Crucifax

by Ray Garton

  There was more running just outside the room, and the shouting voices were becoming more and more frantic.

  "Call somebody!"

  "Who, who?"

  "Anybody, the front—oh, shit, ow!—the front office!"

  "Where'd they come from?"

  "I-I don't know, th-they—ah, Jesus, pull it off."

  Reaching for the door, Mace said, "Remember, stay close," and then he pulled it open.

  The corridor was flowing with Mace's dirty-gray creatures; they scurried in every direction, crawling over one another, wriggling madly, snapping their teeth and snarling at the white-clothed employees who were dashing through the corridor trying to jump over clusters of the things to avoid being bitten.

  Barry, the night janitor, a stocky, stubble-faced man in jeans and a dirty blue work shirt, was swinging a push-broom back and forth over the floor, trying to knock the creatures aside so he could move forward. One of them scurried up the handle, and Barry stepped back, tripped, and fell. He began to scream shrilly, waving his big arms through the air and kicking his legs like a swimmer.

  Doors were opening, and curious heads were peering out of dark rooms; some of the teenagers pulled the doors all the way open to watch, seeming more entertained than frightened by what they were seeing.

  Kevin could not even guess how many of the creatures were in the corridor. They seemed to be coming from both directions. In the light, Kevin got his first clear look at the wet, flat-nosed snouts and glistening black lips that curled beneath yellowed tusks and the slanted, deep-set eyes that burned gold beneath small pointed ears that lay back flat as sharp black claws clicked over the floor.

  "The goddamned phone's dead!" a woman shouted from the desk.

  Willie, an attendant with a quarterback build and smears of blood on his white coat, came around a corner kicking at the creatures, spotted Mace, and shouted, "Who the fuck are you?"

  Mace smiled at him and the lights went out.

  The woman at the desk screamed.

  The teenagers began to sound fearful then….

  "… the hell is going on…"

  "… Jesus, somethin's really wrong…."

  "… can't see a fuckin' thing…"

  The auxiliary power came on, not as bright as the regular lights, casting long, dancing shadows through the corridor.

  "Call the police, Allen!" Willie shouted. "Sound the alarm, maybe the—" His voice was swallowed by a scream as he fell to the floor and began thrashing while the creatures covered him in a rush.

  Mace's eyes scanned the faces in the doorways and said, "We're leaving. Anybody wanna come?"

  Laughter broke out among the teenagers then, and someone shouted, "Fuckin' A!" as Allen, another attendant, stepped away from the desk a few yards from Mace and snapped, "Hold it right there, buddy. I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you're not gonna—"

  Several of Mace's pets pressed in around Allen's feet, and he backed up clumsily, grabbed the edge of the desk, and lifted himself on top of it, grabbing a three-ring notebook and holding it before himself protectively as one of the things sprang through the air, its mouth open, lips pulled back in a snarl. It clamped its jaws shut on Allen's crotch and began to jerk its body from right to left in a frenzy. Allen screamed and hit the creature once with the notebook, twice, a third time, but it would not let go, and he fell backward off the desk, his scream breaking off into a ragged, pained gasp.

  Mace walked calmly down the corridor, and the creatures moved aside to let him pass as he said, with a wave, "Let's go"

  The others followed him, some in their underwear with clothes bundled in their arms, dressing as they walked, others already dressed, watching the creatures on the floor with a mixture of repulsion and fascination.

  As they rounded a corner, Mace removed a small flashlight from his coat pocket and flicked it on as the auxiliary lights blacked out. The flashlight beam passed over the floor and was reflected in golden eyes that were darting in every direction, then upward to the doors that were opening along the corridor to reveal curious teenagers in robes and pajamas and underwear. The beam stopped in an open doorway, cutting into the room and falling on the pale, narrow face of the girl Kevin had come to know as the Daddy-Hater. Her long, stringy dirty-blond hair fell down over her naked, gaunt body, reaching nearly to her waist, covering her tiny breasts. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open and sucking on the side of her hand. Mace stepped toward her, she took a step back.

  "I… I…" she whispered.

  "Hmm?" Mace said, his tone pleasant. "You what, honey?"

  "I… hate… daddies."

  "That's okay," he said smilingly, taking another step toward her. "I'm not your daddy. I'm your friend. Why don't you put your clothes on and come with us?"

  She watched him for a long moment, sucking silently on her hand, then turned, disappeared into the room for a minute, then returned, still timid but clothed, and joined them.

  Kevin walked at Mace's side; the others behind them invited those standing in their doorways to come along.

  "Hey, man, we're haulin' ass outta here!"

  "C'mon, we're blowin'!"

  There seemed no end to the creatures as Mace lead the teenagers through the corridors, around corners, through swinging double doors, from one ward to the next, toward the front of the building. It was so dark, Kevin was tempted to grasp a fold of Mace's long coat, but he didn't want to show his fear; the others behind him were following gladly, laughing and chatting as if they were at a party, and Kevin did not want Mace to think he had less trust in him than a bunch of total strangers.

  If they're strangers, he thought. Most of them acted as if they were already quite familiar with Mace.

  As they neared the main entrance they passed more attendants running blindly through the darkness, some of them shouting—

  "Call the police, goddammit, call—oh, Jesus, Jesus—call somebody, goddammit!"

  "Get the lights on, for Christ's sake—the lights!"

  —some of them screaming wordlessly, trying to stagger over the animals that were snapping at their feet and clinging to their legs.

  The flashlight beam passed over a gray-haired woman on the floor, her back against the wall, whimpering as her hands pulled weakly at the creature that was clutching her chest, blood running down her cheeks like black tears.

  They passed into the main lobby. There was no one at the desk, and one of the two glass doors in front was wide open. Rain was blowing in and soaking the carpet.

  As they neared the open door Mace put an arm around Kevin and said, "Say goodbye to this shithole, Kevin. Larry Caine is waiting…."

  At exactly ten-thirty, just as Mace had instructed her, Mallory pushed through the entrance of Mickey D.'s NY Pizza, followed by three other girls, Paula, Dena, and Lynn. She spotted Larry and his friends almost immediately. They were on the dance floor with four girls, dancing to something by Journey.

  Mallory led the other girls to a table at the edge of the dance floor, they ordered soft drinks and waited for the song to end.

  Earlier that evening, Mallory had been sitting at the edge of the pool with Mace, his legs straddling her, his arms around her waist and his hands on her stomach.

  "Do me a favor?" he'd whispered into her ear.

  "What?"

  "Tonight, take three of the girls with you to Mickey D.'s. Go in at ten-thirty. Larry Caine and three of his friends will be there. Get their attention, flirt with them awhile, but not for long. Get them out of there by ten forty-five. Take them to the alley behind the restaurant. Then just step aside and watch."

  "What are you going to do to them?"

  "I'm not going to do anything. But I think Kevin has a little score to settle with them."

  "Is Kevin coming?" she'd asked excitedly, turning around to face him.

  "I'm going to get him. And maybe a few of his friends."

  "What if Kevin hurts them?"

  "What if he does?"

  "I thought you
wanted to take as many people with you as you could."

  "I do, but Larry: and his friends don't want to come. They're too happy here. We have no use for them."

  The song ended, and another video began on the big-screen television, but Larry and his friends started off the dance floor, leaving the four girls behind them, still dancing.

  Larry spotted her.

  Mallory smiled and tilted her head back slightly, then turned away.

  They were at the table in seconds.

  "Hey, Mal," Larry said, pressing both palms to the table and leaning close to her, "haven't seen you in a while. Thought you'd disappeared. You give up on school, or what?"

  "Something like that," she said with a smirk, looking over his shoulder at the dance floor, feigning disinterest.

  "Mind if we sit with you?" Larry asked, already pulling a chair from the next table and seating himself across from Mallory. His friends did the same, smiling at the girls.

  "I don't care," Mallory said with a shrug. The waitress brought their soft drinks, and when Mallory opened her change purse, Larry quickly pulled out his wallet.

  "On me," he said with a wink, paying the waitress. She made change, and Larry handed her three one-dollar bills. "This is for you."

  "We're not staying long," Dena said with a secretive glance at Mallory.

  "Oh? Where you going?"

  "A party."

  Mallory could tell the other girls were enjoying themselves; they seemed to be having trouble keeping straight faces.

  "Yeah?" Larry said, turning to Mallory. "So, is this a private party, or can anybody come?"

  "You going to school tomorrow?" Mallory asked.

  "Yeah."

  "Then you don't want to come. The party hasn't started yet. Doesn't quit till dawn. If then."

  "Fuck," Larry laughed, looking at his friends. "Screw school, then. Where's the party?"

  The girls laughed, but not at Larry's remark. They were laughing at the ease with which he and his friends were snagged.

  "Unless your little boyfriend is gonna be there," Larry said to Mallory.

  "Kevin? Who said he was my boyfriend?"

  "I figured. Jesus, you spend so much time with him."

  "So? That doesn't mean anything. Besides, Kevin's gone."

  "Oh, yeah, that's right. I heard. Got into a little trouble." Larry let out a deep laugh, glancing knowingly at his buddies. "Well, since leather boy's gone, you don't wanna go to your party alone, do you? And look at this, the numbers are right, huh? Four girls, four guys."

  Mallory looked at Paula, Dena, and Lynn, and the four of them stifled laughs.

  Larry rose from his chair and leaned over the table toward Mallory, saying, "Y'know, you look like you've been doing some partying already. Those're pretty red eyes."

  "We had a few tokes," Paula said quietly, her voice nearly buried by the music.

  "Yeah? You got any on you?"

  "A little," Mallory said.

  Larry sat in his chair again and shrugged, saying, "Well, didn't your momma teach you to share?" His friends guffawed.

  "Not here," Mallory said with a shake of her head. "Wait till we get outside."

  "Who's driving?" Larry asked.

  "We can walk. It's really close. Just behind this place, really. A couple houses over."

  "Walk? In this rain?"

  "Haven't you ever walked in the rain?" Lynn asked. "It's romantic."

  "It's stupid," the guy with the earring said.

  Dena sighed. "Fine. Don't come."

  "Whoa, hold on," Larry blurted. "I guess a good party's worth getting wet for. Let's go."

  "Not yet." Mallory glanced at her watch; they needed another five minutes. "Let us finish our drinks."

  Five minutes later, they were on their way out of Mickey D.'s. Once outside, the guy with the earring groaned, "Jesus Christ, we're gonna walk through this?"

  "Shut up, Gregg," Larry snapped, putting his arm around Mallory as they turned left on the sidewalk and hurried through the rain. He put his mouth to her ear and said, "Lead the way, babe."

  Mallory smiled as Larry slipped his hand beneath her arm and pressed it to the side of her breast, not minding that he was getting a good feel through her heavy coat. She almost laughed as they neared the alley, anticipation fluttering in her chest. She knew she was going to enjoy this.

  "What're we going down here for?" Larry shouted, trying to be heard above the wind and rain as she steered them into the alley.

  "Back way," she replied.

  A gutter ran down the center of the alley and was gushing with dirty water. The tall lamps that lined the alley cast reflective pools of light in the water. Mallory heard the others splashing behind them.

  "How far is this party?" Larry asked.

  Two yards ahead of them, the flowing water gurgled into the holes in a manhole cover.

  "Not far."

  A voice cut through the noise, clear and powerful; Mallory recognized it immediately.

  "Now!" Mace shouted from below.

  The manhole cover shot upward, then fell to the ground with a splash and a clang. Two hands rose from the hole and gripped the edges, and Kevin pulled himself up. One of Mace's pets was perched on his left shoulder and he held a heavy chain in his right hand. He was on his feet in an instant, raised his left hand, flicked his wrist, and a switchblade clicked open, glinting in the hazy light as raindrops spattered loudly onto his black leather jacket. He smiled, and his laugh sounded like thick ice being cut.

  Larry's arm dropped away from Mallory, and he stuttered, "Who the—I thought—what the fuck's going on?"

  Kevin moved toward him and asked, "Hey, Larry, how's it hangin'?"

  Two more hands reached out of the manhole behind Kevin, and another figure rose up through the rain.

  Another manhole cover clattered off behind them, and Larry's three friends spun around, stepping away from the girls, who were moving to the side of the alley, laughing.

  Larry turned to Mallory, his smile gone, his eyes narrow with sudden realization as he growled, "You cunt."

  The creature on Kevin's shoulder dove with a piercing shriek toward Larry, but he threw himself to the left, out of its way, moving straight into the chain as Kevin swung it through the air like a whip. It caught Larry on the shoulder, and he splashed to the ground with a cry of surprise.

  Footsteps splattered over the wet pavement; chains whistled through the air, and switchblades clicked; fists met flesh, and skulls cracked. In the dim light, Mallory could make out little more than shuffling forms and glistening metal, but the sounds were vivid enough.

  A bone broke with a thick, moist smack, and Mace's laugh rose from below as the water in the gutter darkened with blood…

  When Kevin returned to the dark basement of the old health club, there was still blood in his hair, and his hands were cold and numb. The others were laughing, smoking grass, drinking. He'd never seen the basement so crowded and noisy. He peeled off his wet jacket and settled onto one of the cushions in a corner. Mallory hurried over to him, leaned down, and kissed his forehead.

  "Welcome back," she said, curling up on his lap. She was still out of breath and laughed with each exhalation. "Hey, c'mon, cheer up," she said, giving him a big kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth, sloppily nibbling on his lower lip.

  Kevin felt nothing but a pounding in his skull and a gnawing ache in his stomach.

  The events of the last two hours were already beginning to fade, as if he'd dreamed them; he began to feel uncertain if the fight had actually happened, if he'd felt the crack of Larry Caine's skull through the chain he'd held, if he'd actually heard bones breaking around him and the final raspy breaths of four boys his own age….

  "I didn't want to kill them," he whispered as Mallory pulled away from him. "I just… just wanted to… beat the shit out of 'em. But we… we killed 'em."

  "You don't know that. Did you check? No. They were just… beat up. Like you wanted." She laughed as she wriggled ou
t of her coat.

  "They're all dead. I know it."

  "They'll be okay. We won't be here much longer, anyway. Excited about the concert?"

  A girl with dark circles under her eyes wearing a bathrobe came over and handed Mallory a joint. She took a long drag and offered it to Kevin; he shook his head.

  "C'mon, Kev," she said. "You've been stuck in that place for—"

  "No," he snapped. "Get up."

  "But I wanted to—"

  He pushed her crumpled coat away, took her arm, and started to move her aside, but he stopped when he saw the bruise.

  It looked like a bruise in the flickering lantern light, but when he lifted her arm closer to his eyes, he saw the tiny marks on her inner elbow—three of them, each surrounded by discolored flesh.

  "The fuck is this?"

  "What? Oh, those. Needle marks."

  "Needle… What the hell have you been doing here?"

  "I just did a little. A few times is all. I wanted to try it. One of the girls—Geneva, I think—her mother is a diabetic, and Geneva steals her syringes." She took another drag, held it, blew it out slowly. "Just wanted to try it, that's all."

  "Jesus Christ! What're you, stupid? I mean, that's major fuckin' stupid!" He backed away from her, suddenly not wanting to touch her anymore, and pressed himself against the wall. "You think you just do that stuff a few times, then no more? That stuff 11 fuck you up, Mallory, I mean it!"

  Her eyes widened, and she stared at him openmouthed. "Well, listen to you. Mr. Cleancut Goodboy!"

  "Hey, I don't do that shit!"

  "Glad to be back, Kevin?"

  He looked up to see Mace towering over them, smiling, his hands behind his back, his narrow frame backlit by the lanterns, his face dark.

  "Something wrong?" Mace asked when Kevin said nothing.

  "Mace," Kevin said, getting to his feet. "What's this?" He pulled Mallory up beside him and held out her arm.

  "Needle marks."

  "I know, but…" Kevin stared at the marks, then looked up at Mace again, confused. He'd thought Mace cared, thought he'd wanted to watch out for them, protect them from those who didn't care. That no longer seemed the case. "How could you do this?"