by Brian Harmon
“Oh shit,” he breathed. Panic welled up inside him, threatening to overwhelm him.
“What?” Brandy asked, alarmed. “What is it?”
Albert had wondered what could make the fear room more deadly than the hate room with its spiked pit. Now he knew. And now that he knew, he was terrified to even move.
“Albert?”
“Spikes,” he replied. “Coming up from the floor. Don’t anybody move.” He tried to focus his eyes on what was around him. He could see a few sticking out from the wall now that he was looking for them.
“Like the ones Beverly fell on?” Nicole asked.
“Yeah. But more of them. They’re coming up from the floor at an angle. On the walls, too.” Albert could not see well enough with Brandy’s glasses on to spot them all, yet if he took them off he would surely panic at the sight of the statues that stood around him. If he panicked, he could run himself right through, which was exactly the reasoning behind these horrible things, he was sure.
“Okay. We have to take our time in here. If we don’t, if we let ourselves get scared and we start to hurry, one or more of us will wind up just like Beverly, but vertical.” It was a horrible image, but hopefully it would prove to drive home the point…or not, as the case may be.
“Well then let’s all just remain calm,” Wayne said. “How’re you doing?”
Albert steeled himself mentally. “I’m holding in there.” He began to walk forward, moving slowly, with deliberate cautiousness. He focused on watching for the spikes and found them to be an easier fear to deal with than the mysterious statues. He reminded himself that as long as he kept his pace slow, those giant needles could give only an annoying poke. And with Brandy’s glasses on, his eyes would be protected. “Stay right behind me. Try not to veer to the sides.”
His pride also helped to hold back the fear, he found. He wanted to be brave. He didn’t want to look like a coward, no matter how justified his fear may be. It was not so much for Brandy, who knew the horrors of this room as well as he did, or even for Nicole. Ironically, it was a childish, petty urge to prove that he was braver than bigger, stronger Wayne, who had now seen his girlfriend naked. It was silly, to say the least, but it helped a little, so he embraced it.
This second chamber of the fear room was curved. It wrapped around the first, circling to the right. The statues were many, but not as many as there had been before, and these were somehow not as bad. Most were formless, hunched shadows or vague, human shapes, with no real meaning to his handicapped eyes. Only one caught his attention: an unusually tall and slim figure far to his right.
It was not a man or a woman, but something else, something not human, but upright, just the same. As his eyes swept across this, he thought for some reason about fog. Dense fog. Fog so thick that he could barely see his own hand. There was something terribly creepy about this image, something incredibly unsettling. (They’re everywhere!) He turned away from the tall thing and the image of the fog became a hazy memory, but the eeriness it had instilled remained.
God, it was hard not to hurry.
“Is everyone still okay back there?” Albert asked, trying to focus his attention away from that strange eeriness. This room was like that fog, thick and gray and full of nasty, hiding surprises.
Brandy had let go of his hand and was holding onto his waist, her flashlight still in one clenched fist. She pressed her face against his backpack and said, “I’m okay.”
“I’m fine, too.” Nicole had her free hand on Brandy’s shoulder.
“Me too,” Wayne reported. “We’re all fine. Just take care of yourself up there.”
“You’ve already gotten farther than we got before,” Brandy told him.
“I know,” Albert said. He was moving toward the end of the room. Ahead he could just see the square outline of the door. “We’re almost through this room.”
“How many are there?” Nicole asked.
“I don’t know,” Albert confessed. “Could be just these two. Could be a hundred. Down here I don’t doubt anything.”
In the corner of the room, to the left of the door, there was a statue of a man with his arms outstretched. For just a moment something surfaced in Albert’s mind, something (he won’t die!) every bit as eerie as the image of the fog, but much more distant, much more vague. He focused on the doorway itself. He could see more of those narrow spikes jutting up from the floor on either side of it, angled inward. “Be careful going through the door. Follow me as close as you can or you’ll get cut.”
He stepped up to the doorway, but paused before entering it. “I’m going to try and see if this is the way out.”
Brandy squeezed his waist, afraid for him.
Albert closed his eyes and removed the glasses. He then lowered his head so that he would be looking only at his feet when he opened his eyes. For a moment he stood that way, steeling himself for the fright he would likely see, wondering if there were things down here that could frighten a man so badly he could drop dead at the very sight. A childish paranoia ran through him, a horrible urge to quickly look around and make sure they were really alone, and he had to bite his lip to hold it back. At last, he lifted the hand he held Brandy’s glasses in as if to shield himself from sunlight, and opened his eyes. He stared down at his own bare feet on solid stone. He held his eyes there, willing them not to move, then lifted them slowly, raising his hand as he did so, using it as a visor. There was no pit of spikes, no trap of any other sort, but as he lifted his head, he saw a stone foot.
More statues.
Another chamber.
He closed his eyes immediately and returned Brandy’s narrow glasses to his face. When he opened his eyes again, he found that could make out a large, awkward form standing in front of him. It was not shaped like a man, but more like three, huddled strangely close together. Looking at it sent an odd tingle up his spine.
More shapeless forms loomed behind this statue. “It’s a third chamber,” he reported. “Come on. Be careful.”
As he walked past the first statue in this third chamber, his eyes fixed on the empty darkness ahead of him, he suddenly felt a piercing pain in his right arm. He drew back, hissing a little.
“What happened?” Brandy’s voice was tinged with panic.
“Spike,” he replied as he gazed down at the long, almost invisible thing that was jutting out from the statue. “Some of them are sticking out of the statues. Watch yourselves.”
Brandy was not concerned with herself. “Are you okay?”
Albert assured her that he was and continued walking, his left hand pressed against a shallow, bleeding gash in his right arm, just below the elbow.
The statues in this third chamber were in greater numbers than in the second, but were not so many as were in the first. As he walked, he saw that there was another doorway immediately ahead and to the left, behind a large, animal-like statue. “I think I see the next door.” The room continued on past this doorway, curving toward the right as the last one had, and he wondered, not for the first time, if one of these rooms could have more than one exit.
“Already?” Nicole sounded skeptical.
“It seems sort of random,” Albert explained, “sort of like a maze, hard to navigate, especially blind.” As he approached this new door, he found the statue that stood between it and him disturbing. It reminded him of a forest somehow, thick and lush, almost a jungle. As he grew closer he imagined a noise, like the chirping of a squirrel, but louder, lower, more menacing. A feeling of overwhelming panic was welling up inside him and he had to stop and close his eyes. His every instinct told him to run, to hide, to just get the hell out of there before… Before what? He had closed his eyes, had blocked out the sight of that horrible statue, but still that feeling of impending doom remained.
“Albert?” Brandy’s voice again, trembling, fearful.
Albert focused his thoughts on her, on keeping her safe. He stood there, silent and still, trying hard to focus on something other than the fear, on something other
than this damned room. Why the hell had he wanted to come back here so badly? Nothing was worth this. Nothing.
“Albert?” Brandy again, the fear in her voice sharper than before.
“Albert?” Nicole’s voice this time, sounding equally concerned.
“Okay,” Albert tried to assure them, but his voice was soft and dry, almost inaudible. He took a deep breath, then another. “Okay,” he said again, this time loud enough to be heard over the pounding of his heart. He took a third deep breath, held it, and then opened his eyes.
It came up from his right, lunging out of the darkness. In the space of a heartbeat, everything was blood and chaos. Something sharp entered low on his right side and jolted up and back, severing his spine with the speed and power of a machine. He screamed and fell to the floor, his lower body seemingly gone from beneath him.
“Albert!” Terrified, Brandy fell onto him, clutching him in her arms. Her eyes had flown open, but she saw only Albert, his limp form lying sprawled beneath her. “Oh god!”
Nicole, too, had opened her eyes when Albert screamed, and instantly she wished she hadn’t. She was looking right into a great, snarling face, a beast with more teeth than head, covered with a thick, gray coat of stone fur. She staggered backward, into Wayne, and dropped her flashlight onto the floor. Then a huge arm wrapped around her waist and a thick hand fell over her eyes. She screamed out, terrified, kicking frantically.
“Calm down!” Wayne yelled. “Just calm down! I’ve got you! It’s okay!”
Brandy was screaming Albert’s name. She didn’t understand what happened.
Albert felt light, like a balloon. The world around him was slowly spinning and seemed to be drifting away from him.
Brandy ran her hands over him, sliding them down to where he’d been speared, trying to understand what had happened. She was crying, terrified. “Oh God!” she cried. “Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!”
But she seemed so far away to Albert. Her touch didn’t hurt. In fact, he could not feel her touch at all once her hands fell below the middle of his waist. He was numb down there, completely without feeling. Darkness grew around him, slowly swallowing him into its black belly, and he felt deep sleep beckoning him.
Nicole’s kicking grew less frantic as she realized who it was that was holding her, and she began to wilt, embracing Wayne’s big, comforting arms. This isn’t happening, she thought as her best friend begged God for some kind of miracle. Please say this isn’t happening.
Wayne had not opened his eyes when Albert screamed. He froze in place, squeezing his eyes tightly closed. If asked, he could not have said why or how. Perhaps it was the thought of those random spikes sticking out from the statues and walls all around him, ready to impale anyone who panicked in these dark rooms, or perhaps he had just gotten lucky and froze in pure fright. Either way, he’d managed to remain in control throughout the chaos that had suddenly erupted around him. Now he stood, clutching Nicole against him, still holding his hand over her eyes as he listened to the drama that was unfolding before him.
Brandy didn’t understand. The confusion was almost a physical thing, dark and slippery. She took Albert’s hand, but it was weak. She called his name, but he did not answer.
Albert slowly faded, sinking toward a darkness that was deeper than any sleep.
Brandy fell over him, holding him in her arms. “Albert…” she begged, sobbing. “Albert…no…”
Chapter 13
“Albert…” Brandy’s voice was soft and pitiful. She didn’t understand. How could it have come to this? “Please, Albert…”
Nicole’s heart shattered as she listened to this. “Albert…?” she whispered. “Is he…?” She did not want to say it, did not want to hear the answer.
Tears rolled down Brandy’s face. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. They could lose Olivia and Beverly, but Albert was the one who was supposed to get the rest of them through this thing. It was his adventure. It started with him. He was the one who solved the riddles of the box.
Why did she come back down here? What could be worth risking this? They never should have pressed their luck after returning from Gilbert House. They should’ve just gone home and stayed there. The phones couldn’t ring forever, could they? She took a long, shuddering breath. What were they going to do now? How would they go on? How would she go on?
“Brandy?” It was Wayne who spoke, his voice commanding in the silence, yet gentle. When she did not reply, he spoke again: “Brandy. What happened?”
“Nothing.” This was Albert’s voice, spoken as he spiraled back from his strange plummet into darkness.
Brandy let out a great, wet sob and squeezed him, so thankful to hear his voice again. Her heart was thudding with such relief that she thought it might explode in her chest.
Nicole made a sound as if someone socked her in the belly, a whoop of expelled air mixed with a great sob of relief. Wayne could feel her tears against the palm of his hand.
“What the fuck?” Wayne asked.
“I don’t know,” Albert confessed. He sat up, wrapping his arms around Brandy as she sobbed against him. Keeping his eyes closed was no real task. He felt as though he’d just awakened from a deep sleep, his lids heavy. He ran one hand down his right side. There was no blood, no wound, no numbness in his legs. He was fine. Nothing had touched him. It was all just a vivid memory, a terrible hallucination.
“You don’t know?” Wayne exclaimed. “Hell, I thought you died or something!”
“So did I,” Albert said and held Brandy a little tighter. “The statues in here are real bad. I shouldn’t have led for so long.”
“Give me the glasses,” Wayne said. He dropped his hand from over Nicole’s eyes and released his grip on her waist. She lingered for only a moment, orienting herself, and then felt her way to Albert and Brandy, following the sound of her best friend’s weeping. “I’ll take my turn next. I think the girls have had all the trauma they can take for a little while.”
“Okay.” Albert didn’t have the energy to argue, even if he wanted. He was still trembling. Somewhere, in some other time very distant from now, someone once experienced that very same death. Only that person never returned from the darkness. He’d somehow taken that memory from the statue, just as he’d picked up the vague images of the forest before that. As he sat there, he wondered again if this knowledge could possibly be real, or if the statues only made him believe them to be real. He supposed it didn’t matter. Either way, it was effective.
For a moment they all remained where they were, letting the shock of the chaos fade away, letting the world slow to its normal speed again. Albert held Brandy. Brandy held Albert. Nicole held them both, kneeling over them like their guardian angel.
In the intimate silence, Wayne stood patiently, listening and waiting, giving them the moment that they needed.
At last, Albert stood up. Brandy and Nicole still clung to him, both of them reluctant to let him go. He reached out, blindly, and handed Brandy’s glasses to Wayne. “The door’s over there,” he said, “straight in front of you. Try not to look at the statue in front of it. You won’t like what you see.”
“I don’t expect I would.” Wayne slipped Brandy’s glasses onto his face. On him, they looked even more comical than they had on Albert, like a set of granny bifocals, dwarfed by his large, round face, but no one was looking at him anyway. He could see the square opening directly ahead of him. He could also see the statue in front of that opening, and he felt a strange uneasiness at the sight of it.
Wayne closed his eyes for a moment, preparing himself for what he was about to do. The feeling of uneasiness he felt from the formless statue did not vanish with his sight. It lingered like the smell of a recently removed carcass.
He thought about Beverly, called upon the memory of her lying in the pit, the tips of those terrible spikes protruding from her pale skin. He tried to imagine what she might have felt in those final seconds. Did she feel every agonizing pierce as
the giant needles were driven up into her naked body? It was a terribly morbid thought, but it served to focus his attention on what was important. He did not intend to let anyone else die today.
When he opened his eyes, he focused not on the statue, but on the thin, stone thorns that surrounded the door behind it. He would have to keep his head if he was going to get them through this.
“Everybody ready?” he asked.
“As ready as we’re going to get,” Albert replied. He was standing behind Wayne. Both Brandy and Nicole were still pressed against him, the three of them huddled together in an intimate group hug. He felt horrible about his strange delusion. He had terrified them, not merely startling them when he cried out, but actually making them believe something had killed him. He could not even imagine how it would have felt if it had been Brandy lying there, apparently slipping away from him.
“I love you so much!” Brandy wept, her voice muffled against his skin.
“I love you too,” Albert assured her. “Come on. Let’s get moving. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
As she pulled away, Nicole slapped him softly on his chest. “I swear to God,” she said, her voice trembling, “if you ever die for real I’ll kill myself and come kick your fucking ass!”
Albert smiled. “You do that.” He pulled them both to him once more, holding them for another moment.
Wayne felt a cold and lonely pang of jealousy. Albert was a very lucky man. He was really cared about, really loved. He stared ahead, still trying to focus on the memory of Beverly Bridger’s body and not see the terrible statue in front of him. “The door’s surrounded by those spikes,” he said, trying to stay on track. “We’ll go through slow. Stay as low as you can.”
Albert and Nicole picked up their dropped flashlights and then began to move, Albert in back, Brandy ahead of him, Nicole ahead of her.
With his thoughts focused, Wayne had little trouble navigating around the statue.
“Don’t go through the door without looking,” Albert warned. “Remember the hate room.”
