by Park, J. R.
The sunlight faded as night time took its place.
Red eyes flashed in the darkness.
Kayleigh ran.
Aimee groped her way through the darkness, unnerved at not finding the edge of the room, despite the distance she’d walked.
Surely she must have reached the end of the depot by now?
The Special Constable had chased Cross, but lost her the moment she walked into the dark shadows that clung to the room’s edge. Silently she walked on, listening out for both Cross and Kayleigh. The poor girl had looked terrified, but all around was now deathly quiet.
Far away she saw a figure, silhouetted against a far off brightness. Its shoulders shook as it leaned over another figure, sprawled out on the ground.
As her vision struggled to focus Aimee made out the face of a person crying, their tears collecting beneath their eyes.
‘Laura,’ Aimee called out, but received no response. Greif-stricken, Laura’s focus remained intently on the person lying at her feet.
The illumination began to fade, and just before the darkness took them from view, Aimee caught the still face of the motionless body that lay underneath the girl. It was Jake. A trickle of blood dripped down his cheek like a blood-filled tear.
As the corpse and his mourning lover faded into the black, the world around her disappeared once more. All that remained was a faint silver glow, and within this ethereal radiance, shadows of tall trees grew.
Pushing back branches, Kayleigh forced her way through the undergrowth as hooves stamped on the ground from the chasing beast behind her. The unicorn snorted and snarled as it hunted down its prey with a relentless ferocity.
The trees around her seemed to move, clustering together, to prevent her escape. Appearing from the darkness, they closed in and blocked her path, revealing themselves to be vast, writhing tentacles.
Realising she was trapped, Kayleigh turned around to see the demonic eyes of the mythical animal ablaze in the darkness. Like her dream the night before, she had nowhere left to run, nowhere left to hide.
Kayleigh closed her eyes and clasped her pendant as the unicorn lowered its head, its horn now a twisted spike of bone, and galloped forward with a charge.
A thud cracked in her ears, but she felt no pain. Opening her eyes, Kayleigh saw the unicorn knocked on its side, trying to clamber to its feet.
Special Constable Forrest stood in front of her, rubbing her bruised shoulder, and offered a friendly hand.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ the police officer said, locking fingers with the frightened girl and forcing her way past the tree-like tentacles.
The unicorn rose to its feet as, sprinting through the bushes and brambles, the two ran through the darkening wood, searching for an escape.
The beast bellowed an ungodly noise as it trampled through the undergrowth, making short work of the distance between them.
Aimee pushed Kayleigh to the ground, as the horn of the unicorn sliced through the air, grazing Aimee’s shoulder. The Special Constable rolled onto her back, but the beast was on top of her, rearing its front hooves and striking her leg.
Aimee screamed in pain as the beast’s eyes faded from fiery red to the darkest black.
The animal studied the wounded officer, sniffing her with its blood-soaked nose and relishing the time it took to choose the final deathblow.
Getting to her feet Kayleigh watched in horror as the unicorn toyed with Aimee, slowly goring her side with its gnarled horn.
Kayleigh knew what she had to do. Throughout her life the unicorn had been a symbol of strength to her, a creature who found her in her dreams and gave her the daily courage to carry on. Since her last dream she’d been terrified the symbol had betrayed her, but it had done no such thing. All the dream had done was to prepare her; to show her at her strongest, her most brave. For the strength didn’t come from any symbol, it come from her own core; her own soul.
This was her world. Her nightmare. The key was feeding from her fear. It was time to stop running. To stop giving the key what it wanted and to stop feeling afraid.
She had to give in.
She had to let go.
‘You want this?’ Kayleigh held up the pendant, the key, Cross desired so badly. ‘You want this, you’d better come get it.’
The creature turned to face her, leaving the wounded Special Constable to bleed in the silvery darkness. It snorted with aggression and bared its teeth before stamping its feet and charging toward the seventeen year old.
Kayleigh knew what was coming, and in this dream-fuelled state of déjà vu a calmness took hold. Time seemed to slow as the thud of the animals hooves fell in sync with the booming of her heart. She opened her arms and welcomed the charge towards her. Lowering its head, the unicorn thrust its horn deep into Kayleigh’s stomach. A fountain of scarlet liquid gushed from the hole as the beast jerked its head upwards, ripping through her skin and tearing into her left-hand lung. Immediately her breathing shallowed as her lung collapsed, but it only resulted in a gasp of pleasure and a widening of her smile.
Time slowed even further as seconds crawled to minutes. Kayleigh grasped both sides of the steed’s vast head and helped guide it up through her body, sinking onto its solid horn. She bit her lip in anticipation, awaiting the final moment and savouring every part of its build-up.
As the horn headed towards her heart she held her breath, and as it sunk deep into her soft, wet insides she let go, both physically and spiritually, screaming with ecstasy.
Another scream echoed through the midnight wood.
But it did not belong to Kayleigh.
As Aimee clambered, unsteadily to her feet she saw Cross, her image shimmering in the silver light like a flickering flame caught in the wind. Her arm dripped with a dark, red liquid than ran from her fingertips and onto the teenager’s dead body below.
Cross turned on faltering legs to face the Special Constable and revealed a wound that gushed blood from her face. The key had been thrust into one of her eyes; the decorative spikes sinking into the soft tissue and flesh of the crazed sadist. Kayleigh had planned the attack all along.
The world around them dissolved as the depot began to fade back into view. Cross fell backwards in her disoriented state. Crashing against an appearing window, she fell through the glass, flooding the room with light. The trees faded as strangely as they came and the musty smell of the disused bus depot returned to Aimee’s nostrils.
She looked towards Kayleigh who lay at her feet. Blood spilled from a wound and across the young woman’s thighs. The end of the unicorn’s horn had snapped off her attacker and was still embedded, protruding from her motionless belly.
As the corpse of the spirited teenager stared lifelessly back at her, Aimee noticed a smile on her face, a look of contentment and peace that she had never witnessed all the while she’d known the girl, growing up as her brother’s friend.
Thank you, Kayleigh, she thought. You were very brave.
Special Constable Forrest walked over to the dying murderer and took Cross by the lapels of her bloodied suit jacket, as she sprawled out, limply over the window frame.
She wrenched the key from her face, revealing the wounded woman’s eyes to look like dark craters. So inescapable was the light that fell into them that Aimee couldn’t make out exactly what was in their centre. The edges of the two holes appeared to creep from the eye sockets in which they were contained, tainting her face with wisps of darkness that ended in tiny curled tendrils.
Blood bubbled from a deep gash that cut through Cross’s neck, a wound inflicted from the fall, when a piece of broken glass had sliced across her throat.
‘You fucking bitch,’ Aimee cursed, as she watched the bubbling fade.
Letting go of her suit, Aimee let Cross’s head fall backwards, slumping over the window frame and opening the gory wound further with a spray of arterial blood.
The crimson spray soaked the volunteer officer and startled her. Awaking Cross, her vice-like grip took h
old of Aimee’s wrist and shocked the Special Constable into opening her hand. The key fell from her fingers and was snatched away.
Weakened as she was, but with jittery movements, Cross crawled out the window.
Making her escape, she didn’t rise to her feet but crawled on the floor. Her body bent backwards whilst her hands and feet scuttled over the ground in a crab-like manner, but with the grace and elegance of a slithering snake. Her tongue took on a new shape as it lashed the air.
Aimee tried to grab the unnatural abomination, but she moved too quickly and scampered away. Climbing through the window herself and back outside, Forrest watched as Cross scaled a building, clambering up an exterior wall with the ease of a galloping spider. She gave chase on the ground, but by the time she’d got to the other side of the dilapidated construction the freakish female had made her descent, down the far wall and, with the key in her hand, was almost at her destination.
That destination was Scullin.
Outnumbered, but still in control, the hulkish leader stood at the edge of a man-made chasm. The deep hole was dug a few years ago, at the beginning of a construction contract that crumbled in the height of the recession. It was to be the foundation of a great, high-rise office block, and a chance to revitalise the area. But as the financial backing fell through, the construction team had moved out, leaving behind a huge crater. Over time its bottom had been filled with rubble, rubbish and materials that were left around the site; thrown into it by bored kids looking for something to do.
The broken glass, jagged brickwork and twisted iron stuck up like spikes from a jungle trap, making the pit a deadly drop.
Laura’s feet dangled over the edge, held in this precarious position by Scullin. One of his large hands gripped both her wrists as she froze within his clutches.
At his feet lay Jake’s body, collapsed face first into the dirt. The ground surrounding his head had stained a brownish red from the blood that escaped an unseen wound.
The crawling Cross reached her leader and passed him the key. A smile faintly appeared on his face as he took the silver object with his free remaining hand.
‘You have done well,’ he thanked the twisted form that presented him his prize.
Cross replied by flicking her sharp, arrow-like tongue in the air.
Scullin turned his attention back to the girl at his mercy, and as he did so a wooden pole was driven through the black pit of one of Cross’s eyes; her deathblow delivered behind his back. Her body began to constrict as an ear shredding howl escaped from her gaping mouth. Her one remaining eye looked up to see Taal, holding his staff and twisting it further into her brain. His face was cut and bloodied, his lip swollen and his left eye half closed, but with a determined look he continued to force his staff into the creature before him.
Cross’s back arched to the point of breaking as her arms and legs buckled under her own weight. As her screams faded her body cracked and snapped, rolling in on itself and leaving a collection of distorted limbs protruding at vomit inducing angles.
Scullin turned to face Taal.
‘Coming back for more, little man?’ he taunted. ‘It’s over. I have both keys.’
‘This fight’s far from done. The keys are useless without the case,’ Taal raised his staff, ready to attack. ‘Put the girl down.’
‘Gladly,’ came Scullin’s swift reply as he dropped her to the ground.
Laura tried to right herself as her feet touched down but she stumbled, falling backwards into the pit. Scullin didn’t even wait for her screams to end before he swung his first punch. Taal nimbly dodged the careering fist. He was unlucky to have been caught by Scullin’s blows before, allowing the boy and girl to distract him; his thoughts concerned with their safety. This was a mistake. There were greater things at stake than the lives of two budding adults.
He dodged another fist and jabbed his staff, the end striking Scullin in the neck, making his adversary stumble with pain.
Now there were no distractions, Taal was focused. The contents of that case had to be held by the Servitude, the Calling had to be prevented.
Aimee watched the duelling pair as she ran to the aid of her unconscious brother. Kneeling beside him, she lifted his head and smiled as his eyelids began to open. She picked up his glasses that lay beside him and placed them on his nose. One lens was shattered and the other filthy with dirt, but he looked at her through them and returned her smile.
‘I thought you were dead!’ Her face softened as she stroked his hair.
‘Where’s Laura?’ Jake asked, concerned as his memories returned.
Aimee answered her brother with a sorrowful expression. ‘I’m sorry, Jake,’ his sister replied, ‘Laur-’
Her sentence was cut short by a shrill cry for help. The pair scrambled to the edge of the deep hole and looked over the side. Their hearts jumped, a mixture of relief and alarm as quarter of the way down they saw his girlfriend. Her dress had caught on an iron rod that stuck out from the side of the pit, and against all odds the fabric was supporting her, leaving her dangling over the broken glass and jagged bricks that lay at the bottom.
‘Help me!’ She looked towards Jake and Aimee, pleading for rescue.
Scullin dropped to his knees, hobbled by the carefully placed strike into his heel. Even knelt down he was taller than his opponent. He held his tongue, stifling an expression of pain.
‘Give in or face your death,’ Taal threatened.
‘One of us has to die today,’ Scullin replied, getting back to his feet. ‘You know that as much as I.’
‘So be it,’ Taal answered, spinning with balletic poise and swinging his staff towards the large man’s head.
Holding his arm up to protect himself, Scullin’s powerful forearm took the impact. It knocked him sideways, lifting him from the ground and sending him crashing into the wall of one of the buildings. His large bulk smashed a hole through the crumbling brickwork.
Taal observed as the fallen man dusted himself off and slowly tried to get to his feet. Holding his arms out and constructing a premeditated shape with his fingers, the Servant of the Sacred Whisper began to quietly chant a sentence of secret words, long protected by the practitioners of the Servitude.
Sweat drenched his skin and his muscles shook with an unknown exertion, but as he continued to chant, cracks grew in the walls and snaked up the masonry, spreading their destructive lines until, with a mighty crash, the building caved in, burying Scullin in an avalanche of bricks and mortar.
A thick black liquid seeped out from the fallen debris, and after watching it for a moment, Taal turned his back on the pile of rubble and made his way to the briefcase. With his enemy vanquished he did not care for keys. The Calling would be prevented and the Servitude had all the time in the world to work out how to open the case and retrieve its revered contents. Patience was a valuable power.
He’d only taken a few steps when he heard the sound of falling stone. By the time he’d turned round Scullin had clawed his way free from his temporary tomb.
Deep, black cavities looked out from Scullin’s face, exposed now his sunglasses had been crushed, and buried their vacant, horrific gaze into the lone survivor of the travelling cult members.
Reasoning with him was an impossible task, and before Aimee could suggest the best plan to help, Jake was already on his way, climbing down the deep hole that his girlfriend was hanging over; only held from falling by the strength of her denim dress.
‘I’m coming, baby,’ he called out, reassuring her as he picked out his pathway on the tricky descent.
Scullin charged at Taal. A sidestep saw the robed figure avoid the attack, but the assault was not over. Fists rained down in anger on the man from India, and with all the skill his training had developed over the years he dodged, weaved, blocked and countered to protect himself from the onslaught.
Jake gripped onto the rock as he leant closer, his fingertips just out of reach of the blue material that was hooked onto the end of a snappe
d support rod.
‘Please Jake,’ Laura looked into the eyes of her boyfriend and cried. ‘I don’t want to die.’
Straining to extend his reach he tried to ignore the sound of fabric slowly tearing.
The faintest of glimpse in Scullin’s cavernous eyes was all it took for Taal to give his adversary the edge in battle. Momentarily breaking his concentration, he found his staff wrenched from his hands as he mistimed his next attack. Pushed to the ground with a swift kick, the Servant of the Sacred Whisper could only watch as Scullin snapped his staff in two and tossed it aside.
Defenceless, he held his hands above him, trying to recount the call that would aid him now. The sight of those eyes had thrown him, planting a seed of fear into his mind. As he wrestled the growing weed from his thoughts, his much needed incantations eluded his consciousness.
The rock in Jake’s hand gave way, crumbling under the strain. He fell forward and dug his fingers into the side wall. Finding a secure handle, he stopped his fall and reached out, grasping hold of Laura’s dress. Carefully he unhooked it from the metal rod and pulled it towards him, the sound of denim ripping, growing louder.
Aimee watched as Scullin towered over Taal and picked him up, clean off the ground, holding him at eye level. Below, her brother was clinging to the rock face with his fingertips in an attempt to save his girlfriend.
They both needed her help.
‘Not so formidable without your weapon,’ Scullin mocked in the face of his beaten opponent.
‘You underestimate our resourcefulness,’ Taal spoke with his usual calm, the fear in his face had faded. ‘And our ability to play dirty.’
With the speed of a striking praying mantis, Taal jabbed at one of Scullin’s eyes, burying his fingers knuckle deep into the hole.
The monk-like man was thrown to the ground as Scullin collapsed with agony, holding his face.
