Whispers in the Night

by James Hunt

  Heart in her throat again, Kara approached the final door. She positioned herself by the opening, rifle up, her mouth dry.

  Ben grabbed the handle, his fingers curling over the lever, and locked eyes with Kara. He nodded. She nodded. The pair braced, and Ben swung the door open.

  Empty.

  “No,” Kara said, whispering as she stepped into the empty office. “He has to be here.”

  Ben remained by the door. “Kara, we need to go.”

  “He should have been here, I—I was sure of it.” Kara spun in circles, searching around the towers of boxes that reached the ceiling, growing more and more frustrated the longer she remained in the room.

  “Kara, we need—”

  The scream echoed from far off, but it was loud enough to be distinguished as a cry of pain. Every head turned toward the noise, but while Ben and the others remained frozen in their places, Kara stepped past them down the hall. It was Terry. It had to be.

  Kara moved forward, Ben unable to stop her as she was too quick. The screams grew louder as she neared the intersection. It was coming from even deeper in the building, farther down the concrete halls, illuminated by those fluorescent lights, causing her skin to glow eerily.

  A few words intermixed between the screams, but this time there was no cross section. The hallway ended, forcing Kara and the others left, again sending them deeper into the belly of the beast.

  Another scream. Louder. More painful.

  Kara hastened her pace. Her brother whispered angrily for her to slow down, becoming loud enough to give away their position, but she didn’t stop. She was too close to it now. So close that she could practically taste it.

  She needed to get to Terry Holloway before it was too late. She needed to get to him before there wasn’t anything left to save.

  The screams coming from behind one of the doors up ahead was so painful it brought tears to Kara’s eyes. But they were tears of anger, born from the hatred of needless suffering brought on by those with the power to do so.

  Kara had enough of those people, and she didn’t bother waiting for Ben to get in position before she reached for the door herself. But performing the motion herself cost her time. It was only a few seconds, but in moments of life and death, those few seconds were precious.

  The door flung open, and Kara saw a man in a chair, naked, bound, beaten and bloody. Another man stood by him, a smug smirk on his face that quickly receded into shock when he realized that Kara was not one of his buddies coming to relieve him.

  And those few seconds where Kara had to readjust her hands on the weapon to get a good shot were lost. The brute beating the naked man senseless charged forward, knocking Kara backwards and into the hallway, her gunshot missing wildly as it sailed into the ceiling.

  A dull thud from the man’s shoulder knocking into her chest preceded a sharp pain that ran the length of her spine and sent needles into the back of her skull as she landed on the concrete floor.

  Those fluorescent lights in the ceiling blinded her, and a quick jab to her side reminded her of the man on top of her.

  Another gunshot, this one from someone else, but the hallway echoed the bang so loudly that she couldn’t tell where it came from. Immediately, the man who had been so lively and squirming on top of her went limp and then slid off.

  “Kara? Kara!” Ben’s silhouette appeared above her. He was worried. She was glad to see that he was worried. Sometimes she wondered if he cared at all. “Are you all right?”

  Kara tried to say “My head,” but she wasn’t sure what came out.

  Ben looked away, his head on a swivel. He was scared now. It had been a long time since she’d seen him scared. “I need to get you up, okay? I need to get you out of here.”

  Kara understood, but she couldn’t move, and Ben had to lift her up by himself. But it wasn’t hard for him. He was strong. She’d forgotten how strong he was.

  “Get him and let’s go!” Ben turned back, Kara in his arms, moving quickly down the hall. There was other shouting, other noises. But the world faded to black before she heard the shouts of the men that chased them.

  The longer that Liz sat idle in the truck, the worse her anxiety became. She kept her eyes glued to the dark sky, wondering if she had somehow missed the flare and Kara and the others were stuck and in trouble. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, wringing it like a wet rag.

  She should have gone with them. She should have been there when they got her dad out.

  But what if they had been caught? What if they were being tortured and held just like her father?

  Kara glanced at the keys in the ignition. She wanted to turn it. Start the truck. Speed ahead and ram down the closest door and get them out. But then their getaway car would be ruined, and they’d all be stuck.

  Liz gritted her teeth and groaned in frustration, and she placed her forehead on the crest of the steering wheel. “Stupid. So, fucking stupid.”

  With her head down, she only saw the flicker of color because of the pitch-black darkness that surrounded her. She quickly looked up, spotting the flare directly in front of her, arching high against the night sky.

  “Shit.” Liz turned the key in the ignition, shifted into drive, and slammed the accelerator to the floor, sending two columns of sand backward as she rocketed forward.

  Liz could barely keep both hands on the wheel, and the truck’s engine revved sporadically from the harsh bumps along the sand as the truck bobbed up and down, tossing Liz about in the cabin. She tried to maintain a steady speed, but the terrain made it difficult.

  If she flicked on the headlights, she would better see the obstacles in her path, but she didn’t want to give away her position.

  The truck hit a harsh divot in the sand, dipping it low very quickly, and Liz was lifted from her seat as it bucked up and her head smacked against the ceiling. When she landed back on the seat, the motion caused her to jerk the wheel hard to the right, slamming her into the door as the truck turned at a harsh angle.

  Liz quickly corrected, straightening the wheel while she bounced inside the truck cabin like a ball. But the quick turn and correction had left her disoriented, losing herself in the darkness. She glanced up, and the flare vanished. “Shit.” She smacked the wheel and hit the brakes.

  The truck vibrated as it idled, and Liz leaned forward, eyes wide as she scanned the horizon, searching for the rescue party.

  “Where are you? Where are you? C’mon.” Liz bounced her leg nervously, waiting for any sign, any movement in the darkness. “C’mon—”

  Gunfire. On the left. Liz turned the wheel, flooring the accelerator, and headed toward the danger. The combination of the gunfire and the vibrations from the truck transformed her body into a rattling pile of bones.

  Her hands and muscles ached from keeping the wheel steady, but she found that once she passed a certain speed, the bouncing leveled out because of the vehicle’s pace.

  She kept her eyes peeled for any sign of them. Sweat broke out over her body and beneath her palms, causing the wheel to slip in her grip. Her mouth was dry, her heart rate was elevated, and the only breaths that she was able to inhale were short gasps in between the bumps of the desert.

  Eventually, a cluster of figures took shape in the darkness, and she flashed her lights once, seeing two people carrying individuals, all of them sprinting toward her, chased by gunfire.

  “Oh my god,” Liz said.

  “Turn around!” The voice screamed, cut short by gunfire. “Turn the truck around!”

  Liz turned the wheel hard and hit the accelerator, nearly flipping the truck from the sudden burst of speed and harsh angle, but she slammed on the brakes and then turned around.

  A body was placed into the back seat, followed by another, and Liz screamed in horror at the sight of her father. “Dad!”

  Kara’s brother climbed into the passenger seat, smacking the dash hurriedly. “Go! Go! Go!”

  Between the condition of her father and Ben’s franti
c excitement, Liz could barely remember which of the pedals was the gas and brake, but when she pressed her foot down, the truck rocketed forward. And thank god she was already facing the way she came in because she could only drive straight as she gripped the wheel, arms rigid as steel.

  “Keep the lights off!” Ben said, facing behind them. “Just get back to the highway!”

  More gunfire erupted behind them, and Liz jumped from the faint metallic thump of bullets against the truck.

  The scream that clawed out of her throat wasn’t planned, and between the gunfire and the roar of the truck’s engine, she didn’t think it was heard.

  “Just keep going,” Ben said. “Don’t stop!”

  “O-Okay!” Liz nodded quickly, tears streaming down her face.

  The added weight of the fighters in the truck bed helped weigh the vehicle down for a smoother ride, making their hastened speed less jarring across the bumpy landscape. But it didn’t lessen the fear that funneled its way through her veins and twisted her stomach into a tight knot.

  Despite the chaos that surrounded her, Liz couldn’t rid herself of the image of her father’s body in the truck bed. The idea that she was carrying his corpse sickened her.

  “Hey,” Ben said, his voice slightly gentler. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know where we are!” Liz answered.

  “Just keep going straight, and keep the headlights off,” Ben answered. “And don’t slow down—”

  Gunfire drowned out Ben’s voice, and Liz squinted from the bright flash of lights that reflected in the mirrors of the truck.

  A pair of headlights trailed them, running down their quarry like a lone wolf, bullets and guns in lieu of snapping jaws and razor-sharp claws.

  “Don’t stop! Keep going!” Ben said.

  Liz maintained her speed, the accelerator still on the floor, her shoulders and arms aching from keeping the jerky wheel steady. She didn’t dare adjust her grip on the wheel and pushed through the aching pain in her fingers, which felt like they would break off at any moment.

  Bullets zipped past, the fighters in the back lying flat in the truck bed to avoid the gunfire.

  “We need to find the road!” Liz said, the truck rattling from another big divot.

  “Turn on the lights!” Ben said.

  Liz momentarily lifted her hand from the wheel and flicked on the headlights. The desert came into full view, and Liz squinted from the sudden change in brightness.

  Ben reached over and flicked on the high beams, which dispelled more of the darkness.

  Liz shook her head. “I don’t see it!”

  “Just keep us moving forward!” Ben said.

  Liz glanced into the rearview mirror, the SUV growing closer. She checked the dashboard, the speedometer wiggling between seventy and seventy-five miles per hour. The desert-fitted vehicle on her tail must have been pushing close to eighty.

  And then, up ahead, at the very outskirts of the high beam’s light, she saw a flash along the ground. She leaned forward, squinting.

  More gunfire. More screams.

  Liz twisted the steering wheel in her hands, nearly standing up now as she tried to find the same shimmer as before. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!”

  Another flash. Then another. Soon Liz was able to make out the reflections ahead, and she screamed in triumph. “I found it! The road! The reflectors on the highway!” She dropped down to her seat, laughing in a euphoric daze even while the threat of their pursuers loomed close behind.

  “Take a right onto the road once you get there,” Ben shouted. “That’ll take you back toward the rez. They won’t follow us onto it.”

  But when Liz stole another quick glance in the rearview, she wasn’t sure if they’d have enough time. The security team had double-timed their efforts, and they were close enough for Liz to see parts of the team hanging out the side of the windows with their rifles.

  The road grew closer, fifty yards out, then forty, thirty. Their pursuers kept pace. Liz tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her arms so stiff they might break off. The truck hit the embankment leading up to the road, the front tires bouncing up and then landing hard on the asphalt.

  The collision cost Liz’s grip and the wheel spun from her hands. She lost control, the vehicle swerving back and forth. In her haste to correct the path, she eased off the gas, which allowed their pursuer to catch up.

  The vehicle smashed into the truck’s tailgate, jolting it forward and nearly sending Liz through the windshield. Gunfire. Shattered glass. Liz ducked but kept enough of her wits to slam the accelerator, the truck able to gain more traction now that it was on the road. But with her head dipped below the dash, Liz drove blindly, swerving across the two-lane highway.

  Pushing past the fear, Liz poked her head up. The windshield was cracked, distorting her view. No. Not the windshield. They were tears distorting her view.

  The speedometer ticked up to sixty, then seventy, eighty miles per hour. With the back window shattered, her hair whipped around in violent movements, at times blocking her vision. But it wasn’t until a hand grabbed her shoulder and squeezed tight that it broke the tunnel vision of the road ahead.

  “Liz!”

  Through the whipping strands of Liz’s hair, she turned and saw the fragmented glimpses of Ben’s face, and behind her, the fading headlights of their pursuers on the road.

  “Are you all right?” Ben asked.

  Liz wasn’t sure how long it took for her to answer after Ben had asked the question, but when she finally opened her mouth to speak, she could only gasp in confusion.

  “Liz?” Ben asked.

  Liz nodded, then swallowed, her throat so dry it felt like a ball of sandpaper was traveling down her throat.

  “Do you remember how to get to the reservation?” Ben asked. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the cool night air, and she couldn’t stop grimacing.

  “I-I don’t know,” Liz answered. “My dad… He needs help.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Ben said. “Keep heading down this road, and when it forks, take a right. You’ll follow that road until you see the sign for the rez. Just keep driving.”

  “Kara?” Liz asked, and then she caught a good look at the back of the truck. People were crying, some of them even screaming, as they hunched over unmoving bodies in the truck bed. And then Liz realized what was happening. “Oh my god.”

  “Hey!” Ben shouted, pulling Liz’s attention back to him. “You have to keep driving, okay? You have to keep moving. Don’t stop, for anything. Just keep driving.”

  Liz nodded, not looking behind her, and focusing only on the fact that she needed to get her father help. She needed to get Kara help. And the only way to do that was to drive. Survive, and drive.

  73

  The smell, like the pain, never faded, and even though Amy hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday, the putrid stench of her own burning flesh triggered fresh vomit. This place burned your innards as much as it did your exterior. She had dared only look at her arm once, noting the blackened and charred flesh of her body.

  The pain was so intense that she was forced to crawl forward, the aimless motion her only defense against the torture of being burned alive, again and again and again.

  Amy dreaded the inevitable reincarnation of her body, only to be transformed into blackened ash, her muscles dripping from her body like grease from a cooked duck.

  She crawled along the ground, her movement slow and directionless, the simple act of motion providing a limited distraction from the pain. She passed over a crack and caught the putrid scent of sulfur. She coughed and hacked, and the stench heaved more vomit from her stomach. She collapsed and shut her eyes, breathing in tiny gasps of air, the ground dissolving what was left of her body. She would die, only to be reborn and suffer again.

  A breath of air, cool and crisp, suddenly breathed life into her. Amy popped her eyes open and caught sight of the new flesh spreading over her fingers. The new growth replaced the charred and blacke
ned appendages.

  Naked, Amy no longer had any clothes to protect herself, and she walked quickly across the scalding hot surface.

  The heat peeled the fresh flesh from the bottom of Amy’s foot, but she didn’t dare look at the trail of bloody footprints. She focused all of her strength and determination on staying upright, but it was a losing game. She tried to remember her family to help keep her strong, but her mind was failing her as much as her body.

  After so many times of being raked through the coals, Amy struggled to remember her daughters’ laughter, or the gentle touch of her husband. Unlike her physical body, which was rejuvenated once it reached the brink of death, her mind remained in a state of decay.

  Occasionally, Amy was able to concentrate long enough to conjure a memory of Liz or Maisie, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving nothing more than the faint imprint of the images that had made up her life as a mother.

  It was a new form of torture from this world, and it was akin to being burned from the inside out.

  “I can’t,” Amy said, whispering to herself as she stumbled forward, her path serpentine as her knees started to buckle. “It has to stop.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she lifted her face toward the crimson sky, and just when she was about to collapse, a whisper tickled her ear.

  The voice was familiar but hard to hear. However, the longer she walked, the clearer and louder the voice became until finally—

  “Mommy?”

  At first Amy kept her head down, thinking that it was another vision, another demon in the form of her family which had come to torture her with images of their deaths.

  “Mommy, can you hear me?”

  But there was something different about this voice. There was an innocent sincerity to it that the demon imposters hadn’t been able to replicate.

  “Stop it.” Amy shook her head and clenched her jaw. It wasn’t possible. If she could hear Maisie, that meant that her daughter was really here, and she had done too much, sacrificed too much, for that to have happened.