She pointed a finger at Jake.
Jake blinked.
Oh, that’s right.
He cleared his throat. ‘Yes—what he said.’ He nodded at Coleman, who rolled his eyes.
‘Ugh. Let’s go.’
To Jake’s complete lack of surprise, the subway was just as dank and dirty as ever.
Coleman and his men in the lead, they descended the steps to the platform, where Jake was similarly unsurprised to find yet more men in full assault-getup standing there, their faces stern.
It was indeed a mess, just as Eliza had promised. Support columns with chunks punched out of them. Newspaper stands kicked over. The floor was all smashed up, bits of broken tile seemingly everywhere, and there were striplights hanging detached from the ceiling right across the platform, their lights flickering and casting long shadows on the station’s graffiti-laden walls. Worst of all, however, was the slime; a thick, bile-like substance, not unlike the consistency of snot. Because it was everywhere. On the floor, the walls—hell, even the ceiling, thick tendrils of it hanging down in places like drool from a dog’s mouth.
Jake covered his nose with his hand. ‘Ugh. You smell that?’ he said. ‘What is that? Smells like rotten eggs.’
Moss nodded. ‘Sulfur; the smell of the recently crossed-over.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘You do not get used to it, I’m afraid.’
They made their way to the edge of the platform, where a subway car waited, its doors open, and another heavily armed man standing just inside it. He looked very pale.
Looking past him, Jake instantly saw why.
Slime—not just your ordinary slime, however, like what they had witnessed outside while on their way over here. This was thick slime; the kind of slime you would not want making contact with any part of your body, at any time. Like back out on the platform, it was everywhere; the walls, the ceiling, the floor. If outside had smelled like rotten eggs, here, on the carriage’s inside, was like death—just the worst, most oppressive smell Jake had ever smelled. He suppressed a heave.
‘Holy crap,’ he said. ‘Looks like a damn frat party in here.’
‘Went through there, sir,’ said the pale man. He waved his gun in the direction of the train’s rear, where Jake was shocked to find the entire side of the carriage completely shorn off, leaving a gaping hole in the carriage’s side. Through the hole Jake could just make out a trail of faintly luminescent slime, leading off up the track into darkness.
‘And they’re in position?’ said Coleman suddenly from behind him. He was holding a radio to his mouth, a fierce frown wrinkling his brow. ‘Good. Have them make their way toward us. We’ll try to flush it this way.’ He saw Jake looking and smirked. ‘Providing that’s okay with you, of course?’
Jake shrugged. ‘Sure—why not? That was going to be my plan, anyway.’
Coleman scoffed. ‘I’ll bet.’ He cocked his gun and began tiptoeing his way through the slime toward the hole in the car’s side, a half a dozen gun-toting men at his rear.
Jake looked around at Eliza, sighing. ‘He doesn’t like me very much, does he?’
She shrugged. ‘Well, I guess you can’t blame him. Before you showed up, he was set to be next in line for branch-head.’
Jake blinked, surprised. Now that was an interesting development. ‘Really? Him?’ He shook his head. ‘But he’s so…’
‘Angry?’ She laughed. ‘I know, right? What’s with that?’
They followed Coleman and his men out through the hole in the carriage’s side, hopping down onto the tracks with a grunt, Moss keeping steady pace behind them. Their footfalls echoed loudly in the close confines of the subway tunnel, ricocheting off the walls around them in a manner that would have been pretty spooky had Jake not been surrounded by all those men and their enormous guns. They followed the light from their flashlights.
‘So,’ he said, turning to Eliza again. ‘How’d a girl like you end up in a job like this? I take it this wasn’t your first choice when it came to a career.’
This was something he had thought about a lot. Apart from the odd ditzy moment, Eliza had proven very capable and intelligent. He found it hard to believe she would have chosen a career in a field where things literally tried to eat your face off over something less scary and life-threatening—not that he was complaining, of course; she’d saved his life, hadn’t she? But he was very curious.
‘You’re right, actually,’ she said. ‘Originally, I wanted to be a historian. Went to university and everything—it’s where HDL first scouted me, where they scout most of their agents, in fact.’
‘You don’t say.’
‘I’ve always enjoyed learning about the past,’ she went on, ‘how different people’s lives were back then. The odd little facts—did you know Napoleon was once attacked by rabbits?’
‘Shut up.’
‘No, seriously. He had to flee in his coach. His enemies sung songs about it for years.’
‘The short guy?’ He shook his head. He just didn’t know what to say.
They continued on up the track, following the lights from the assault team’s guns—
Jake paused, his body going rigid.
Coleman’s group had stopped.
‘What?’ he asked. ‘What’s happening?’ He couldn’t see any Hell-beasts. Couldn’t see much of anything, in fact. He wondered how Churchy was doing.
Coleman raised his finger to his lips. ‘Shush—listen.’
Everybody went silent. Jake strained his ears. He couldn’t hear anything, though. Just the rushing of blood in his ears, underlined by the rapid beating of his heart. Gun-lights waved frantically about, illuminating pipes and track and stone walls thick with soot. But no monster.
Jake shook his head. ‘I don’t hear anything.’
Coleman whirled on him, scowling. ‘For the last time, would you please—?’
He fell instantly silent as something dropped from the sky directly between them. It hit the ground with a plop, made louder by the tunnel’s confined space.
They saw it at the same time, realization settling in instantly.
It was slime.
‘On the ceiling! cried Coleman.
Flashlights shot up to the tunnel’s domed roof—
And there it was; the Bloater. It hung from pipes on the tunnel’s ceiling; some huge, amorphous blob thing, big as a car, with muscular-looking arms and legs, each as thick as tree-trunks. In the poor light Jake could just make out a bulbous sack-thing protruding from its belly, on the end of which stood a thin, black appendage, vaguely insect-like. A string of thin bile ran from the tip, and looking up at it Jake realized, with no small amount of disgust, exactly where it was all the slime had come from.
Another length of slime plopped from the end of the Bloater-thing’s appendage.
It was like a starting pistol.
Before Jake could so much as cover his ears with his hands, the men opened fire.
Jake had never stood next to a gun as it had gone off before, let alone several of them, in a confined space, so had never taken into account the environmental effects of having large caliber weapons unload right next to your ears—which was a shame, because if he had, one thing was for sure, he most definitely would have brought some earmuffs.
He fell back and covered his ears as the world around him erupted in thunder.
In the staccato bursts of muzzle-flare Jake watched as the Bloater-thing dropped from the ceiling. It hit the ground with an earth-shattering thud—a thud Jake could feel in his very bones—before promptly rushing the men, thick, tree-trunk arms swinging. Huge holes opened all over its bulbous body as the men continued to fire, though it didn’t seem to notice—didn’t even slow down, in fact.
As the men continued to unload their weapons, the Bloater-thing lowered its head and charged, knocking several of them down like bowling pins and causing the others to have to dive out the way to avoid getting squished. Among them was Coleman, who went down hard on his side, barely managing to get out of
the Bloater-thing’s path in time to avoid getting turned into what would essentially be a human pancake.
‘Coleman!’ cried Jake.
The Bloater-thing turned to face him.
Oh, crap.
He took a step backwards on instinct, letting out a little yelp as his butt connected with the cold tunnel wall behind him. ‘Uh… guys?’
He looked around for help, but there was nobody. Moss was tending to Coleman. The soldier-dudes, those who hadn’t gotten smooshed, were still collecting themselves—and taking their sweet time about it, if you asked him.
The Bloater-thing ducked its head and barreled toward him—at a speed you’d have thought impossible for something of that size.
Jake froze.
He’d messed up. He had come down here of his own volition, despite all the warnings of how dangerous it would be, and now he was going to pay the price for his foolishness. All he’d wanted was to get a closer look at his supposed “enemy”. And now, it appeared, he was going to get it.
‘GUYS…’
He raised his hands, the Bloater-thing now only feet away—
Suddenly, Eliza was there.
As Jake stood paralyzed, she raised her gun, face unflinching as the car-sized Hell-monster bore down on her.
There was a boom, a blinding flash.
The Bloater-thing hit the ground like a felled tree, its head landing moments later.
When the echo died off, a moment of pregnant silence filled the tunnel.
‘Is everybody all right?’ said Eliza, lowering the gun. Smoke rose from the barrel in little wisps.
Jake blinked as reality returned. He began frantically patting down his body. He couldn’t believe he was still alive. ‘Does peeing yourself count?’
Just then, Coleman appeared, ferried against one of Moss’s broad shoulders. He had his hand on his side, a pained look on his face. ‘Broken rib, I think—I’ll survive.’
Jake turned back to the Bloater-thing. Up this close, he could see it was even more disgusting than he’d initially thought. Its fingers all fat and blubbery, like tumors. Its flesh was the texture of elbow-skin, with large and unsightly boils spread right across it. One thing was for sure, it certainly wouldn’t have won any beauty contests.
‘Jesus, look at it. That is one ugly Hell-beast, am I right?’ he said.
‘Don’t get too close,’ said Coleman. ‘We still don’t know if it’s—’
Jake waved him off. ‘Oh, relax, Coleman—besides, its head’s gone. How dangerous can it be?’
‘Jake, seriously—’
He groaned. ‘Look, it’s fine—see? Totally dead.’ He kicked it with his boot, just to prove it, causing the thing’s bloated body to jiggle horribly. ‘Absolutely, one-hundred percent—’
The Bloater-thing shot up on his tree-trunk legs, it’s proboscis-like appendage lunging at Jake’s throat—
Jake felt himself fly to the side as the walking mountain of man known as Moss shoved him out of the way.
There was a groan and a wet sound, like the sound you’d get stabbing a pencil into an apple.
When Jake looked around again, Moss was lying on his back on the ground, the Bloater-thing’s appendage sticking out of his shoulder, slime shooting out of the broken end and running down it like the world’s ugliest water feature.
‘Moss!’
Everybody opened fire.
For what felt like a very long time, the remaining assault guys, as well as Eliza and Coleman, pumped round after round into the Bloater-thing’s headless body, not stopping until all that was left was a bloodied pulp on the ground.
Jake went to Moss—
Coleman put up a hand, blocking him. ‘No. You’ve done enough.’
‘What? But I—’
‘But what? This is all your fault.’
Jake blinked. That felt a little unfair. ‘What? No, I… but I didn’t mean to—!’
Everyone was staring at them now. Jake was glad for the dim light, so nobody could see how red his face had gotten.
‘Your grandmother made a huge mistake naming you as her replacement,’ Coleman went on. ‘You’re reckless and immature. A liability. And now, just as I predicted, your recklessness has put this whole operation in jeopardy.’
‘Jesus, Coleman, take it easy…’ said Eliza from beside him. ‘It wasn’t Jake’s fault. You saw it. It was an accident.’
Coleman ignored her. ‘You think this is a game—but it’s not. This is serious. People’s lives are depending on you, Jake. And what do you do? You make jokes. Go on little whimsical detours. And this—’ he gestured over at Moss, now sitting upright on the floor, a cluster of assault guys standing around him, ‘—is the result. And you can bet the second we get back to HQ, I’m notifying the Board.’ He pointed a threatening finger at him, eyes blazing and furious. ‘You’re done.’
Before Jake could respond, Coleman suddenly stalked off, one hand still pressed to his side.
Jake watched him for as far as the light would allow.
Suddenly, being the boss didn’t seem like such a good thing anymore.
*
There was little talk on the way back to headquarters.
Jake sat in the limo’s back, Churchy on his lap, a distracted-looking Eliza just beside him. At some point, he heard a pitter-patter, and turning his gaze toward the window he saw it had started to rain—something he didn’t mind at all, because it felt like one of those times. In his utter disgust, Coleman had elected not to ride back with them, hitching a ride with one of the other agents instead—a decision Jake knew, even though he could have forced him otherwise, was probably for the best. And besides, he didn’t think he could have handled any more getting shouted at today.
Unfortunately, back at HQ was no better. People all up and down the corridor refused to meet his gaze as he slowly made his way toward his office, everyone suddenly too busy reading files, or looking at their phones—one guy even turning on the spot upon seeing him and walking the complete opposite direction. In some ways, Jake would have preferred if they’d all glared at him, maybe thrown eggs or something like how they do with politicians sometimes—at least then they would have had to acknowledge him.
Then he was standing outside his office, leaning against the catwalk railing as he stared up at the huge door that filled the room. It really was something; all that thick, solid steel. A huge hatch-wheel lay in the center of it, like what they had on submarine doors, or bank vaults. He wondered how strong it was—pretty strong, he guessed, if it could hold back the hoards of what he was still half-unsure may have been Hell.
‘Jake?’
He turned around to find Vogel standing behind him.
‘Oh—hi, Vogel. What’s up?’
Vogel joined him against the railing and let out a long breath. ‘So I hear Moss is going to be just fine. Turns out it was just a—how do you say? A flesh wound? He’s going to need a couple days off to recuperate while the stitches settle, of course, but he’ll be right as rain in no time—that’s something, hmm?’
‘Yeah. That’s great.’
Vogel stared at him for a moment, looking like he was about to say something. He turned to the Door instead. ‘See that?’ he said, nodding up at it. As if Jake could miss it. ‘Back when I first started, I’d come and stare at that door—sometimes for hours—wondering what lay on the other side, what kinds of awful things might be waiting just beyond it. I’d spend all my lunch breaks here just staring up at it and thinking—and lord knows, I wasn’t the only one.’ He seemed to hesitate a moment before speaking again. ‘A long time ago, before your grandmother started on here, there was… a man. His name was Filius Fawn.’
Jake blinked. ‘Filius Fawn?’ It just had that made-up-y quality to it. ‘For real? What was he, like a superhero or something?’
Vogel scoffed. ‘Hardly. He was branch-head, many years ago. A brilliant, brilliant man—one of the founders of this organization, as well as the man singularly responsible for the creation of
that door you see in front of you.’ He nodded across the room to what Jake was quickly coming to think of as the Hell-door. ‘But there is a terrible price for such brilliance. Over time, Filius changed. Little things at first; heightened aggression, an aversion to food. But then things escalated. He began to think he could hear voices whispering to him from the other side of the Door, voices telling him to do… things. Terrible, terrible things. You see, Jake, sometimes when you stare too long into darkness, darkness begins to stare back.’
They were both silent a moment before Jake turned back to him. ‘What happened to him? This Filius guy?’
All throughout HQ there were paintings of the many men and women who had played a role in the HDL’s inception—investors, world leaders, you name it. Hell, you could hardly move for them. But on not one of these paintings did he recall seeing a placard for a “Filius Fawn”.
Vogel shrugged. ‘That’s the big question, isn’t it? All we know is that in the height of his delusion, he hijacked the Command Center and barricaded himself inside with the intention of opening the Doorway and bringing the creatures on the other side through—or “uniting us”, as he put it. During the struggle, Filius was fatally wounded, ended up fleeing through the Doorway before staff could break through and shut it down again. It was, and remains, the single biggest security breach in the Company’s history, and as such, we do not like to talk about it.’ He gave a sour smile. ‘What with all we get to see in this job, people around here can be pretty superstitious.’
‘I’ll bet,’ said Jake. He considered the Door again. All of a sudden, he didn’t feel like looking at it anymore.
Vogel put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I understand you feel what happened today was your fault. But you have to remember this job comes with risks. Moss knew what the dangers would be before taking on his role as your protector. And besides, you’ve been branch-head here for, what, a day? There’re bound to be a few hiccups.’
‘I hardly call a man almost getting impaled to death a “hiccup”...’
‘True—but what I’m trying to say is that you’re still learning Jake. Give yourself time—and maybe don’t be too hard on yourself in the meanwhile, hmm?’ He offered Jake a brief smile, then left him with that, turning and strolling back down the catwalk in the opposite direction.
We Hunt the Night: (Tales from the Supernatural Frontline) (Imperium Book 1) Page 6
