in his seat and grimaced. “Ryan wasn’t the first. There was another boy before him, a seventh grade runaway from Albany. He had flagged me down to ask for a ride to Boston. I picked him up, intending to take him to the police station, but before I got there, I began to feel strange, like I was about to faint. The next thing I knew, I lost consciousness. When I finally came to hours later, sitting where you are now, covered in dirt and soaked with blood, I knew I must have done something terrible.

  “But the amnesia didn’t last very long. After a few hours I remembered taking the boy into the cave, remembered every detail of what … transpired, even though I wasn’t conscious of it at the time.” He shook his head. “It was the same with the others.”

  Jay bit a fingernail. “You’re saying the creature was controlling you? You’re sure it didn’t order you to kill those kids and you obeyed out of fear?”

  “It happened just like I said. I can’t stop what I don’t know about. Believe me, I would give anything to take back that night in the woods. Anything.” He folded a hand over his wounded shoulder. “Would you believe me if I told you this thing has a name?” When Jay didn’t respond, he leaned forward and whispered. “It calls itself Trell.”

  “Trell?” He wondered how Frank would have known such a thing. “What is it?”

  Frank shook his head. “A vampire? A demon? I don’t know. Maybe a little of both. What scares me most is its intelligence. I told you before that I wasn’t conscious when it seized control of me. That was true ... but only at first. The last couple of times I managed to stay awake, but I don’t think Trell knows it.

  “When it’s inside me, it uses my brain as well as its own. I can feel it sifting through my memories and picking my mind of the knowledge it needs to survive in our world. It knows to be wary of policemen, it knows how to look up an address, it knows that a gun can harm it. As soon as you pulled that gun on me last night, Trell withdrew from my body. If I had died, Trell wouldn’t have died with me. Not as long as it escaped before my death.”

  He sighed. “And Trell is getting stronger. It used me in the beginning to nurture it, to build its strength. It was barely alive when it first summoned me, so weak it couldn’t even venture out of its pool. But now ...” He shook his head. “It won’t need me much longer. Soon it will emerge from its cave and begin hunting on its own.”

  “But what does it want?”

  “The same as you or I—to live, to eat … to breed.”

  Jay shook his head. “This is crazy.”

  Nothing a little alcohol won’t fix.

  But he brushed the thought aside. “Where exactly is this cave?”

  Frank shrugged.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? I thought you said that recently you’ve been able to remain conscious.”

  “Yes, but not the entire time. When I tried to map the journey, Trell sensed what I was doing and pushed me into unconsciousness.” He surprised Jay with a grin. “But what I don’t think Trell knows is that during those times when it’s mining my brain for information, I can do the same thing to it. With enough time, enough practice, I might be able to discover something to help us destroy it. It’s the only reason I haven’t killed myself.”

  Jay folded his arms and sat back. “We’ve got to do something to stop Trell from using you. We’ve got to stop it from killing again.”

  “You’ve got to lock me up, keep me…” His words trailed off into an incoherent garble.

  “Frank? You okay?”

  Convulsions jerked Frank’s body, his eyes rolling back to the whites.

  “Oh Christ,” Jay muttered. He sprang to his feet just as Frank slid onto the floor and thrashed on the carpet. He was fighting Trell. But the question was… could he win?

  “Cellar,” Frank moaned. “Through ... the ... kitchen ... Quick!”

  Jay glanced into the kitchen and choked back a wave of panic. Could he get him into the cellar before Trell seized control?

  Move! Before it’s too late.

  He grabbed Frank by the wrists and dragged him into the kitchen where a tower of dirty dishes rose from the sink. The kitchen had three doors—two against the opposite wall and one against the wall to his left.

  But which one led into the cellar?

  He dropped Frank onto the cracked linoleum and yanked open the first door: a bathroom. The second door had both a slide bolt and an eyehook lock. It had to be the cellar.

  On the floor behind him, Frank kicked his legs and uttered a menacing growl.

  Jay unlatched the eyehook with jittery fingers, but the slide bolt refused to budge. “Come on, come on!” He smacked the door with the heel of his hand, striking the jamb just below the lock. That seemed to loosen the bolt enough to enable him to wriggle it free. He flung the door open and exposed a rickety flight of stairs descending into darkness.

  Behind him, the thing that was either Frank or Trell lurched across the floor and groped for the edge of the kitchen table.

  Jay drew his gun with one hand and helped Frank to his feet with the other. As Jay steered him toward the cellar door, Frank spun around and belted him across the face with a right hook.

  The blow caught Jay by surprise and sent him stumbling into the table. He tripped over a chair and fell, the impact knocking the gun from his hand. He lunged to retrieve it, but Frank’s work boot stomped on the back of his hand and pinned him to the floor.

  Luminous red eyes glared down at him. “You were a fool to come here.”

  Jay struggled to free his hand, but Trell pressed down with all of Frank’s weight.

  Trell eyed the gun. “Looking for this?” it asked, keeping its foot anchored on Jay’s hand as it stooped for the gun.

  Jay knew he wouldn’t get another chance. He curled his legs to his chest and kicked upward with all the force he could muster. His feet struck Trell in the groin and drove it into the sink where it collided with the tower of dishes and sent them crashing to the floor.

  Jay snatched up the gun and scrambled to his feet, leveling the barrel at Trell. “Into the cellar! Now!”

  Trell grinned. “Why don’t you just pull the trigger?”

  “I will if I have to.”

  “Why not have a drink first? Some beer? A bottle of whiskey, perhaps?”

  “Shut up! I’ll blow your head off. I swear to God I will.”

  “God? You think God cares what happens to you? I’m the one who controls whether you live or die. You should be praying to me. The people of Freetown didn’t understand that—I think you can guess what happened to them.”

  “This isn’t the 17th century anymore. Technology has come a long way since Freetown. So get ready, because we’re going to find you. And kill you.”

  “The town drunk and a couple of kids? I’d say the odds are against you.”

  Jay waved the gun. “Last warning: get into the cellar.”

  “Go on and shoot. I’ll be out of this body long before the walls are splattered with Frank’s brains. And I’ll come back for you. You and those you seek to protect. Tim, Sarah ... your lady friend.” Trell grinned. “Tha
t’s right, Jay. I know all about Crystal. Where she lives, what she looks like. Perhaps I’ll even pay her a visit in my true form. Show her what a real fuck feels like.”

  “You stay away from her! Do you hear me?” He almost pulled the trigger. Almost destroyed any chance he had of discovering a way to kill Trell.

  He shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans, grabbed a kitchen chair, and rushed Trell like a linebacker on a blitz. Trell’s lips formed a tiny “O” of surprise as the legs of the chair caught it in the chest and sent it staggering back toward the open cellar door.

  With a final thrust, Jay drove the beast over the threshold and into the darkness where its screams mingled with the sound of its body thudding down the stairs.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Dusk settled over Washaka Woods in a blaze of orange and gold. Shadows stole in at the passing of the light, gathering between the trees and weaving a blue-gray cloak about the land.

  Margaret Connelly watched it all through her kitchen window, a dishtowel draped over her shoulder. In the past, she never paid the woods much heed—it was just a bunch of close-knit pines, a breeding ground for fat mosquitoes and poison ivy—but lately she couldn’t focus on anything else.

  Although it was now pitch black and impossible to see more than the shadowy outline of the trees against the night sky, she felt that somewhere deep in the woods where even the brightest moonlight failed to penetrate, something was watching her.

  Trell, her mind whispered. Its name is Trell.

  And with that came a haunting image of an eerily lit chamber, an image which surely had to be a shred of memory from some half-forgotten nightmare.

  ***

  She lay on her back beneath a ceiling of stalactites. Her head rocked rhythmically, thumping against cold, wet stone. Her view of the cavern swam in and out of focus with each thrust. Water dripped from the hulking form that loomed over her. Icy droplets spattered her stomach and thighs, prickling her flesh with goose bumps.