Forever Man

by Brian Matthews

  Jack landed hard onto the ground, the air whooshing out of him.

  From outside the cave, Izzy heard a scream. It was Katie.

  Then, through the opening, the monster charged into the cave. One of its eyes was a charred black hole.

  Webber called out, his voiced heavy with pain: “Bartholomew! Kill him! Now!”

  The creature seemed to hesitate; maybe it remembered the pain Owens had inflicted on it before.

  In that moment, Izzy clawed over Jack and wrapped her hand around his gun. With an effort that she felt would break her, she brought her wounded arm around, gripped the gun with both hands. Pointed it at the monster. Slid her finger over Jack’s. Squeezed the trigger.

  The round caught the creature in the neck. Flesh and fur exploded.

  “Again,” said Owens, his voice urgent.

  Izzy fired again. The round blew half the creature’s shaggy head apart. Bone and blood splattered the cave wall. The monster’s left jaw came unhinged and hung loose, its tongue escaping between broken teeth. Then it fell wetly to the ground, its massive girth sending vibrations through the stone floor.

  Jack, his breath regained, abruptly convulsed. His hand splayed open. Izzy grabbed the gun.

  On the ground next to her, sweat streaming down his face, Webber lifted his gun. Izzy kicked, knocking Webber’s weapon aside.

  She brought Jack’s gun around.

  She’d learned there was the justice she’d always believed in, the one that lead her to be a cop. And then there was Justice—one she’d always known in her heart existed but had been afraid to embrace. That had changed.

  “This is for my daughter,” she said and fired.

  * * *

  Her round hit Webber in the chest, punching a hole through him the size of a baseball. She fired again. And again. Each shot made Webber’s body jerk like a marionette with a couple of strings missing. His chest disintegrated into a mass of crimson gore. He raised an arm, fingers twitching. Then it fell. The life drained from his eyes. His body sagged.

  Dead. Darryl Webber was finally dead.

  She ripped the tape from her ankles and stood. Adrenaline had reduced the gunshot wound in her side to a painful ache.

  “Izzy.”

  She turned. Bart Owens gestured toward Jack.

  The banker had stopped convulsing. He was lying on the ground next to Webber, trembling, the heels of his shoes drumming against the ground. His face was flushed, feverish. Sweat oozed from his pores. The muscles of his neck were corded. His eyes had rolled back until only the whites showed.

  But his skin—

  She blinked, not sure of what she was seeing. His skin was moving, shifting, as if bugs were crawling under it.

  Izzy frowned at Owens. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Get out of here. Fast.”

  “But—?”

  “Go,” he repeated. “Please, now. Take Kevin and your daughter. Hurry.”

  Jack’s jaw creaked open with a tortured sound like someone loosening a rusty lug nut. From his open mouth spilled a thin, reedy sound . His hand snaked out, grasped Webber’s leg.

  And the corpse twitched.

  “Right,” said Izzy, horrified. “Time to go.”

  She limped across the cave, her hand held over her gut.

  On his knees next to Natalie, Kevin seemed blissfully unaware of what was happening to his father. He continued to stroke Natalie’s forehead.

  Her daughter’s eyes were closed. She appeared asleep. But after days without water, lying on the cold ground with her wounded abdomen, she must be near death.

  “Hurry,” gasped Owens. He coughed. Droplets of blood flew from his mouth. “Get Kevin away from me.”

  Looking questioningly at the old man, Izzy stretched out her hand to Kevin and felt his tiny hand slip into hers.

  “Von Kliner’s,” wheezed Owens, “negates my abilities.”

  Izzy’s eyes widened. That’s why Jack could attack Owens and not get hurt.

  “The boy,” Owens said, his face coated with sweat. “Get him away…or I will die.”

  Oh, shit. Galvanized by his words, Izzy helped Kevin to his feet.

  “Katie.” Owens lifted a hand toward the cave opening. “Outside. With Gene.”

  Kneeling down, Izzy lifted a hand to Kevin’s face, cupped his chin, forced the boy to look at her.

  “Kevin, honey. You need to go outside. Katie’s there. Remember Katie? J.J.’s girlfriend? Please, go find Katie.” She gave him a gentle push toward the cave opening. “Go, Kevin. Go find Katie.”

  Kevin stopped after a few steps. He looked back at Izzy—then broke into a smile and scampered through the opening.

  With Kevin safely outside, Izzy threw a wary glance back at Jack. The man had managed to somehow drag Webber’s corpse over so that it lay partially on top of him. Still emitting its reedy hiss, Jack’s mouth had stretched to impossible dimensions: his chin rested on the middle of his chest. Just beneath the surface of his skin, his flesh continued to boil.

  Webber’s corpse twitched and shook like a man having a seizure.

  When Jack lifted one of Webber’s hands and stuffed it into his gaping maw, Izzy turned away, revulsion rising in her throat.

  Natalie lay unconscious on the floor. Izzy bent down, eased her arms under her daughter, and lifted. Somewhere in the back of her mind, her injuries shrieked at the effort. Her weakened left arm could barely support Nat.

  Holding her daughter for the first time in days, she whispered, “Time to go, honey.”

  As she struggled toward the cave opening, she heard Owens call her name. She stopped and turned her head toward the old man.

  “Hurry back,” he said. “I’m going to need your help.”

  Nodding, Izzy stumbled out of the cave.

  Chapter 37

  Locked inside his convulsing body, Jack’s mind wailed in terror.

  He was burning, his body an inferno, a living pyre. Incandescent, the heat consumed him. Muscle and sinew, blood and bone. He felt it all: every rupture, every blazing reformation, igniting his nerves.

  No! he screamed silently. What’s happening? It wasn’t supposed to be like this!

  Then he was gagging, his throat violated by something squirmy, like a sack of worms. Reflexively he retched, tried to clear the object from his airway—but more was shoved down his gullet, crammed until the passage stretched to accommodate the writhing mass.

  Choking and unable to breathe, his panicked heart raced faster. It strained against the confines of his chest, hammering until the muscle buckled under the pressure: with a harsh kick, it hesitated, stuttered for a few helpless, clinging beats.

  He knew his time had come.

  Your drawings, Kevin. I always loved them…and you.

  I’m sorry.

  And then Jack Sallinen died.

  For a long moment, nothing. Then his heart clenched. Relaxed. Clenched. Blood flowed. The gagging subsided—

  —and was replaced by hunger.

  His jaw gaped wider. Thick saliva oozed into the orifice, coating his burning membranes, cooling them, making them slick, slippery. His esophagus flexed, a rhythmic peristalsis, forcing more of the twitching mass into him.

  Gradually, he swallowed, though he still could barely breathe. Eventually, he ate. The burning pain faded until it was no more than an ache. And was replaced by noise. Harsh and caustic, like the tortured screams of a thousand—

  Be Nothings.

  Chew, swallow—savor. He couldn’t get enough.

  Noise was pain. And pain. Pain was power.

  The power he wanted. The power he demanded.

  The power he deserved.

  The noise grew. It called to him.

  He could not refuse.

  * * *

  Stumbling out of the cave with Nat in her arms, Izzy almost fell into snow. Only the sheer determination to save her daughter kept her from collapsing.

  Katie was kneeling not far from the cave’s entrance, the long fr
ame of Gene’s body lying prone on the ground beside her. She had a blood-soaked cloth pressed to his neck. Her face was knotted with worry.

  Kevin stood near Katie, bundled in his jacket, his small frame shivering from the cold.

  Izzy had to set Natalie down. Her wounded shoulder wouldn’t support her daughter’s weight any longer. She managed a few more halting steps toward Katie before she fell to her knees and laid Natalie on the ground.

  With her dislocated shoulder aching and the gunshot wound in her abdomen a searing tooth biting into her flesh, she crawled to Katie.

  “What happened?”

  Katie looked up. “Webber cut his throat. I’ve tried to stop the bleeding, but there’s so much.” Tears began rolling down her cheeks. “I think he’s going to die.”

  “Let me look,” Izzy said, lifting the cloth from Gene’s neck. She drew in a sharp breath. The wound was angry looking, the skin curling back from the cut. He was indeed bleeding heavily, but there was no tell-tale spurt of a severed artery. Perhaps Webber’s knife had skidded across Gene’s trachea, preventing the killing stroke. Regardless, he needed medical attention or he would almost certainly die.

  As would she and her daughter.

  Izzy shook her head. She didn’t make it this far to let them die in the woods.

  She removed Gene’s shoes and socks. She handed a sock to Katie and placed the other over Gene’s wound. It was far from perfect, but it was all she had.

  “Keep pressing on this. If it gets soaked with blood, use the other sock. I’ve got to get Owens. After that, we need to get everyone to a hospital.”

  “Natalie?” asked Katie, her hand now back on the make-shift bandage.

  “Alive,” Izzy replied. As she tried to stand, she cried out, her hand clutching her side.

  Katie frowned, then saw Izzy’s blood soaked shirt. Their eyes met. “Hurry.”

  Izzy nodded, then charged back into the cave.

  * * *

  Izzy pushed through the narrow opening and spilled into the cave.

  Several feet away, Jack Sallinen continued his morbid feast. A thick, clear fluid ran from his mouth. Obviously corrosive, it flowed over Webber’s body, liquefying him into a vile slurry. Even so, Jack’s belly was swollen, the fabric of his clothes ripped and frayed.

  She looked away, fighting the urge to vomit. Just get the old man, she thought, and get out of here.

  She hurried to Owens’s side. His eyes were closed. She touched his shoulder and he opened them.

  “Can you move?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Gene?”

  “Katie’s trying to keep him alive.”

  “Good. Help me up.”

  She extended a hand, grimacing as she pulled him to his feet. “Jack?”

  There was a strangled, gurgling noise. They both looked at Jack. The last of Webber’s body slid effortless down the former banker’s monstrous gullet. The man’s jaw creaked close with the same grating noise she’d heard earlier. Then his ponderous stomach heaved.

  “It’s not just him,” Owens said. “It’s both of them.”

  “But what’s happening?”

  “You don’t want to see. Let’s go.”

  Izzy took a step back, intending on moving out of Owens’s way, when her foot caught on something. She stumbled but managed to put a hand on the dirt wall to keep her balance. She looked down at what she’d almost tripped on.

  Covered in frost, it looked like a pile of dirty clothes. She remembered seeing them earlier. After giving them a cursory glance, she’d dismissed them as harmless. But now that she was closer, she saw mottled skin, a couple gnarled fingers, a milky eye, and—

  She bent down and picked something up. It was a torn and bloodied checked cap.

  “Chet Boardman.” She looked sadly at the heap on the floor. He’d been a harmless old drunk.

  Owens stretched a blood-coated hand to her. “There’s nothing we can do.”

  “But—”

  Before Izzy could finish, the ground began shaking, a deep rumbling that she felt in her bones. Like a charging locomotive, the tremors grew violent and loud. Cracks spread across the cave walls, loosening dirt and sticks and raining debris down on them.

  Then the ground shifted, knocking them off their feet. Owens managed to catch himself with his hands, sparing his body further injury. Izzy fell hard onto the stiff, mutilated corpse of Chet Boardman. Her hand punched through dead man’s bloated skin and sank wrist-deep into his putrefying organs.

  All around Jack Sallinen, the ground broke into fissures. From the openings emerged dozens of small snakes. Long and thin with bright viridian scales, they slithered over Jack, tore at him, opened up wounds—and slid into them.

  Then his body swelled.

  Horrified, Izzy didn’t register that Owens had pulled her to her feet until he shoved her toward the cave opening.

  “Out!” the old man yelled. Then he scooped up one of the lanterns and followed her. “Now!”

  Jack’s body swelled further. His taut skin rippled. The last shreds of his clothes fell away.

  At the cave opening, Owens stopped her. “Your gun!”

  “What?” Izzy didn’t think she had heard him right.

  “Do you have your gun?”

  From her pocket, she removed Jack’s revolver.

  “Hurry! Shoot the ceiling!”

  Beyond the remaining lantern, Jack’s body distended, bloating until he was so massive his flesh could not possibly bear the stresses. With a sound like ripping fabric, his entire skin disintegrated into bloody ribbons, revealing the wet fur and scales lurking beneath.

  Stunned, Izzy shook her head. “That can’t be.”

  “I need your help.” Owens faced the cave, eyes locked on the ceiling, hands raised and palms out. “Shoot the ceiling!”

  The creature that had once been Jack Sallinen and Darryl Webber scrambled to stand on all fours. Its broad, shaggy head swiveled toward her. Jack’s hateful eyes bore onto her. Black lips flapping, revealing teeth like knives. Then it threw its head back and howled. To Izzy, the dual-toned cry was eerily reminiscent of Jack and Webber—the two men who now seemed to comprise the creature.

  “Izzy!”

  When she heard Owens shout her name, Izzy shook herself out of her immobility. The old man had closed his eyes, a look of concentration on his brown face. His hands shook. He was trying to do something.

  Lifting the gun, Izzy slipped her finger onto the trigger.

  Above her, cracks spanned the ceiling. Dirt streamed down from the seams, weakening the integrity of the structure: large sections of the cave were starting to crumble.

  A dozen feet away, the creature crouched, thick muscles bunching, its malevolent glare fixed on her.

  As the creature leapt, Izzy fired—and kept firing until the gun was empty.

  Lead slugs slammed into the ceiling. The impacts should have had little effect. She was surprised when they shattered the cave’s integrity. Like a dam under too much pressure, the patchwork of cracks exploded, releasing a deluge of dirt into the small space.

  The creature was still in the air when the earthen flood hit, driving it to the ground. Snarling with rage, its front talons dug in, found purchase on the ground. But the heavy flow of debris and dirt smashed into it, burying it.

  Izzy felt a hand on her arm.

  Owens gestured to the cave’s exit.

  Nodding, Izzy turned to leave. With Owens pushing her on, she raced through the opening.

  Just as they stumbled into the moonlit glade, Izzy heard the creature scream, a sound so full of rage that it made her want to weep at the fate of the two men trapped within it.

  And then the cave collapsed, burying everything inside under tons of rock.

  Chapter 38

  Izzy sat crossed-legged on the damp ground. Her daughter huddled next to her, wrapped in the jacket Owens had offered to help contain what little warmth she had left. Natalie had lapsed back into unconsciousness since being brought ou
t of the cave. The wound in her side was infected. She was dehydrated and weak from starvation. Her lips were cracked, the flesh under her eyes bruised. Her eyes raced beneath their lids.

  Natalie needed a hospital, as did Gene.

  Not that Izzy didn’t need one, too. Her left arm hung uselessly at her side, the shoulder joint still out of its socket, not to mention the ankle she’d twisted less than an hour ago. And she’d been shot twice. One injury was minor, just some torn skin and muscle from where the bullet had grazed her. The wound in her side, where Jack had shot her a second time, throbbed with each beat of her heart. Fortunately, the round had entered at a shallow angle and seemed to have missed any major organs. It hurt like nothing she’d experienced before, but as long as she wasn’t going to die, she’d deal with the pain.

  The irony wasn’t lost on Izzy that she and her daughter now suffered similar wounds.

  Owens stood next to Izzy. After emerging from the cave, he had rushed over to Gene and helped Katie tend to the man. It meant coming near Kevin, who would not leave Katie’s side, but he wasn’t near the boy long enough to threaten his healing.

  “What did you do back there?” Izzy asked Owens. “In the cave? There’s no way bullets would bring down a cave like that.”

  Owens gave her an uncomfortable look. “Remember when you asked if there was anything else I could ‘do?’ My answer wasn’t entirely honest.” He turned his head and looked back at the cave. “I was redistributing the weight of the earth in there. I needed the bullets to break apart the surface and start the collapse.”

  “But that’s—?”

  “Yes, I know. Impossible. I did the same thing with the gun your husband pulled on me. Made it too heavy for him to lift.” As he spoke, he scanned the glade, his eyes fixing on the tree line opposite them.

  Izzy shook her head. This was too much information for her to process right now. There were other, more important matters at hand.