by Park, J. R.
Lost in his rant, Jonathan Bones didn’t see Scullin turn to King with a quizzical look.
‘Can you find one?’ he whispered.
‘It is difficult without contact but I think there is a possibility,’ King replied, his smile widening as he spoke. ‘I can sense one whose heart is so dark, and they’ve already been exposed. It’s almost like they were prepared for me.’
‘Such is the way,’ came Scullin’s hushed and unsurprised affirmation.
‘Perfect,’ King replied, ‘they’ll be my puppet.’
Kayleigh smelt the plumes of cigarette smoke from outside the car. She smiled and wondered if she asked nicely, he’d let her have one.
‘It’s too late you know.’
A voice slithered from behind her, making her jump with a start.
She turned to see Sergeant Byrne looking directly at her, his manic panting soothed to an agitated state that was closer to calmness than she’d seen in him, but still far removed from serenity.
‘It’s too late. There’s no point fighting it,’ his breath smelt of stale coffee. She could taste the foul flavour as he spoke in the closed confines of the police car. ‘I’ve seen it. You have to give in, you have to let go. There’s no use fighting.’
Kayleigh leant back against the windscreen, trying to put as much distance between them. Despite the barred partition that kept him caged she felt unsafe; he unnerved her with his spasming ticks, wild eyes and oafish frame.
‘You’ve no idea what’s going on,’ she retorted, unwilling to entertain the ravings of a mad man.
‘I do. I really do. I know you’re afraid. I know you’re going to die. And I know there’s something in me,’ his ramblings grew hushed and increasingly sinister as spittle dribbled down his chiselled chin. He started to shake as he eyed the teenager. ‘I can feel it.’
His fingers clenched the cage that separated them, poking his fingertips through and reaching out towards her; shaking the metallic mesh as he tried to loosen it from its fittings.
Suddenly, he let out a shriek of pain.
‘You’ve got to help me,’ he cried, making a plea for help. ‘You’ve got to-’
His words were cut short as the agony overwhelmed him. Kayleigh watched in shock as his arms bulged, inflating like balloons and splitting the fabric of his uniform as it strained against his increasing bulk. Byrne clenched his jaw as his skin flushed red with the rising blood that pumped below the surface of his skin. His veins popped out from his neck and pulsed like undulating fibres. Kayleigh went for the door, but it was locked. In panic she looked around for the central locking system, but the workings of a car, especially a police car, were foreign to her.
Byrne’s hands began to swell, filling the holes of the mesh he’d pushed his fingers through. They continued growing, the grating cutting into the skin until the ends of his fingers were severed from the pressure, dropping off and revealing gnarled, claw-like bone. His neck continued to bulge, and grew out like a croaking frog as his veins turned black, filling his skin with a patchwork of midnight shades. He opened his mouth, which gapped unnaturally wide, releasing a two foot tongue that felt its way across the buckling cage, leaving a slimy trail of salvia in its wake. Amidst a strange, tormented, gargling sound, the officer’s torso inflated, filling the back of the police car as Kayleigh banged on the window for help, desperate to alert PC Pritchard.
Paul stood up and turned in time to see the back passenger window shatter. An arm, four times its normal length, smashed through the glass and caught the PC on his shoulder. Its bony digits dug into his flesh like talons. He fell forwards as the thing that was Sergeant Byrne ripped through the body of the patrol car, tearing it in two.
Free from its captivity the monster stood ten feet high on all fours like some bloated, malformed gazelle. Its body puffed and deflated with the rise and fall of its laboured breaths whilst a congealed, sweaty substance slipped from skin that looked diseased in its colouring and paper thinness.
It crouched down to eye Kayleigh as she sat, trapped in the front half of the police car. Torn from the rest of the vehicle, the driver’s compartment still had the caged fencing, giving it some form of protection against the monster as its greedy eyes, still very much Byrne’s, studied her with a hunger. How long these defences would last was only a matter of time.
‘Over here you ugly fucker,’ PC Pritchard shouted.
The monster turned towards him, its bulbous head housing a mouth that looked more like a ragged tear across its face. A large tongue hung from the ugly slit, drooling with an unknown need whilst needle-like teeth poked out at awkward angles as if they’d been crammed in by an overzealous creator.
Opening its lethal maw, it unleashed a ferocious but broken sound, a disturbing aural cocktail of a roar from a grizzly bear and something akin to the grinding of metal, before launching itself towards the Police Constable.
Bounding with surprising speed on its sinewy limbs, it galloped after its prey. Paul turned and ran but the monster was on him in moments, capturing him in one of its large hands and pinning him to the ground.
Kayleigh tried to escape from the wreckage of the car, but what was once her protection had become her prison. The crushed metal had folded in, sealing the doors shut, despite her efforts to force them open.
She watched the monster run its tongue over PC Pritchard’s face before sinking its teeth into his already wounded shoulder, biting hard into the flesh and pulling back, slowly tearing his arm from his torso in jagged, jerky movements. He called out, begging for help as the thing that was once Sergeant Byrne chewed on his bicep and crunched through his bones.
The monster lowered its head again to take another bite. This time Kayleigh looked away. Paul’s screams were so primal, so raw in their terror, they echoed through the girl’s very core. She dived to the floor of the car, hiding in the foot well, and tried to block out the sounds. Noises of tearing and crunching pounded her ears, mixed with the sickening sound of liquid splashing like heavy rain. It was as if the storm had finally broken, but the teeth-grinding tension remained ample in the atmosphere of terror.
‘Fuck knows how they did it,’ Jonathan Bones continued his diatribe as Barry made his ungainly way towards the case. ‘But there I am, making my withdrawal, and bang, Nobody move. They take what’s mine, lock it in their own briefcase and leave.’
Grinch aimed his gun at Cross with exaggerated movements, untrusting of the violence that emanated from her expression.
Bones glanced over and smiled, then turned his attention to Jake and his friends. ‘I’ve got to say thanks to you little shits for running into them just as they left the bank. You knocked them flying!’ He laughed with enforced enthusiasm. ‘I have to admit I think they over reacted,’ his laughter faded as he wiped the remains of his mirth from his water filled eyes. ‘Must have thought you were part of my gang. That or just someone else that wanted what’s in there,’ he motioned his gun towards the briefcase. ‘There isn’t a person on this planet that wouldn’t, if they knew it existed.’
Bones trailed of for a moment, lost in a day dream of wonder; a private reverie that had him momentarily spellbound.
He quickly snapped back to reality.
‘But like I said, thanks to you kids for stalling them. Gave us time to get our shit together and start tracking them. Fuck me, you weren’t too hard to find.’ Jonathan looked towards Scullin and his cronies. ‘Just had to follow the trail of destruction. You lot sure make a mess,’ he chuckled at his own comment. ‘My girlfriend says I talk too much. Do I talk too mu-?’
An unearthly roar halted the gunman’s rant followed by the far off screams of a dying man.
‘What the fuck is that?’ Jonathan ducked; an instinctive reflex to the barrage of sounds. ‘Barry, grab the case.’
Barry leant forward and picked up the briefcase, huffing and puffing as he straightened himself back up.
‘Coming boss,’ he called back.
‘Something’s coming alri
ght,’ King muttered to himself.
‘What are you smiling at?’ Jonathan directed his question to King. ‘You want me to shoot you again?’
His question went unanswered as a deafening screech cut through the air. The thumping sound of galloping feet shook the ground and everyone turned in time to see Barry drop the case, spasming in shock as a long, bony appendage sliced into his back and out through his chest. The monstrous form of the misshapen Sergeant Byrne knocked him to the ground as it landed beside him, then lifted his still quivering body. Placing the back of Barry’s head into its razor filled mouth, it crunched into the bone, splitting the man’s skull amidst a spray of brain matter that exploded from the force like pink confetti.
It reached out a long arm and grasped Eleanor before she had time to react. Holding her with one hand it walked on its remaining three limbs, rearing to slash its free claw at the others.
She struggled in its grip, but Eleanor was unable to prise herself free from the vice-like hold of its sinewy, sweat drenched digits.
‘What the fuck is that?’ Jonathan cried as he staggered back in disbelief, aiming his gun toward the demonic shape that gnashed its teeth towards him.
Sam raced towards Cross’s discarded gun and picked it up. Lining the sight he fired it towards the monster.
‘Take that you bastard!’ he shouted at the nightmare made real.
But with his dominant hand crushed beyond use, his shot fired off target. King gripped him by the neck and held him prone, allowing the dark puppet to do as its master commanded and slice through Sam’s torso. It wasn’t a clean cut, and as Sam’s top half fell to the floor, the weight of his bulk snapped his spine with a splintering crack.
Opening her eyes for the briefest of moments, Kayleigh caught sight of PC Pritchard’s dark crimson blood. The car’s windows on the left hand side had been drenched with the scarlet liquid. Unidentifiable pieces of flesh and jagged rips of skin slowly ran along the glass, following the slow current of the viscous blood.
The terrified girl closed her eyes tightly again, wishing for it all to go away. She wished she was back in her bed. But last night even her sleep had provided little comfort.
Outside, the tearing, the screaming, the sickening sound of cracking had all been silenced with the crescendo of a hideous squeal. A barely describable noise, whose memory lingered in Kayleigh’s ears.
She gripped her pendant tightly in her fist and felt the raised spikes that dotted the surface dig into her hand. Continuing to squeeze, she dared the piece of jewellery to cut her, to tear at her flesh. Kayleigh savoured the pain that grew in her palm, forcing it to build until her hand turned wet from the cuts that bled; leaking through her fingers and offering a strange climax that left her momentarily breathless.
The pendant had not been hers for very long, only a matter of hours. She’d acquired it accidentally, but somehow it felt right that it was in her possession. As small as it was, the silver charm was the only ray of positivity that had come from today, and Kayleigh clung to it desperately.
Looking through the red tinged window she saw the glow of Paul’s cigarette still burning on the ground. Stupidly she felt herself yearn for its hit. Her eyes caught something moving in the dirt; long and dark, weaving across the sun-baked mud like a snake. It didn’t take her long to realise it wasn’t an animal at all, but a trail of liquid; petrol to be exact, leaking from the split tank of the patrol car. The smell confirmed her fears and as she noticed the puddle that surrounded her had reached out with many tendrils, one of those tentacles met with the burning cherry of the half smoked Marlboro.
Jake ran to Laura as she stared transfixed at the events in front of her.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ he said as he tried and failed to pull her to her feet.
Aimee dived for Barry’s fallen Uzi, but was intercepted by the thrashing limbs of the monster. Catching her leg, it threw her against the wall of a crumbling building. She stood up to catch her breath and saw the man named Grinch offload a number of rounds. They shot wildly into the air, but the spray managed to catch its bestial hide. It roared with pain but responded quickly, thrusting its claw through Grinch’s bloated stomach.
‘Cross, get the case,’ Scullin commanded his subordinate, unsure of the supernatural animal that reared before him.
‘I can’t,’ she replied with venom. ‘It’s under the hell spawn.’
‘King,’ Scullin snapped, ‘move your monster.’
‘It’s not that easy,’ sweat ran down his brow, as the physical attrition of his activities began to take their toll. ‘This one’s so wild I’m barely holding on.’
The monster turned its attention back to Eleanor and began to sink its demonic bite into the soft flesh of her side. Eleanor twisted in its grip, managing to pull herself away from the lethal radius of its over-sized jaws. Only succeeding in tearing an inch of meat from her torso, it dragged her towards its open mouth once more, determined to taste her death.
A burst of gunfire filled the air. The monster dropped the wounded girl and turned to its attacker, its limbs already unstable beneath it. Another burst of gunfire sounded out, this time hitting its mark more clearly. The monster’s front left gave way and it fell to the ground.
It lashed out with its right arm, catching its attacker and causing Bones to drop his Glock as it wrapped him in its limb. Unable to stand, the creature snapped its vicious mouth like a beached fish and pulled him across the dirt towards its jagged teeth. With his hand scrabbling for grip, Bones reached out and caught Grinch’s dropped Uzi. Aiming it at the flailing monster he waited until they could almost touch, until he could smell the rotting odour from the mucus on its skin before pulling the trigger.
‘Die you motherfucker!’ Jonathan screamed as he unleashed round after round from his deceased colleague’s submachine gun.
The artillery filled the creature’s head, ripping flesh and bone like it was nothing more substantial than tissue paper. Blood as black as ink sprayed from the thing as its grotesque features were destroyed by a torrent of bullets.
King cursed as the smoking barrel was turned and trained on him.
‘What the fuck was that?’ Jonathan Bones cried, climbing back to his feet. ‘In fact, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Damn it. I knew I’d get messed up in some weird shit if I pursued this.’ He stopped his monologue and turned his attention back to his captives, ‘All too busy trying to save each other that none of you made a run for it. You sure are dumb.’
Scullin had been edging closer to the neglected briefcase that lay near the creature’s corpse, but froze as Jonathan’s gun barrel aimed towards him.
‘Get away from that case, Mr Sunglasses,’ he threatened. ‘You’re just too slow aren’t you?’ He wiped sweat from his eyes as he took a moment to breathe; a futile attempt to calm himself. ‘Nobody move. Nobody move a fucking muscle. All… this,’ he waved his free hand in the direction of the fallen monster and his slain bodyguards, unable to fittingly describe the carnage surrounding him, ‘has made me a little twitchy right now and I swear I’ll fill you all full of holes if anybody even sneezes. That includes you, little Miss Police.’ He turned his gun on Aimee and motioned for her to kneel down.
He smiled as she complied.
‘That’s better,’ came a satisfied tone.
Eleanor’s side throbbed as it trickled blood, staining her summer dress that already stuck to her skin through a mixture of sweat and the watery slime the creature had been secreting. The discomfort of her injury was a minor irritation compared to the screaming fears that filled her head as she stared at the ravaged meat of Sam’s severed corpse.
Just beyond her reach lay Scullin’s Berretta. She felt vengeance fill her heart, not drowning out her anguish but complimenting it; sweetening it to a palatable taste. Although coolly composed on the outside, fires raged behind her serenity.
Jonathan’s eyes scanned from one person to the next, with his weapon following suit, as he carefully made his way t
o the discarded briefcase.
As the flames took hold and travelled down the liquid pathway, back to her prison, Kayleigh kicked at the doors and shouldered against the caged partition. All held resolutely against her attempts of escape.
The fiery line crackled as it burnt, a sound like far away hooves galloping ever closer. Hypnotised by the destructive beauty of the oncoming flames, Kayleigh gave up her futile escape and watched as they danced along the ground like sprites from old fashioned fairy tales. Faces flickered amongst the orange glow with wicked smiles and hellish red eyes that taunted and teased her with their lethal presence.
Noises pricked her ears. But these weren’t the strange animal-like sounds that came from PC Pritchard’s attacker, nor were they the low roar of an advancing fire. These had a human quality, their pitch rising and falling to the sound of human syllables. Kayleigh couldn’t decipher any words, but the sound was incessant and rhythmic, like the sound of chanting.
As the chorus grew louder, Kayleigh watched four figures slowly walk towards her. They were dressed in flowing robes; frayed and dirty; the garments had seen better days but the coloured patterns of yellow and blue on grey were striking in the threatening dark of the building storm.
The figures became clearer as they drew closer, and she was able to see that each one carried a staff the height of its owner, with fluid, beautiful markings carved into the wood. Their faces were painted with gold and blue patterns, matching the designs of their tattered robes. As intricate as the painted decoration was it did little to hide the horrific scarring that marked the face of one of their troupe.
Their chanting continued, as they surrounded the car; their drone growing louder and clearer through the glass. As the wind shook harder against the vehicle it carried their chorus on the breeze. The unknown words caressed Kayleigh’s ears, gently kissing her worried thoughts and momentarily easing her mind.
