Ghost Heart

by John Palisano

  Yes, and for a very long moment I thought pretty hard about what the hell I was getting myself into. These were guys who’d killed my best friend, my uncle Dave, and another good friend in my coworker Jimmy. Heck, I didn’t even like to think of Jimmy as my coworker. He was much more than that to me. A good friend. All of them lost at the hands of these evil fucks. Not to mention what they’d put me through. I thought long and hard about the pain I’d endured at the hospital and what they’d done to keep Minarette away from me. It was as though they were her pimps. That made me very angry. I’d finally found someone who I thought was perfect, despite everything that was going on, and they wouldn’t let me have her. She was the one thing that was making everything worth it. I was so angry at them. There had to be some justice for me so I’d be able to get revenge. I needed to see them suffer worse than I had. There had to be a way.

  One thing was very clear to me: I’d been spotted. When Minarette had come over to me, Damian’s crew knew where she was and who she was talking with. My face got hot. Had she used me? Had they put her up to it? Was she actually being sincere? Maybe she was trying to warn me to get the hell out of there? I ran through our conversation over and over in my head, but nothing she said seemed to add up to anything more than her just saying hello.

  The music got louder and more intense. The lights dimmed. Good. I didn’t like what they were playing, but was glad the party seemed to be kicking in. That’d only help my cause. It’d be much easier to sneak around while everyone was dancing their brains out. I wouldn’t need to try as hard. That could only work in my favor.

  I made my way to the edge of the Universe, where there were little benches and alcoves; it was the same place where Lucy and I had almost kissed. I had a flashback for a moment before I shook it off—Damian standing over me, his clan of murderers surrounding me, threatening me. I heard my uncle’s voice in my head—thought about him dead because of them. Thought about Jimmy dead, and was glad I had heat packed around my ankle. If they did anything, there’d be lead exchanged, come what may. I’d have their blood this time, come hell if it had to.

  Whatever buzz the beer had given me had already worn off. Between the heat of the club and the adrenaline, the tiny bit of alcohol in the booze got burned right through. Probably should have done a shot or two. That would have lasted longer.

  There were several people who walked past me and looked headed down toward the front of the stage, where the door was. I did my best to look slick and blended in with them, pretending to just go along for the stroll. No one looked twice at me, and we were close to the door in no time. I didn’t recognize anyone, but that didn’t matter. Sipping my beer and nodding along to the music, I just looked like any of the other club goers that night. No big deal. It would be easy to slip inside the door. No one was looking. There didn’t seem to be any bouncers or security at the door, either. I thought that maybe I should take the chance, and so I did.

  Making for the door, I thought, Just act like you belong there. Act like this is no big deal and that you’re supposed to be doing this. That’s ninety percent of it, after all. Just looking like you’re confident. That’s key to not getting stopped and people letting you do what you want.

  It worked. I opened the door. There was nothing but black. In a moment, my eyes adjusted and I made out the stairs, but thankfully there weren’t any lights on that would give it away that the door had been opened. I was inside and shut the door as quickly and smoothly as possible. No one seemed to have followed me, and there weren’t any people in front of me, as far as I could tell. It was a bit nerve-wracking, going into an unfamiliar place in the dark, especially considering the nasty sons of bitches lingering around the Universe. If one of them came out from the dark, there’d be no one to see. I had my gun, but it’d take a bit, and…

  Did my best to push that idea out of my head and move forward. I’d been through the scenarios countless times. Just keep your head, I thought. Keep cool.

  At the top of the stairs I made a sharp left so that I was actually at the lip just offstage. I could see the entire screen lit up from the projector, only in reverse. The logo of the club spun around in a star field. The empty stage was softly illuminated from the projector and screen—an eerie blue cast colored everything, but fell off to black a few feet away. There were voices from the other side of the stage, so I crossed as quickly as I could. As I did, I felt a surge of adrenaline because for a moment I kind of felt like how it’d be to perform up there in front of an adoring crowd. How cool? Scary, too, though.

  Following the voices, it quickly became apparent they were not directly on the stage. They had to have been coming from down below, in the old makeup and dressing rooms. I recalled seeing pictures of the tunnels beyond when I was doing the research.

  There was another stairwell on the other side when I arrived. Crimson light glowed from below. Laughter rose and I headed down toward the sound.

  What if someone stopped me? What if they saw me and knew I shouldn’t be here? What if it was them and I was cornered? Then what?

  They won’t. Just be slick.

  Working through the aches and pains of my still-healing body, I made haste descending the creaky stairs, leaving my empty bottle on the floor. I hated that they were so loud, so I went as fast as possible and tried to make myself light. Didn’t really work, and I swore I was one small move away from tripping and causing a disaster for myself. Crap. The safety was on the gun, right? If I fell and it was off, could I accidentally trigger it and shoot myself, or someone innocent? Be careful, you idiot. Take it easy. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea of all time after all.

  Grasping the handrail as hard as I could, I made it to the bottom. My feet touched the cold, ancient concrete floor. It wasn’t smooth and clean-cut like modern concrete, but scratchy and jumbled looking. The downstairs area with the dressing rooms looked more like it’d been burrowed and carved, like a subway tunnel, rather than constructed with any modern, safe techniques. There was a musty smell that permeated everything. Work lights and clamp lights were strung every twenty feet or so, connected to the modern world with long lines of orange extension cords. Where there were no lights, the hallway fell into dark shadows.

  Coming from a room two down, the voices rose with laughter again. I tried to see if there was a door to the dressing room, but couldn’t see that far down. There were many dark areas to hide in, though. I planned to do my best not to cast any moving shadows. I did not want anyone seeing me, if at all possible.

  Inching my way closer to the dressing room, I could see shadows moving against the opposite wall. There was no door that I could see, and if there was one, it was open. I made it to a dark spot and slipped against the wall quietly. It appeared packed inside. I swear they looked like a bunch of court jesters, the way they were dressed in weird patterns and hats. Must’ve been some style I hadn’t noticed yet. So weird. I squinted and realized they were focused on something at the far end of the dressing room. Perfect.

  Don’t hesitate. Take the chance. Hurry past while no one is looking. That could change in a second. All it’d take is for one of them to turn around.

  I did.

  As I passed, I took in as much as I could. There were naked people and the others were painting on them. The models didn’t look happy or comfortable at all. Humiliated. I couldn’t see exactly what was being painted on them, but it appeared to be symbols. The jesters laughed like hyenas.

  At least it isn’t the crew, I thought. So keep going.

  I found nothing but darkness just beyond the dressing room. How was I going to see? How would I find my way through the tunnels? I hadn’t thought about that. Of course it wouldn’t be light down there. Why would it be? I should’ve gotten some night-vision glasses or something. I thought about using my phone’s flashlight function, but knew that’d be giving me to them on a platter. What else could I do to see?

  Stay still. Wai
t. Your eyes may open up. Wait for the rods inside your eyeballs to do their thing. It may be enough. It may be better than you think in a few seconds.

  It was. My eyes adjusted, and while my vision was not perfectly clear, I could see, and it was plenty good enough. I’d panicked and worried, but somehow it’d worked out. I knew I shouldn’t have beaten myself up so much, but did make a mental note to think through variables a little more next time.

  The passage was a little bit smaller at the end, and there was a door at the end. It was ancient and had to have been painted over countless times—one of those deals where the hard edges of the hardware were rounded from the multiple coats. There was a dark smudge on the handle. It appeared fresh. Assuming it was from a dirty maintenance worker, I reached out, only to find it was warm and wet. Pulling my hand back, I looked at it, even though it was dark. Instinctively I knew it was blood.

  Damn it.

  Minarette had told me Damian’s crew hid down in the tunnels. What else was I expecting? After what these people—or whatever they were—had done, I wasn’t expecting them to have neon lights announcing their home to me or anyone else.

  Fuck it, I thought. Reaching out, I grabbed the handle again, nasty wet spot and all. I gripped it strong and pulled. It didn’t move much, so I gave it some muscle, and it gave, making a big thudding sound. Shit. It was loud enough the jesters in the dressing room would have heard it. I kept still for a moment and listened over my shoulder. There was another rise in their laughter. They didn’t seem to have noticed. I took the moment to pull the door open even more, slide inside, and then pull it closed. I had to wipe my hand on my pants. That didn’t matter so much to me in the light of all things.

  Beyond the door, there were lights—Christmas lights—that’d been strung up along one side of the hallway. It was actually nicer than the other hall. It’d been finished with wood. I kept moving. It curved around toward my left about fifty feet ahead of me.

  A low-pitched sound echoed off the walls. It sounded like a dying animal. I slowed my step; what was I about to get into?

  When I made it to the end of the hallway and slowly looked around the wall, I noticed the area beyond opened up dramatically. I’d found what had to be a room equal to, if not greater in size than the main room of the Universe. Looking downward instead of up, I realized I was near the top of the great place instead of the bottom. Things shifted. Yellow and red lights created pools of light. I stepped closer and saw that there were slab-sized steps that made their way to the bottom. Perched on the steps, I saw silhouetted figures, many paired, hanging out. I’d found their lair. I knew it. This was their secret place. So how would I continue to hide? The area was big, but surely they’d notice a stranger.

  Then? I thought of how simple it had been for me to find. It hadn’t taken much, and there had not been any guards to speak of. The great room must have been a kind of unspoken secret.

  Dirge-like hard rock music played, which made me laugh a little inside. They were certainly living up to a Goth cliché, weren’t they? I fully expected expensive frocked long coats, top hats, monocles and plastic fangs.

  Instead? The people I saw looked like everybody—normal for all intents. There were boys who looked like they played for the high school football team mixed in with folks who looked like they worked for one of the old blue-blood insurance companies. There were older people, too. Some looked homeless. None I recognized.

  If I made my way down, surely I’d fit in. I wouldn’t look so out of place.

  “You smell different,” a familiar voice from behind said. I froze in step. They’d spotted me. Of course they had. It was inevitable.

  I didn’t say anything. I waited for the strike. None came.

  The voice, like I said, was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

  There was a tap on my right shoulder. I was obliged to at least turn, which I did, and after I did, my jaw dropped.

  “Jimmy?” I said. “How…?”

  He put up a finger. “Shush,” he said. “Don’t get too excited. They can sense that a mile away. They love that. Stay calm, like a rock garden in your heart.”

  Jimmy looked the same. He looked different. His features, like his hair and facial structure, were exactly as I remembered, but there was something deep within him that had profoundly changed. “Good to see you,” he said. “But you shouldn’t be here.”

  “Why not?” I asked. I was not sure what to say next.

  “They’ll kill you for coming in.”

  “As opposed to their trying to kill me for doing nothing?”

  “If they’d wanted to kill you, they would’ve done so already.”

  “I doubt it,” I said, lying and confused. Was he trying to warn me? “Speaking of which? How the hell are you down here? I thought you were dead?”

  “I am,” he said. “In most ways. Dead. Kaput. A goner.” He waved his hands in front of me. “But in many ways, I’m more alive than I’ve ever been.”

  “Your wife needs to know. They had a service for you.”

  “That part of me is finished,” he said. “I’ve moved on.”

  “This is crazy. How are you here? Everyone thinks you’re dead. Makes no sense to me. Did you fake your death?”

  He clamped a hand on my shoulder. Had he gotten way stronger than I remembered? “I just found something else. Nothing else matters now.”

  “How can that be?” I asked.

  He pointed at the far wall. There were figures there that appeared to be reclining. It was hard to tell if they were men or women because slithering, pale tendrils covered them. Some of the tips had vanished inside their bodies, but there was not blood. The skin of the figures was markedly pale, and my first thought was that they’d been drained of blood.

  Unbelievably, I stepped closer. “What is that?” I asked.

  “That’s the best feeling in the world,” Jimmy said. “That’s what it is.”

  “How can that be? They’re being killed.”

  “No. They’re being invigorated. Made new. Made to be forever,” he said.

  “By what?”

  Before he could answer, I saw what he referred to. A large mass covered the sizable wall opposite us. It pulsed and lived. Its tendrils were what connected inside the reclining bodies. There were eyes of several sizes scattered throughout the massive creature, but it didn’t have a face that I could make out. Instead, it was an organic, amorphous thing that had somehow attached itself to the wall like an ever-growing mound of dark, muscular tissue. At its ends, the edges came to points and stretched outward along the walls and ceilings, reaching throughout the large chamber. I stood within, feeling trapped in a macabre womb.

  One of its eyes caught me. How, I don’t know, because it was far away from me, and I’d hoped to blend in. I knew and it knew, almost instantly, that I was a stranger, an intruder, a threat.

  Without warning, and faster than I could register, three guys surrounded me. Jimmy slipped behind them. “Go easy on him,” he said before I saw him no more.

  “Hey,” I said. They all looked pale, their eyes glossed over like sea creatures pulled from the depths. “I’ll take off. Was just looking for the bathroom.”

  I was grabbed from each side and lifted up and off the floor in one fast swoop. They carried me down the large stairs. People—if you could even call them that—the pale masses stared at me as they did. Everyone knew I was an intruder. All the breath went out of me. I raced through ways I could escape. I had the gun, but they held me so firmly I couldn’t think of how I’d get it, fire off a shot and get out of there. My heart beat faster and I felt dizzy. How could I have been so dumb? Just marching in like that? Talking to Jimmy out in the open? He’d thrown me off. Seeing someone I thought dead messed with my head.

  The eyes of the beast on the wall followed me. It slithered in anticipation. Were they going to sacrifice me for it
, whatever it was? Of course they were.

  In the center of the room, at the bottom of the stairs, I saw grates in the floor with what looked like some kind of blue flame beneath them. I couldn’t place what it was before they pulled me toward the other side, where there were steps that went back up and led toward the specimen-like bodies and the beast on the wall. Up close, the creature was even larger and more intimidating than I’d thought. The chamber was about four stories high, and the thing easily stretched to the top and was about thirty feet wide.

  When I looked down at the person in front of me, I saw most definitely that it was a woman. Her breasts gave her away, which were exposed so that the beast’s tendrils could wrap around them, gently squeezing them, soaking in the glistening discharge from their tips. Her face was so pale I could spot several gray lines under the surface—veins visible through translucent flesh. She looked right at me, but I couldn’t spot a pupil. Her eyes were black and reflected several organic colors, reminding me of the spilled pools of motor oil we often dealt with at the shop—and of the dark blood coursing through Minarette in my dream.

  “Put him down,” one said.

  Without another word, they manhandled me, twisted me and put me on my back on a plank-like bed, where they pulled my arms painfully behind me so that they were underneath the plank. Something curled around my wrists and tightened. Was it one of the beast’s tendrils? I looked out and saw the pale masses inching toward me, curious about what I was. Above me, the beast looked down, and I swear it looked anxious and ravished all at once.

  Then the group of brutes moved away from me enough to let me go; however, they kept close by to watch what would happen.

  The beast’s tendrils found me and wrapped around my throat, squeezing enough to make me light-headed.