Hall of Twelve

by Rebecca Besser

  “Hold on!” the man yelled, as he jerked the wheel and spun the truck around, slamming into drive.

  “Holy shit, man!” Jack exclaimed, gripping the seat and the door.

  “Better reload,” was all the man said in response to his passenger’s exclamation.

  Jack looked up to see the bull running after them at full speed, with some of the worm’s legs dangling from its gapping mouth. Slick orange goo dripped from the appendages onto the asphalt, causing the giant monster to slip; it slid sideways and went down on its stomach once, before getting back up and continuing its pursuit.

  He hurriedly reloaded the shotgun, and leaned out the window to take a shot. The recoil of the shotgun blast slammed into his shoulder, nearly throwing him out of the truck window and into the monster’s path. But just at the moment he was sure his life was at an end, the driver of the truck swerved and righted Jack before he fell.

  Once he had his equilibrium back, he saw that his shot had been a good one – he’d hit the beast in the eye.

  The bull-beast stumbled, growled deep in its throat, and fell to the ground, pawing at its eye. A watery green substance gushed from the wound, bathing the ground with slick monster blood.

  “Got it!” Jack yelled, climbing back into the cab of the truck.

  The other man grunted and kept his eyes on the road in front of them.

  What was left of the caravan drove with no real direction, following one road after another. The blackness of night gradually gave way to purple, and before they knew it, the sun was peeking over the horizon. Feeling safer in the light, they stopped to regroup and decide how to proceed.

  Hank – the one who seemed to know the most about the Beings – came up with a plan. They would now be going straight into the woods, and hiding off the main roads. He believed the Beings were watching the roads and waiting for what he called, “Meals On Wheels,” to come along so they could feed their pets.

  Starting out once again, they turned onto the first dirt road they passed, and it didn’t take long before they were deep in the woods. Everyone was tired and hungry when they finally stopped again around midday. Their lunch was almost like a picnic as they sat in the shade, under the bright green leaves of the trees as the sun shone above them in a bright blue sky. But the armed guards that kept watch and switched out to take their turn to eat dispelled whatever pleasant picnic atmosphere they could have mustered.

  ~

  For the next two days they traversed the country side looking for a safe place to inhabit, and only spied a small group of Beings in the distance once. They were now down to fifteen men and two women, after the attack on the road. Some wished they hadn’t decided on quad cab trucks, because then there wouldn’t have been so many lost at one time.

  Everyone was devastated over the loss of the only child traveling with them – Ben’s ten-year-old daughter – seeming to place the importance of their future on the youngest member of their group. After all, children were the future, and without children there was no chance of the human race surviving. She’d been traveling in the first truck with her dad, and since he’d also been lost, Hank was now in charge.

  It was by accident that they finally found a place to stay. Xavier had wandered a little ways off over a hill during a short break from the road to relieve himself and had stumbled upon an old farm. The house was in shambles, but he decided to take a closer look to see if there was anything they could salvage. Going around to the far sided of the house, to find a safe place to enter the abandoned dwelling, he spied a small wooden door set low in the side of the hill. Curious, he went over and opened it, and a musty smell emanated from the depths of a dark cave-like opening. The angle of the sun did little to dispel the gloom more than a foot or two inside, so he came back to the group and a couple of men went with him to explore it, while the rest stayed behind with the trucks.

  Moral was low and everyone was scared. They didn’t talk much about the creatures or the attack on the road. Not knowing what would happen from day to day, and not knowing if something was waiting around the next corner to devour them was taking its toll.

  Everyone was silent as they watched the hill and the sun that was setting behind it. Anxious glances were cast at the shadows of the forest surrounding them. Every sound, every breeze that rustled leaves, made them more nervous. When a shriek and angry, excited yelling broke through the quietness of dusk, hands flew to guns that were never far from reach. In absolute terror they all backed up against trucks or trees, or anything else solid they were close to.

  “No! Leave! Get away! They’ll find us! You’ll lead them to me again! I can’t go back there!”

  Two men hauled a half-naked, crazed old man over the hill. Xavier followed a couple of steps behind, rubbing his head and frowning.

  “Calm down, you old coot,” Mark, one of the haulers, snapped. “You’re gonna draw more attention with your mouth than we ever did with the trucks.”

  Will, the other hauler, huffed and tried to keep the man under control. “You’re damn lucky we didn’t shoot you. I’m still tempted, so don’t push me too far!”

  The old man went limp and had to be dragged along the ground as he whimpered and pleaded pathetically.

  Hank met them when they were halfway down the hill. He spoke to Mark and Will quietly, glancing down at the old man. Nodding and listening to what the men told him, he got excited.

  Grinning from ear to ear, Hank turned and announced that they’d found somewhere to stay. Apparently the cave Xavier found was a large fruit cellar with a tunnel that led all the way through the hill to come up in the hatch of a barn; it would be the perfect place for them. The cave and tunnel would hide them, and it had an alternate entrance in case they needed a way out.

  That was where they’d found the old man. He’d heard someone open the door and had scurried through the tunnel and out into the barn. When Xavier had stuck his head through to check the place out, the old man had slammed the heavy wooden door down on him and tried to run for it, thinking he was in danger from the Beings. Will and Mark had chased the old man down and tackled him, bringing him back to get some answers.

  Everyone was excited and grins spread across weary faces at the prospect of having a permanent, safe home; they felt exposed and vulnerable being out in the open all the time. Quickly they set up camp on the other side of the hill, using wood from the old farm house for firewood. Most everyone went to bed early, drained from the stress of their uneasy existence. But Hank, Jack, and a few others stayed up, wanting to find out more about the ranting of the crazy old man. They’d had to tie him up and gag him just to keep him still and quiet while they’d made camp, but now it was time to loose him and get some answers.

  Venturing deep into the tunnel with flashlights, Hank laid down the law to their prisoner.

  “Don’t try anything, you crazy bastard,” he said, pulling the gag from the man’s mouth. “We just want to talk. If you get squirrely, we’ll shoot you. We don’t want to be found by those creatures any more than you do. First off, what’s your name?”

  “Earl,” he said, swallowing and stretching his mouth. “My name is Earl James. You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”

  He looked up at the men surrounding him with a wild gleam in his eyes, fed off of fear and desperation.

  Hank squatted down in front of Earl, and said calmly, “That’s why we wanted to talk to you. Can you tell us more about the Beings? We want to understand what those things are, so we can figure out how to deal with them and stay alive.”

  Earl laughed; the sound was void of mirth and made the other men shift uncomfortably.

  “You can’t understand them,” he cackled. “No one can understand Hell incarnate.”

  Hank didn’t reply, he just watched Earl and waited.

  “We tried to run from them, but they were too fast,” Earl finally said with a sigh. “My family and I. Someone said something about an announcement on the news about some scientific experiment
gone wrong. They were trying to create a portal to an alternate universe or some shit. Who knows! Those scientific people are crazy!”

  Hank looked down at his hands and stood.

  “Yes, I saw that broadcast,” he said in an almost whisper, remembering the destruction, mayhem, and carnage that had flashed across the TV screen – the screams of pain had been the worst part.

  “Wait,” Jack said, stepping forward. “You mean these things are from an alternate dimension or universe? That’s just crazy! There’s no such thing!”

  “Jack,” Hank said, “calm down. The footage of what happened was all over the news. . .it’s legit, or at least it’s the closet explanation we have.” He paused, stepped toward the other man, and put his hands on Jack’s shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes. “You saw those monsters when we were attacked on the road. Where would you say they came from? Nowhere I know of, or have ever heard of, has creatures like that. Unless you want to take a trip to Hell, and I don’t think you need to, because it’s here on Earth with us now.”

  Jack clenched his jaw. “What does that mean for my wife? Where is she? Gone to another universe?”

  “The Hall of Twelve.”

  Both men turned back to look down at Earl.

  “Where?” they asked in unison, frowning.

  Earl leaned forward; spit was collecting in the corners of his mouth, making it appear as if he were rapid and mad.

  “The Hall of Twelve,” he whispered, and cackled dementedly. “That’s where they took us. Took us all . . . Roll the dice . . . See if you live . . .”

  Hank stepped back from Jack and glanced at each man in turn. They all shrugged.

  “What’s the Hall of Twelve? What are you talking about? Dice? Roll?”

  Earl started to shake and rock back and forth. “It’s a place of evil, of death. They take you there. They make you roll the dice. Only one number will set you free. The rest lead to your doom.” He cackled again and started mumbling to himself. “I rolled free . . . I rolled free . . . I rolled free . . .”

  A chill went down Jack’s spine, adding credence to what the old man said. He wanted to believe Earl was just insane and none of it was true. But something deep inside his soul said the place existed and it was where he would find his wife.

  Hank couldn’t get any more information out of Earl, and, in the end, they let him go. He ran out of the tunnel like Hounds of Hell were chasing him, and in his mind, they were.

  The men left the tunnel and joined the rest of the survivors in the camp. Hank and Jack decided to keep watch, since both of them had too much on their minds to sleep.

  Hours passed as the two men sat by the fire, staring into the flames, each lost in their own thoughts. Just before dawn they heard a distant howl. They jumped, ripped from their reverie. Looking at each other they picked up and readied their guns, standing.

  “Should we put out the fire?” Jack asked in an urgent whisper.

  Hank shook his head no.

  They waited.

  The howl sounded again, closer.

  “What should we do?” Jack asked again, panic edging into his voice.

  Hank didn’t answer right away, but seemed to think about his response. “Wake everyone. If they come here, everyone needs to be ready to move.”

  As quietly as possible they woke one person after another, who in turn, woke someone else, until they were all awake. By that time Hank had decided they should hide in the tunnel, so they did.

  Everyone funneled into the dark, damp space as the howling grew increasingly closer and louder, with shrieks joining in. Shaking with fear, everyone stood in the darkness waiting to see what was going to happen next.

  The howls suddenly ceased and everyone breathed a silent sigh of relief, only to scream when something large attacked the door to the cave. Giant claws splintered the rotting wood of the door and the beast roared menacingly as two noses on long appendages similar to large fingers, reached through the opening and caught their scent. The creature ripped the door off to get to them, and luckily for the people hiding inside, the beast was too large to fit through the opening.

  “Run!” Hank screamed, firing at the creature, blowing one of its noses off.

  The beast roared in pain and anger. Attacking again, it used its huge paws to dig out the opening, making it larger.

  Rushing through the tunnel in the darkness caused many of the people to fall, tripping others, causing injuries and drawing blood. The journey seemed like forever before they reached the barn, and they couldn’t get out fast enough; in their panic they hurt each other further.

  Behind them the beast had gotten into the tunnel – they could hear it thumping and growling as it followed. The group of people fought harder to get out and away from the stalking danger, and a woman tripped and knocked herself and another down the hole. Their screams of pain as they were eaten alive echoed out of the hatch and made the others tremble with fear. As the last of them made it out, Hank and Will slammed the wooden lid shut over the tunnel exit and rolled a heavy, metal fifty-five gallon drum – that had been sitting abandoned in a corner – over it and sat it up, hoping against all odds that it would slow the creature down.

  No one stayed together; they scattered across the countryside.

  Jack headed west, away from the full moon, seeking the deeper shadows of darkness to hide him. Not knowing the region hurt him badly as he searched for a place to conceal himself. He found himself in a swamp, and falling forward in the deep, silty mud as he tried to look around, he lost his gun, leaving him defenseless.

  He could hear someone coming behind him and hurriedly crawled over to a small pond. He broke off a reed, stuck it in his mouth, and laid face down in the water behind a fallen log, hoping the Beings would pass him by.

  The roar of the giant, digging monster became suddenly loud as it burst from the ground – Jack was still close enough to the building that splinters rained down on him as it destroyed the barn. The beast roared and the sound was deafening until the creature moved further away; he figured it was going after the smell of blood from one of the injured people. He didn’t know if there were Beings with the creature, but he assumed there were, and thought it was better to err on the side of caution.

  Lying completely still, he focused on slowing his breathing to become as invisible as possible, and that’s when he heard someone or something coming. Silently, he prayed they wouldn’t be able to find him and would pass by.

  Branches snapped and he heard hissing as whatever was out in the woods advanced closer and closer to his hiding place; he held himself immobile. Chirping and buzzing followed the hissing and it sounded like there was more than one of them.

  Jack thought about lifting his head and peeking over the log, but he was too scared to risk it. Time passed slowly as he waited. Finally he heard noises that told him the Beings – since there was no way whoever was out there was human, considering the sounds they made – were moving away. With a sigh of relief when he could no longer hear anything and thought he was alone, he lifted his face from the water and took the reed out of his mouth.

  Suddenly he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and felt intense pain in his back and shoulder when a dark, cloaked figure landed on his back with a threatening hiss. The six inch claws that adorned its huge foot dug into his flesh – one curled around his shoulder and stabbed into his chest, while the rest sank deep into his spine.

  Jack screamed, his body jerking in utter agony. He tried to turn and fight the Being off, but he realized it had severed his spine, leaving his body useless. As he fought and cried out, he was forced to swallow mouthful after mouthful of the water he was pinned down in, choking him and almost drowning him. But, just before the mercy of death took him from the horror that had attacked him, the Being removed its claws, gripped his neck, and lifted him from the quagmire. He was held, dangling over the ground, blood and water dripping from him, while the Being inspected him.

  Looking down at the Bein
g, he wished it had killed him and gotten it over with. The creature scared him. Deep violet eyes stared back at him; they glowed with hate and malice, and he could feel the Beings consciousness violating his whenever he looked directly into them. The violation of his personal thoughts made him feel dirty as it slithered through his mind with the sneakiness of a snake. Closing his eyes, he denied the Being access; it shrieked and shook him, trying to make him open his eyes again, but Jack refused. The three fingered, smooth hand that gripped his throat tightened, but still he didn’t comply.

  With a hiss of anger, the Being slammed him down on the ground violently.

  The last thing Jack saw before he lost consciousness was other survivors who’d been captured, being chained together by more of the Beings.

  The old man’s words, “Hall of Twelve . . .” echoed through his head as the blessed blackness of oblivion overtook him.

  ~

  When Jack awoke, he was lying on a filthy cement floor; feces and urine were intermixed with decaying straw and mud, supplying him with a disgusting pillow. Spitting he tried to sit up, only to wince and cry out in pain. Everything that had happened came back in a flash, and he knew his body no longer worked. He was doomed. Slowly, he looked around, noticing for the first time that he wasn’t alone.

  There were ten other people crammed into the barn stall with him. The stall – their prison – was made up of bars running vertically up the top half and the bottom consisted of rough, thick wooden boards. Everyone was quiet and watching the door, dreading that it would be opened at any moment and something horrible would be standing there, ready to tear them apart. They all knew it would happen eventually, it was just a matter of when. The waiting caused the fear to grow and build inside the minds of the humans awaiting their fate, and that was just the beginning of their torture.

  Distantly, Jack could hear the opening and closing of a heavy door, followed by screaming. All around them, close-by, were the sounds of people: weeping, mumbling, and the rustling of bodies packed too close together.