by Sam Millar
“We need to separate, save time,” continued Brendan, pointing directly at one of two rooms stationed at the back of the anteroom. “You search the far room over there. I’ll take the other one. If you find anything – no matter how insignificant it seems – holler. Understand?”
Karl nodded before entering the designated room, trying desperately to remain positive in such a negative milieu of horror. The room’s ground had been torn up also, exposing sediment layers. The stench of excrement was becoming stronger, burglarising his senses.
A shovel resting against the wall like a drunken guard sent a shudder up his spine. A question immediately entered his head, but he quickly erased it, not wanting its answer.
Taking the shovel, he gently skimmed the top layer of dirt before pushing under, hitting concrete and old bricks.
“Bastard,” he mumbled, trance-like, each time he struck the hardened surface, his digging becoming more desperate. Tiny sparks were dancing from the impact. He imagined the ground was Hannah’s smirking face.
“Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!”
“Karl!” shouted Brendan, breaking the trance. “Karl!”
“Y … yes?”
“In here … hurry!”
Moving quickly, Karl found Brendan scrutinising something that he’d unearthed with the stick.
“What is it?” asked Karl, breathless.
“I … there’s a possibility …”
Just the top third of the face was visible, hid behind a mask of stones and dirt. Eyes, shrink-wrapped in darkness, were peering through clotted strands of filthy ropey hair, staring into space with bewilderment and terror. Withered arm bones stretched, as if reaching for something. The bony chest had been crushed into the fluted rib cage. The withered skin was red, flecked with dried blood. Most disturbing was her sex, swollen and split like an over-ripe fruit.
“No … oh God no …” Karl could feel the edges of his sanity on the move, spiralling out of control. Beyond all he had witnessed before in his life, this was the most terrifying. The claustrophobic walls were moving in. He couldn’t breathe. Vomit spewed from his mouth.
“Easy … easy, Karl. Take deep breaths … easy,” coaxed Brendan, gripping, preventing Karl from buckling.
“I … I don’t want to look. I’ve seen enough,” said Karl, fighting back tears while wiping the sourness from his mouth.
“You’ve got to. We need to know if it’s –”
“I said no! Not now … just … just give me time …”
“Okay, okay. No problem. Let’s edge back out –”
“What was that sound?” asked Karl, his damp eyes wide and crazed. “You heard it, didn’t you?”
“I’ll take that shovel from you, Karl,” said Brendan, staring into Karl’s eyes. “Just go outside and –”
“Listen!”
It sounded like a cat meowing in a cardboard box. A raspy mew. Hollow. Distant. Somehow intentionally creepy.
“It’s probably tunnel noises, Karl … nothing else.”
“It’s coming from back there, down at the end of the room,” insisted Karl, quickly pushing past Brendan, almost knocking him to the ground. “Hello? Who’s there? Can you hear me?”
Nothing. Nerves and adrenaline playing fucking mind games.
He tried once more.
“Hello! Can you hear –?”
“Help …”
“Shit. You’re right, Karl. The old toilets! That’s where it’s coming from.”
Kicking in the door, almost taking it off its hinges, Karl hurriedly entered the toilet area.
“Where are …?” His voice trailed off. Tight against the far wall, a naked shape patched in muck and excrement was positioned in the foetus position. It looked like an old sack of coal, with only the whiteness of terrified eyes giving any indication of being human.
“Please … please don’t hurt me,” whispered a rusted voice.
“Katie …? Katie!” howled Karl, an anguished sound of disbelief and joy as he bent, scooping Katie in his arms.
“Dad …?”
“My Katie. My beautiful Princess,” he whispered tenderly, kissing her face, kissing away muck and shit, combing her hair back with his fingers.
“Oh, Dad! Is it … is it really you?” Tears were streaming down her mucky face. “Is it … really you, Dad?”
“You better believe it’s me, Princess!” Tears began stinging his eyes while he quickly removed his coat, placing it gently over Katie’s shoulders.
“You haven’t called me Princess since I was seven.”
“Five, but let’s not quibble over a couple of years,” said Karl, smiling, crying. “Can you stand? We’ve got to get out of here, sweetie.”
“I … feel weak. I’ve been vomiting a lot …”
“It’s okay, it’s okay … just stand still. I’m calling an ambulance and the police,” stated Karl, fumbling in his pocket for his mobile, before quickly hitting 999. “Hello? Hello! What the hell’s wrong with this damn thing?”
“You’ll not get a signal down here, Karl,” said Brendan, placing Katie’s left arm on his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get out of here as quickly as –”
Without warning, the lights went dead, and a heavy darkness immediately filled the room.
Katie began trembling.
“It’s him! He’s coming for me!” shouted Katie. “He always comes in the dark. Don’t let him touch me again, Dad. Don’t let him –”
“Shhh. Easy, love. I promise he’ll never touch you again.”
“Promise?”
Karl’s knuckles tightened into bone-whiteness. “Promise.”
“Stay here, both of you,” instructed Brendan, producing a gun from his rucksack.
“What are you going to do?” asked Karl.
“I don’t know until I do it. Stay here until I give the all-clear.”
Karl could hear Brendan shuffling carefully out of the room. A few seconds later, the horrible silence returned.
“What will that man do if he finds the monster, Dad?”
“Brendan? I don’t know, love,” replied Karl, pulling Katie closer.
“I hope he kills the monster. Makes him suffer …” replied Katie, in a voice that sent shivers down Karl’s spine.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“If thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.”
William Shakespeare, Othello
Brendan slid along the wall, moving slowly yet steadily, his mind chartering the journey he had made into the anteroom, all the while retracing his steps back out. He kept the gun at waist level, pointing at a slight angle, wishing he had brought the sawn-off shotgun with its indiscriminate blasting power, able to transform a human head into ash. The sawn-off might be socially unacceptable and awkward to use, but it was single-minded in purpose and always got the job done.
You’ve just described yourself perfectly, thought Brendan, moving further into the darkness.
A sound to his left made him halt. Listening, he dropped immediately on hunkers, lessening his body’s target area. A grim smile appeared on his face. Big might be better, but in this situation, smaller is smarter.
Controlling his breathing, he gently thumbed back the hammer on the revolver. A mechanical pulse travelled through the gun’s heavy steel frame: a pulse that journeyed through his body before settling in his brain like a bullet. It had been a long time since he had experienced that pulse. It was beautiful and timely. Much needed.
Crawling on elbows and knees, he inched forward painstakingly slowly, the unmerciful concrete ground cutting through clothing, sandpapering his skin into a bloody mess. He felt the clingy dampness of new blood travelling down his arms and legs, and instinctively clenched his teeth to create a pain barrier.
This is nothing. You’ve endured worse. Just make sure you find this bastard before he finds you.
Something whooshed close to his right ear, stopping him dead in his tracks. It sounded like a hundred angry wasps caught in a bottle.
Rolling twice, he fired two shots in succession – bam! bam! – before standing, running for the far wall.
Don’t panic. Assume nothing except what is taking place at the present moment.
Another whooshing sound popped his ears just as his body touched the wall. He was suddenly frightened and incredibly angry; angry for allowing himself to be trapped this clumsily.
Something moved in the darkness, ahead. He dropped to one knee, the adrenaline rushing through his body inducing an instinctual call for self-preservation. Seconds later, something hit the wall, inches above his head.
Bam! Brendan fired, the muzzle flash momentarily revealing a distorted shadow. He was sure it was Hannah. Had he hit him, wounded the bastard, hopefully killed him?
“Arghhhhhhhhhh!” screamed Brendan, feeling his body propelling backwards as another whooshing sound made impact, hitting him perfectly.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
“The last act is bloody, however charming the rest of the play may be.”
Blaise Pascal, Pensées
“What … what was all that shooting, Dad?” whispered Katie, gripping her father tighter.
“I … I don’t know, sweetie.”
“Do you think … do you think Brendan shot him, killed him?”
Karl couldn’t answer. Darkness was pouring into his brain, making it difficult to think. Something told him Brendan was dead.
“I heard something, Dad.”
“What? What, sweetie?”
“Something. Something out there. Listen …”
Karl listened, holding his breath. He cursed his heart, its thumping making it impossible to hear.
“I need you to rest on the ground, sweetie. Just for a minute or two.”
“What? No! You’re not leaving me!” screamed Katie, clinging tighter to Karl.
“Shhhhhh, sweetie. I’m not leaving you. I swear to you. But you’ve got to trust me. Do as I say. Quickly. We don’t have much time.”
“I’m scared, Dad.”
“I know, sweetie, but hang in there. Have faith in your old man. Okay?”
Wiping away tears and muck, Kate nodded.
“Good girl,” said Karl, easing Katie to the ground. “Just stay still and –”
A noise, a sneaky, not-wanting-to-be-heard noise moved in the darkness.
“Dad …”
“Shhhhhh …”
In the godless gloaming, a shape was approaching, its many-angled blackness almost impossible to discern.
A horrible sensation began stabbing into Karl’s gut, travelling all the way to his bowels. Clammy sweat began hugging his face.
Closer, you bastard. That’s right. Just a little bit closer and you’ll –
“Karl …? I’m hit … pretty bad …” moaned Brendan, collapsing.
“Brendan …!” shouted Karl, quickly bending over the fallen body. “What happened? I heard shots being fired and … you’re bleeding … what the hell’s that?”
From Brendan’s upper body, an arrow’s metal shaft angled outwards, protruding horribly.
“I … I saw him, Karl. The bastard is stark bollock naked and covered in what looks like blood and war paint. He was mere feet away from me.” Brendan grimaced, sweating terribly. “He … he looked like the devil … the bastard’s … wearing night vision goggles and –”
“Night vision? Fuck.”
“– and armed to the rotten teeth with some sort of crossbow and a quiver full of lethal arrows. This one in my shoulder has to have had an expandable impact head. Feels like a steel fist, opening and closing.” Brendan grimaced again.
“I can’t pull that out. Too dangerous. Somehow, we’ve got to get you out of here, before you bleed to death.”
“No! No … we … we don’t have time for that nonsense,” exclaimed Brendan, gritting his teeth. “Besides, it takes more than an arrow from William bloody Tell to put me out of business. Just help me up. I’ve got a plan B.”
“Plan B?” said Karl, quickly removing his shirt, shredding it into bandage strips.
“That’s right. And before you say it, hopefully it’ll be better than plan A,” replied Brendan, reaching out his hand before being eased up slowly from the ground.
“Let me place these strips against the wound, Brendan. They should help stem the flow of blood for a while.”
“I think I hit him.”
“What?”
“Not one hundred per cent, but there’s a possibility I shot him, in the leg.”
“That’s something, anyway. Pity it wasn’t his head.”
“Dad? What’s going to happen?” asked Katie, concern in her voice.
Karl glanced at Brendan.
“Your father and I are going to have to go and find this monster, before he finds us, Katie.”
“No! Dad, tell him. You promised you wouldn’t leave.”
“No one’s leaving you, love. Isn’t that right, Brendan?”
“It’s going to be difficult enough without worrying about –”
“Isn’t that right, Brendan?”
“Okay,” sighed Brendan, resigned. “Let’s get moving. Just keep in mind that he can see us at all times – though he’ll probably be wary, knowing we’re not defenceless.”
“Katie, sweetie. You’ll have to walk directly behind me, love. Okay?”
“Yes … don’t walk too fast or too far ahead …”
“I’ll be right beside you. Don’t worry.”
Moving slowly, the trio exited the room, hedging themselves against the walls, Karl leading.
“I’m going forward a few feet ahead,” whispered Brendan.
“Don’t be a fool,” hissed Karl. “He’ll pick you off like a sitting duck.”
“We’re the ones walking like a bloody duck patrol straight into his sights. He’ll pick each of us off, if we don’t spread out. Let’s make the bastard a little nervous, let him earn his blood.”
“With those night vision goggles, he’ll be watching our every move.”
“He doesn’t know how many guns we have, even with his goggles on. Here. Take this,” said Brendan, handing the gun to Karl. “You know how to use it?”
Karl gripped the weapon in his hand. Despite the gun’s heavy cargo of dead weight, there was a feeling of naturalness, a familiar intercourse with the grip. Uncannily, the gun seemed designed to fit his hand. Either that, or his hand was designed to fit the gun.
“Why are you giving me this?”
“I’m going to be a decoy. He’ll go after the wounded animal first, try and finish it.”
“You’re in no state, Brendan, and you’re starting to bleed badly again. Let me do whatever you have in mind.”
“What I have in mind, only I can do. You protect your daughter. That’s your priority. I’ve a little surprise in store for William Tell, and it isn’t a damn apple. When you hear my command, just fire at anything moving. Understand?”
“No, I don’t understand, but I’ll do it anyway.”
“Good,” said Brendan, disappearing into the darkness.
“What’s happening, Dad? Has Brendan left us?”
“Everything is fine, sweetie, but from here it’s vitally important that we remain quiet. Okay? Katie? Katie!”
Without warning, Katie suddenly lost consciousness.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
“A thick, black cloud swirled before my eyes, and my mind told me that in this cloud, unseen as yet, but about to spring out upon my appalled senses, lurked all that was vaguely horrible, all that was monstrous and inconceivably wicked in the universe.”
Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of the Devil’s Foot
Brendan eased slowly down The Tunnel, his right arm dangling uselessly. Blood was flowing more freely from the gaping wound, making him light-headed. He wondered just how much time he had before losing consciousness? Tellingly, there was no pain. He suspected what that meant.
Suddenly, he heard something not too far in
front. Unfortunately, it wasn’t sudden enough. You stupid bastard, he thought, but before he could think again something hit his right leg. “Arrrrrggggghhhhhhhhhhh!”
Brendan felt new blood running down his leg, warming the skin. His left hand came up instinctively, pressing down against the wound. He felt relieved when he saw the red spray on the wall behind him, knowing it meant that there was an exit wound and that the arrow had gone right through.
Instinctively dropping to one knee, he pushed flat against the wall, breathing heavily. Seconds later another arrow smashed into a brick above his head.
“Missed, you bastard!” shouted Brendan, laughing like some crazed creature. “You’re frightened of men, aren’t you? That’s why your hands are trembling. No longer fighting little girls, you sick bast –”
An arrow whizzed past Brendan’s eyebrow, barely missing the eye. It stunned him into silence, but only for a few seconds.
“C’mon, Hannah! You can do better than that. Surely even a paedophile like you can –?”
“Surely I can,” hissed Hannah, suddenly standing triumphantly over Brendan, scalpel in hand, pressing it tight against his neck. “You first, and then lovely Katie. I want Kane to witness everything before he dies. Blame him for your misfortune. He brought all this to – arrggggggggggggggghhhhhhh!”
“Now, Karl! Nowwwwwww!” shouted Brendan, holding the flaming flare in his hand, blinding Hannah. Suddenly, the entire tunnel was abruptly lit up like fireworks night. A naked Hannah was screaming, frantically clawing at the night goggles, as if acid had been thrown into his face.
Karl came rushing down the tunnel, gun pointing, stopping directly beside the screaming Hannah.
“Shoot him, Karl!” shouted Brendan. “Now, while you have the chance. Shoot the bastard!”
Karl’s hand began shaking terribly as he held the gun to Hannah’s head, pulling back the hammer.
Hannah continued clawing at his eyes, screaming.
Karl fired once, bringing the screaming to an end.
“It’s over …” said Karl, lowering the gun, pushing a stunned and shaking Hannah down on to the ground beside Brendan.
