The Smiling Man Conspiracy (Evils of this World Book 2)

by C. J. Sears

  The tunnel ran from the elevator to a pressurized door at the end. Ortiz took the lead. Mike followed, his eyes darting from glass ceiling to glass wall. This long stretch of corridor made him uneasy. He felt like he was being funneled to certain death.

  What did the Overlord want from them? How many times had people suffered and died going through this man’s gauntlet? What was the gain?

  Maybe there was no point. The Overlord exemplified concentrated, unadulterated evil. Maybe it was his idea of entertainment, a way to vicariously get his rocks off without getting his hands dirty.

  An oversized valve handle operated the door. Ortiz gripped it with both hands and turned. It groaned but didn’t budge. Michael stepped in. Together they rotated the handle until the door hissed and unlocked.

  This new area was unlike what he had expected. He thought they’d be heading into a hyperbaric chamber; someone needed to have access to an emergency breathing gas supply in case of leakage. The architect of the Overlord’s playground disagreed.

  Instead, Michael and Ortiz had entered a weeping cavern. Water dripped from limestone stalactites, creating tiny pools on the ground. Soda straw-styled formations were uncommon in the passage, giving way to a prevalence of cone-shaped rocks and columns. The cave wasn’t newly formed by any stretch.

  Suspended on brass sticks embedded in the wall, wax candles lit the trail in front of them. The flames were dim, flickering in the cool air and infringing water. In seconds, they would waver and die, submerging the duo of Michael and Ortiz in absolute darkness.

  The cavern confirmed they were underground, but as much as Michael appreciated knowing that, it didn’t get them any closer to escape. The wet and calcified path extended into a circular, almost dome-shaped room. A natural staircase spiraled downward, leading further into the blackest depths of the cave.

  “What is this place? La casa del Diablo?”

  “I don’t think so, but I bet he’s not far off,” said Michael, peering over the edge of the cliff at the abyss that awaited them. It was a long way to go. The room might be an echo chamber, but he doubted he could hear a pin drop.

  Ortiz shook his head. “Dios mío, I should have never taken the job.”

  Did he know something? “What job?”

  “I was a ladrón, my friend. A thief.”

  Michael frowned. “What were you trying to steal? And why?”

  “Some information on a data chip. Supposed to have all kinds of government secrets on it. We’d sell it to the highest bidder. I think it was a lie. A trap.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because there wasn’t anything there. We went into that mansion and got attacked by el monstruo. The man in charge died. Supes and I almost escaped, but these masked men injected us with something and knocked us out.”

  “What did you mean by monster?” asked Michael, thinking of the beast in the water.

  “I don’t know how to describe it. It was a freak, man. It had these gangly string arms and bulbous mouth. That horrible squelching noise and the way it walked…I’m not even sure if I really saw what I think I did.”

  Michael had seen too much to believe otherwise. Ortiz’s monster was as real as the parasite men in Lone Oak, the waking nightmares that had masqueraded as humanity. He’d never forget what happened to the people in his hometown.

  They didn’t find Evelyn as they descended the uneven stone steps, pressing their hands against the wall to keep from falling in the pitch dark. When the Overlord split them up, Michael was angry, but he’d also thought they’d meet back up in the first test, whatever that was. He didn’t think the separation would be so permanent.

  An abrupt drop bisected the path. Michael almost stepped out into the endless chasm when Ortiz seized him by the scruff of his shirt.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “No problem. That’s a bad way to go. I lost a buddy that way during a training exercise.”

  His words surprised Michael. “Training exercise? You were in the military?”

  “Not for long. I did basic, signed all the papers, but when we were preparing for our first mission, the accident happened. His body was mutilado: a bloody mess. I couldn’t do it anymore after I saw that.”

  An outcropping jutted from the rocky stairs, forming a long, narrow bridge to a door on the other side. Unless they wanted to chance jumping across the gap, this was their only option.

  The ledge seemed sturdy, but it would crumble under enough weight. Ortiz went first. He kept his chin up and his eyes forward. He didn’t dare look at the pit below.

  When his companion had crossed, Michael toed the platform. He wasn’t afraid of heights, but that didn’t mean he was stupid enough to run when it’d be safer to walk.

  He inched along the bridge. It would be so much easier if it wasn’t so dark. The door at the end was well-lit, but shadow shrouded the path. He knew he had a solid thirty feet to pass, but the distance from his shoes to the outer edges of the walkway was imperceptible.

  A rumbling overhead made him apprehensive. The last thing Michael needed was for a stalactite to come loose and smash into him. And if it broke the flimsy bridge and sent him plummeting into the bottomless gulf, mutilado wouldn’t begin to describe the condition of his corpse.

  Once the void was no longer beneath his feet, Michael exhaled. With that danger behind him, he cleared his mind of distractions—other than Evelyn. If the best the Overlord had planned for them was a test of courage, maybe they could all get out in one piece.

  Determined to regroup, he and Ortiz located the switch and used it to open the sliding steel door. Another elevator, but this one didn’t make him leery. It was contemporary and clean, unlike the first lift that had brought them here.

  Based on the number of labeled buttons, the testing facility was composed of six floors. There was an even number of basement and upper levels. The digital indicator said they were on the second basement floor.

  “What do you think? Up or down?”

  “Up sounds good, but I know you want to find your lady friend first.”

  “B3 it is,” said Michael, pushing the button and praying he hadn’t made a tremendous mistake.

  *

  The elevator wasn’t supposed to deliver test subjects to the workers’ entrance. The Overlord had told the engineers time and again to fix the mechanism so that it brought participants to Test Chamber 1B. Blue collar idiots. What was he paying them for?

  Snarling, he pressed the override key on the switchboard, locking down all options except the bottom floor. It was lucky that Subjects MK and JO had wandered into the staff elevator and not chosen to go above ground. The Overlord reserved the automated turret systems for emergencies. He damn sure didn’t want to cut the experiment short.

  Now they were going down to the third basement level, and he was in control. They were still off of the progression path, but he had ways to corral them back to the tests. He hated to divert one of his creatures from their assigned task, but desperate times called for drastic measures.

  The Overlord glanced at the monitor showing Test Chamber 1A. Subjects WZ, ER, and KC had used their key and entered the altar—his tribute to grandfather’s forgotten past.

  Part of him wanted to rush both groups into Test Chamber 2, but the company was adamant that a baseline needed to be established before serious testing could occur.

  Unfortunately, that meant many trials were fruitless. In the two years of running these tests, less than half of those captured progressed past Test Chamber 2. Most died. Some didn’t make it through the first set of objectives. The archives were replete with a catalogue of poor performances.

  The matter of the lost duo begged his attention. He left the main terminal and walked to the row of blinking lights that told him which of the freaks were presently in their respective kennels. OCT-03 was enjoying a swim; the Overlord saw no reason to disturb him.

  Technically, the creatures were sexless. Chemical treatments and injections erased no
ticeable genitalia. But the Overlord preferred to think of them as his sons and daughters, granting them the honor of their biological genders.

  FEL-01 had woken from her nap. That one was a nasty piece of work. And hungry. Her nose could sniff out any vermin. She was the perfect bull to release in the proverbial china shop.

  Teetering on the line between glee and frustration, the Overlord flipped a lever—one of five—and smiled as a grated vent on the third basement level screeched open and unleashed the monster inside.

  A DOG NEEDS A LEASH

  Donahue wasn’t surprised by the outer extravagance of the mansion. Anyone in a position of power such as the Smiling Man liked to flash his goods. From the high buttressed walls to the wrought iron gate, it could’ve passed for a modernized castle. No moat, but if the rain kept dowsing the earth that might change.

  They parked across from the house at a defunct security booth. At one time, the manor had entertained a who’s who of celebrity guests. Now it was nothing but an elaborate disguise for mad science, crooked men, and, according to Kasey, freakish human hybrids.

  “Are we going over the gate or circling around the back?” she asked, tucking the Browning in her harness.

  Kasey holstered her Glock and lugged Donahue’s revolver in her hands.

  “Whoever’s running the test will know we’re here regardless of how sneaky we are,” she said, “so I say we go in through the front and kick down his stupid door.”

  “Here I was thinking you were the subtle type.”

  “I’m not in the mood for subtle,” she said, marching toward the gate.

  Donahue raced to catch up. “Won’t there be deterrence of some sort? Something to keep intruders out?”

  “I’m sure there is,” Kasey said, jiggling the wet and rusted circular handle.

  “So we’re volunteering to be cut to bits by whatever he’s got?”

  The blonde took two steps back and aimed a kick at the aging steel bars. They buckled under the pressure, crashing inward. The winding path to the front porch welcomed them.

  “Not exactly,” she said, leading Donahue around the building.

  “What’s the plan?”

  She pointed to a gray metal box bolted to the wall on the eastern side. “We kill the power. He’ll have auxiliary and other redundant systems, but it should buy us enough time to get inside.”

  Donahue wasn’t convinced. “Okay, say we do that. What’s stopping the security systems from shooting us in the back?”

  “Nothing,” said Kasey, “so we’ll be quick and alert. Best case is that he has to wait on the backup generators, giving us about ten minutes of free exploration to locate the testing site.”

  How did she know that? “What’s the worst case?”

  She inspected the tumbler lock on the circuit breaker. “Worst case is that electronics aren’t his only form of protection.”

  “You mean the creatures?”

  “Exactly,” said Kasey, bashing the lock loose with the butt of the revolver.

  The dial clinked on the ground, defeated. She flipped every switch on the breaker panel.

  “Did that do anything?” asked Donahue.

  None of the exterior or interior lights had been shining. It was impossible to tell what difference cutting the power had made.

  “Only one way to find out,” said Kasey, returning to the veranda.

  *

  Zachary knew they’d made the right decision when the first thing he saw was candlelight and a stone tablet. Below it was an indentation where a wooden square might fit. This had to be the sacred vigil mentioned in the letter. Now he had to figure out which sigil was correct. If he tried the wrong one…

  No divine directives were engraved on the tablet. The language may as well have been gibberish. But he recognized the symbol; it was the same nine-pointed star he’d seen in Lone Oak’s forest. What did it mean?

  Recalling what Evelyn had told him, the dots connected. As preposterous as it sounded, he had every reason to believe she hadn’t lied to him. Supposing that a cult were involved, the image made sense. In fact, eight of the nine points looked like legs. The ninth was strangely shaped, but it could have been a mouth.

  Okay, so it was in the vague shape of a parasite that resembled a mammoth mite. And? It didn’t solve the puzzle as much as elucidate the theory behind it. He was no closer to passing the test even if his suppositions were true.

  “Take a look at this,” said Evelyn, pointing to another message on the wall written in black paint: A DOG NEEDS A LEASH.

  Just like the words in his room, it didn’t synchronize with the reality they were facing. And he’d seen them before, somewhere…

  “What’s that got to do with this altar?” asked Cranston.

  “There’s the plank with the staff image in the other room,” said Zachary, “but I don’t see how that’s a leash for a dog or what it has to do with the altar.”

  “Does it matter? It’s the best we’ve got. Let’s put it in the slot.”

  Cranston had cast his vote. Between the letter, the wall message, the tablet, and the planks, they should’ve had a hunch on how to proceed. Zachary turned to Evelyn, knowing their time was elapsing faster than he could think.

  “We don’t know what will happen if we choose the wrong one,” he said, hoping that she might have a better prognosis.

  She furrowed her eyebrows, concentrating on each available clue.

  “It’s not the staff. It’s the flute,” she said, snapping her fingers.

  “How do you know?” asked Zachary.

  “Because I’ve seen that thing in the flesh,” she said, gesturing at the symbol on the tablet. “Remember what I told you? Rhinehold controlled the parasites, gave them orders or something. I didn’t understand how, but now I think I do. He sang to them.”

  “How sure are you about this?”

  Evelyn shrugged. “About seventy percent. It’s the best guess we’ve got.”

  “Works for me.”

  Zachary retrieved the wooden square bearing the image of a pan flute from the cabin room. He inserted it into the space beneath the tablet. Nothing happened.

  He cursed. Evelyn’s shocked eyes and slack-jawed expression spoke volumes. Were they too late? How much time had passed since the Overlord gave them their instructions?

  Why had the growling stopped?

  A lengthy sequence of clicks and the working of machinery set their minds at ease. In the main room, the southwest door unlocked.

  “Congratulations on completing your first task. Please continue to your next objective.”

  The Overlord’s voice didn’t sound emotional. He was neither amused nor upset. Perhaps it was a recording. Regardless, they happily moved on and away from the abominable dead deer smell.

  A bloodcurdling scream interrupted their jubilation. Somewhere else in the facility, it sounded like a man was being ripped asunder.

  His horrific howling followed them into the second test chamber.

  *

  Michael couldn’t put together how it happened. One second, he exited the elevator ready to grab Evelyn and the others and get out. The next he was on the ground and Ortiz was wailing, some infernal and grisly creature tearing at the flesh of his leg.

  It walked on its toes but resembled no animal he’d ever seen. Bizarre, veiny musculature bulged from its shoulders and hindquarters. The smell of carrion wafted from its oily, hairless body. Its flesh looked pink and tender like a newborn babe. It was like the mutant offspring of a human and a tiger.

  He got to his feet. He had to stop the creature, had to set Ortiz free. Michael wouldn’t let himself be a captive audience. He couldn’t let this man become a meal for some sideshow monstrosity.

  He punched the hideous beast right in its snout. It recoiled and jumped back, alighting on its lithe limbs, dropping Ortiz’s gory thigh.

  The shrill cry of the monster was unlike anything he expected. Both high-pitched and fierce, the wild roar deadened his courage a
nd turned his legs to jelly.

  Feeling like he would stumble, he steadied his hand against the wall and stooped to drag Ortiz away from his attacker.

  The tapping of the creature’s feet against the cement floor was faint, almost inaudible. No wonder he hadn’t heard it coming.

  It glided toward him, its legs carrying it with all the poise of a domestic feline.

  His instincts kicked into overdrive. Ducking, he let the monster leap over him, its claws missing his neck by a whisker’s width.

  With a soft, undetectable thud, the creature landed behind him. It bounded along the gray corridor until it reached the door. The monster craned its head to behold its crafty prey.

  Goosebumps prickled along his spine. He looked at Ortiz, bleeding to death, knowing there was nothing he could do to dull the pain. Now the creature blocked his escape.

  The strange, impossible beast licked its lips. Between its teeth, scraps of muscle and tissue torn from Ortiz’s leg dangled like bacon strips.

  Red but distinctly mammalian eyes fluttered under the fluorescent light. Michael tensed up, frozen, accepting that his fate would be the same as Ortiz.

  The lights went out, and stranded him with a ravenous predator he couldn’t see or hear.

  *

  Was the entrance built for giants? The immense stone door was twice the height of the tallest man she’d ever seen. The motif of a Greek colossus only exacerbated her belief that this was too much, too showy.

  “This guy’s not compensating for anything,” Donahue joked, helping Kasey shove the door open.

  “Tell me about it,” said the blonde, feeling the burn in her calves.

  Their combined effort was enough. The door growled as it scraped marble floor. The two women tread cautiously into the dark and lifeless grand foyer, weapons drawn.

  She and Kasey turned on their flashlights. The Renaissance mosaic that encircled the domed ceiling was striking, but Donahue couldn’t identify the original artist. Lightning flashed in the clerestory windows. Thunder bellowed as rain sprayed their backs through the open front door.