Skinners: Blood Blade

by Marcus Pelegrimas

  “Paige!” Cole shouted. “We need to get out of here!”

  But Paige had problems of her own. She and Racquel had put their differences aside for the moment so they could take in the sight of the gnarled, drooling figure loping toward the Chevy. As the thing walked, it also seemed to grow until it was almost double the size of a normal man. After taking a few more steps, it leaned forward and used one hand against the cement to support his upper body. Its head remained low and hung to one side. When it tried to get a better look at the car in front of him, the lopsided thing winced and let out a pained groan. Putrid rags hung off its body as if they’d grown there and partially rotted away. Matted hair sprouting from patches of his skin was almost long enough to cover him where his tattered clothes couldn’t reach.

  “Henry!” the bald man shouted. “Catch!” With that, he lifted Wendy’s limp body off the ground and tossed it to the thing the way he might toss scraps to a dog.

  Thick, jagged fingernails scraped against the pavement as Henry loped toward the body. His bare feet slapped against the street inches from Wendy’s half-naked body and he began clawing at her chest. “Golden hair,” he grunted. “And the other. Dark hair. Want you both.” Fluid sprayed from Wendy’s ravaged chest cavity as Henry kept tearing her open. The stuff was a mix of dark red and oily black.

  Paige drew a .45 pistol from the holster under her jacket, and the Latina beside her drew a smaller gun from a little pouch strapped around her waist. Both women pulled their triggers at the same time, sending their rounds into Henry’s thick, dirty hide.

  Cole wanted to help, but programming video games hadn’t exactly put him into the habit of walking around with a gun strapped beneath his arm. Hoping that he might find another weapon somewhere in the car, he reached for the first possible hiding spot he could think of. As his fingers were fumbling with the latch of the glove compartment, another set of thin, bony fingers tapped on the window a few inches from his face. The bald man stared at him with a set of dark green eyes that showed the slightest hint of black threads wrapping around them from the inside of their sockets. He smiled widely to show just how much of Wendy’s blood was smeared upon his lips and teeth.

  “You want to come out now, Skinner?” the man on the other side of Cole’s window asked. “Or should I come in there after you?”

  Feeling every muscle in his body tense, Cole leaned toward the open driver’s door and shouted, “Paige! Let’s go!”

  Paige had already emptied her clip into Henry and was replacing it with a fresh one. She fired another two rounds into Henry’s shoulder and side, only to see a few shreds of Henry’s clothing and the upper layers of skin disintegrate on impact. She might as well have been shooting at a side of thoroughly frozen beef.

  If Henry even felt the bullets hitting him, he gave no sign. He flailed and convulsed on top of Wendy in a perverse set of motions, but wasn’t invading her in the most obvious way. Rather than commit such a recognizable sin, he was scraping at her chest with his jagged fingernails. His hands, slick with the blackened fluid of her blood, moved quickly enough to send a gory spray through the air. Henry was digging into the woman’s chest the way a dog would dig into the earth.

  After Wendy’s ribs had been pulled apart, he struggled to widen the terrible breach. The deeper his hands scraped within her, the faster Henry’s arms flailed. As she lost the strength to hold her head up, Wendy let out a gasp and allowed her eyes to wander amid the stars above her.

  “Get in the car,” Paige said to Racquel.

  Once Henry had ripped away the last layer separating him from his prize, he stopped and gazed down into the hole he’d made, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. Although his face was vaguely human, the way it swayed loosely at the end of his neck made the sight completely alien. It only got worse when he reached into the savaged chest cavity and pulled out something that looked like a black eel. Dozens of thin black tendrils reached desperately into the blond woman, causing her to twitch and squirm as they fought to pull the rest of its slimy black mass into her. Unable to extract the black eel thing completely, Henry leaned down and sank his teeth into the biggest section. As soon as they punctured the filmy skin, a greasy liquid rushed down his chin and into his mouth.

  Although she’d been ready to fight Paige a little while ago, Racquel accepted her invitation now by jumping into the backseat of the car.

  As soon Racquel’s backside hit the upholstery, Paige jumped behind the wheel and slammed the door shut. “Watch yourself, Cole,” she said as she gunned the engine.

  Cole looked through his window to find the bald man reaching out for him with hands that were like skeletal claws wrapped in smooth, pale leather gloves. When the car sped away, the man leaned forward and allowed his nails to scrape noisily against the glass. Straining to get one more look, Cole was able to see the figure casually wave back at him. “What in the hell was that?” he hollered.

  “That’s Misonyk!” Racquel shouted as she stabbed her finger toward Cole’s window. “That’s him. Oh my God, get out of here!”

  “Who the hell is Misonyk?” Cole asked.

  “Meeshonyick,” Racquel corrected. When she pronounced the name, it wrapped around her tongue and made her voice drop to an intimate purr.

  “I don’t care who he is or how you say it!” Paige shouted. Hooking her thumb toward Henry, she snapped, “What was that?”

  But Racquel wasn’t able to answer any of the questions. Her face had lost its color, which made the black lines beneath her skin stand out even more. As if reacting to the chaos around her, the lines retracted beneath the part of her that was covered by her shirt.

  Paige gripped the steering wheel in one hand and took a corner almost fast enough to put the rusted Cavalier onto two wheels. Ignoring Racquel’s swearing and Cole’s involuntary, somewhat girlish yelp, she handed her pistol to him and said, “There’s fresh clips in the glove compartment, Cole. Can you reload this?”

  Desperate to rebuild the dignity he’d just lost, he grabbed the gun and flipped open the glove compartment. “Yeah. I can do that, no problem.”

  “Good, because that thing with the appetite is coming after us.”

  Both Cole and Racquel twisted around to look out the back window. Sure enough, Henry was bounding down the street behind them, closing his distance from the car several yards at a time.

  “Start talking, Racquel,” Paige snapped. “What is that thing?”

  Sitting upright and straightening her top and skirt, Racquel slid back into her street persona. She showed Paige a bratty scowl and asked, “Why should I tell you anything? Just who the hell are you?”

  “I’m the one taking over Gerald’s territory, and your friend should’ve known better than to feed in public. If that blond bitch hadn’t already been torn apart, you know damn well I’d be putting her down myself!”

  Although Cole was completely lost in the conversation, he wasn’t about to turn his back on Racquel for long. Looking up every couple of seconds from what he was doing, he could see the Latina twitch at the sound of a solid impact behind the car. Racquel didn’t even look behind her to see what had hit the cement in the Chevy’s wake. As soon as Henry landed close enough for Cole to make out the slick black ooze hanging from his chin, the Chevy was thrown into a sharp turn and the engine roared toward the upper limit of its performance.

  “That thing’s Henry,” Racquel said.

  Struggling to get control after the maneuver she’d just performed, Paige asked, “What the hell is Henry?”

  Racquel sank down into her seat. “I don’t know what he is, but most of us didn’t even think he was real. Wendy used to talk about him. She said…” As much as she tried to fight it, Racquel couldn’t keep herself from wincing before her words stuck in the back of her throat. She swung her hand toward the back window and then pulled it back again when Henry landed behind the speeding car and took a swipe at the Chevy’s bumper. Calcified nails screeched against rusted metal before the car
was once again out of his reach.

  Cole held the gun out toward Paige and said, “Here you go. I think it’s ready.”

  “Good,” Paige replied as she twisted the wheel to take another corner, scattering the group of kids who had been standing there. “Now do me a favor and shoot that thing.”

  Cole rolled down the window and stuck his arm out before pulling it back in again. He shifted in his seat and started to aim out the window but caught a very surprised glance from a bar they were driving past. He tried shifting again, nearly dropped the gun, then fell back into his seat with a frustrated grunt. As much as he wanted to lean out the window and fire away, he grudgingly had to admit it looked a hell of a lot easier in the movies.

  “So, what about Wendy?” Paige asked as she looked at Racquel in the rearview mirror.

  Racquel pulled in a breath to steady herself. “She’s been listening to Misonyk and preaching all his bullshit to me and anyone else who’d listen.”

  “Okay, tell me about this Misonyk,” Paige said.

  “Gerald knew about him,” Racquel replied. Didn’t he tell you?”

  “No. What’s Misonyk been spreading around? And will you shoot already, Cole? That thing already took my bumper off!”

  “I’m trying! I don’t do this every day, you know!”

  “Fine,” Paige snarled. “Both of you hold on.” With that, she blew past an expensive looking SUV and gunned her engine down a long stretch of road. She had to blaze through a few red lights along the way, but it was late enough at night and in a bad enough neighborhood for there to be a minimum of other cars around. The only police car Cole spotted was parked outside a Jack in the Box four blocks ago.

  Paige stared at the road intently, pulled the wheel to the left and slammed on her brakes. She only needed to watch the rearview mirror for a few more seconds before Henry landed on the street with a loud thump and began slamming his hands against the trunk. Throwing the car into Reverse, she stepped on the gas and drove the Chevy right into Henry’s gut. She kept the car moving until she pinned him against a telephone pole. “There,” she said as she looked over to Cole. “Easy enough target for ya?”

  Twisting around to lean out the window, he gripped the gun with both hands and took aim. Henry’s lower body was crushed between the pole and the back end of the Cavalier, but he was still squirming and slapping his hands against the trunk as if he wasn’t so much hurt by the impact as confused that he couldn’t move. Cole fired and missed his first few rounds. Cars screeched to a stop somewhere nearby and sirens wailed in the distance. There wasn’t a lot of time before more people would be dragged into this mess, and he knew it would be better for the cops to find a bizarre corpse than a live, heart-eating freak. He let a few more bullets fly and saw them hit their mark amid a fine spray of dirty hair and a hint of blood.

  Gritting his teeth as he pulled the trigger again, Cole shook his head and fired his last few rounds. “This isn’t doing much,” he said. “I don’t even think I’m hurting it.”

  The moment his gun was empty, Paige drove the Chevy forward a few feet, slammed it into Reverse and backed into Henry again. The impact rocked everyone inside. Henry moaned and wailed, but wasn’t losing steam.

  Paige shook her head, threw the car into Drive and sped away. Looking into the rearview mirror, she nodded quickly and said, “I think that shook him up a bit.”

  Cole dropped back into his seat beside her and opened the glove compartment angrily. “Next time, tell me before you do that! I was still hanging out the goddamn window!”

  “Next time try aiming for the head!” she replied. “I thought you were the big video-game freak. Isn’t that rule number one when shooting at something?”

  As much as Cole wanted to shout back at her, he didn’t have much to say. Paige was right about rule number one. He reloaded the pistol, while shifting his focus between several different spots. Racquel was curled up in the backseat with her arms over her head. Paige was speeding toward a ramp that would take her onto I–94. And most important, Henry was still shaking off the gunshots and impacts from the Chevy when Cole lost sight of him.

  “Keep talking, Racquel,” Paige said in a miraculously calm voice. “What’s Misonyk been spreading around and what the hell is that Henry thing?”

  Racquel sat up again, but didn’t even try to regain her composure. Instead, she rubbed her face with trembling hands and replied, “I need a drink, but nowhere around here.”

  “Where should I go?”

  “Try Oak Lawn. The only Nymar out there keeps to himself and won’t have anything to do with Misonyk or anyone who’d listen to him. Plus, he runs a pizza place and it’s open all night.”

  “Thank God,” Cole said. “I thought it’d be forever until we got some food.”

  Paige smirked at him and dug her phone from her pocket. “I still want to meet up with Daniels, but he should be able to meet us for pizza. What’s the address, Racquel?”

  “Are you talkin’ about that little guy from Schaumburg?” Racquel asked.

  Paige looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Yeah.”

  “He used to be one of Wendy’s regulars, but he ain’t been in town for weeks. A lot of Nymar left after Misonyk showed up, so he’s probably one of them.”

  As if on cue, Paige received a disconnect message from the number she’d dialed. “Great,” she muttered as she snapped her phone shut. “That’s just great.”

  Cole looked at her with concern etched deeply into his face. “We’re still going for pizza, though, right?”

  Chapter 9

  The place was called DiGuido’s, and it was a little family-style restaurant on a quiet street amid several drugstores and a few funeral parlors. Cole didn’t pay complete attention to where they were going, since he’d been more concerned with being chased by the twisted abomination that they left plastered against a post. When Paige pulled to a stop in front of the pizza place, he was hesitant to leave the car. Once scents from the nearby kitchen drifted into his nose, however, he couldn’t get into DiGuido’s fast enough.

  Although DiGuido’s didn’t appear to be open for business, the front door offered no resistance, and the unusual party of three made their way to a booth against a wall of fake wine bottles. The lighting was dim. The tables were just a bit dirty, and the music sounded as if it never strayed from the Rat Pack’s greatest hits. Paige and Cole slid into one side of the booth, while Racquel slid into the other.

  A perturbed man with a greasy shirt and an even greasier apron around his waist walked up to the booth. The moment he got a look at the black markings on Racquel’s neck and wrists, he lightened up a bit and asked, “What do youse guys want?”

  Since Racquel waved her hand to pass, and Paige seemed slow on the draw, Cole jumped in and replied, “How about a large sausage and mushroom?”

  “No fungus,” Paige said.

  “Fine,” Cole said. “Sausage and pepperoni. And black olives! How about black olives, too?”

  The guy in the greasy apron nodded and turned his back to the booth. Cole was about to shout a request for garlic bread but was distracted by the sight of the black markings crawling up the back of the guy’s neck. But feeling better just knowing food was on the way, he asked, “All right, so who’s going to start?”

  “I can’t stay long,” Racquel said. “Henry is supposed to be able to sniff out a Nymar from miles away.”

  “What’s a—” Cole started to ask, but was cut short when Paige’s raised a hand.

  “Who’s Misonyk and what’s he been telling you?” she asked.

  Racquel sighed like a teenage girl cornered into a sex talk with her mother. Rolling her eyes, she muttered, “Misonyk’s been in town for a few months. He laid low for a while, but then word spread about how he’s been preaching to everyone how they could gain power from drinking souls.”

  “Drinking souls?” Paige asked.

  “Yeah. Draining people dry instead of doing things the normal way. I don’t mean j
ust killing them, either. I mean drinking them dry. He’s all about controlling minds, and says we can all hear each other’s thoughts if we juice up by killing as many humans as we can. And before you ask, he knows about Skinners, too. He just don’t give a rat’s ass about your rules. Some Nymar think he’s loco and just trying to get big in Chicago. Others think he’s God or some shit.”

  “What do you think?” Paige asked. She had to wait to get her answer, because Greasy Apron came back to set a pitcher of cola on the table along with three red plastic cups. He’d never asked about a drink order and didn’t seem to care about one, since he turned and walked away.

  Racquel took one of the cups and poured some cola from the pitcher. “I know he’s loco, but I also know he’s not just all about ruling Chicago. He ain’t even from here.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Wendy told me. She’s been hangin’ with Misonyk for a while and told me he comes and goes from somewhere up in Wisconsin. What the hell a guy like that would want in Wisconsin, I do not know.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Yeah,” Racquel said with an offended snap of her head. “She told me he dragged her ass all the way up to some old house up there so he could infeed offa her along the way. I told her she wouldn’t come back from there, but she went along anyway. She always liked that kind of stuff.”

  “So how can someone like that just walk in and start doing whatever he wants?” Cole asked. When he’d started to ask that question, he could feel Paige bristle beside him. Once she heard it, however, she seemed more interested in the answer.