by Brian Keene
We fell silent then, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, Juan stirred. His joints popped as he stood up, and they sounded loud in the silence.
“Okay, you guys get your shit together. I’ll meet you on the roof in five minutes. Hopefully, Lee and the others have got that raft ready.”
I sought out Lori and found her hurrying up the stairs with an armload of rope. I called her name and she turned. She started to speak, but I quieted her with my mouth, pressing my lips to hers as I pulled her tight against me. Her hair and clothes were wet, but her body was warm. Then I pushed away and looked into her eyes.
“I love you. I need you to know that before I leave. Maybe it’s too soon to say it out loud. It’s only been a few days—what we have—but I’m in love with you.”
A tear ran down her face. I watched it, mesmerized.
“I love you too,” she whispered. “Be careful.”
Swallowing, I assured her that I would and wiped her tears away with my finger.
“I wish I could cry,” I told her. “I wish I could show you how much—”
Lori silenced me with another kiss, then let go and turned away.
“I’ll be here when you get back.”
She disappeared up the stairs.
After a moment, I followed her out into the rain. On the roof, the rest of the group was clustered around the raft. Tabletops and plywood had been lashed to seven big metal drums. The raft was rectangular and pointed at one end. It looked ready to fall apart.
Ducky pointed at the makeshift craft. “We’re gonna go over there in that?”
“Trust me,” Lee said, “it will work. A raft floating on two ten-gallon drums will support approximately one hundred and eighty pounds of weight. Like we said before, none of us have been eating well, so we’re all safely under that. According to my calculations, this should support the four of you, plus Louis, Christian, and the other captives. We added some buckets and Salty’s tubs for extra buoyancy.”
“But why is it pointy?” I asked. “Rafts are supposed to be square, aren’t they?”
“Pointed rafts are easier to propel, especially if they’re rectangular, rather than square. We fashioned you some crude oars using push brooms and mops from the janitor’s closet. Hopefully, they’ll work.”
“They’ll have to,” Ducky said.
“You did good.” Juan shook Lee’s hand. “Thanks, man.”
Taz pointed at a rusty, multipronged piece of metal with a length of rope attached to it, lying in the raft. “What’s that shift?”
“A grappling hook,” Lee said. “Improvised at the last minute, of course, but it should suffice. It always seemed to work for the pirates.”
Juan and Lee laughed, and seconds later the rest of us joined in. It felt good—good but surreal, as if the laughter could take away the gravity of what we were about to do.
Ducky picked up the grappling hook and squinted at the rest of us. “Ahoy bitches! I’m the dread pirate Ducky.”
It was stupid and silly, but we laughed harder. I got a stitch in my side, and tears ran down Juan’s face.
That was when the singing started.
We all heard it this time. Well, at least the men heard it; a beautiful, clear melody that carried over the roar of the waves and the sound of the rain. We stopped and cocked our heads, entranced. The women stared at us like we’d lost our minds. We turned just as Nate jumped off the roof and plunged into the water.
“Shit!” Sarah shouted.
The spell was broken. We raced to the edge, staring in disbelief. Nate was entwined in the arms of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Long blond hair, glistening with droplets of water, cascaded over her milky skin and breasts. Their mouths met hungrily, their tongues seeking each other. Nate went limp, surrendering himself to her embrace, locked in her arms. The woman in the water wrapped herself tighter around him, twisting her body. Her lower half crested a wave.
From our vantage point on the ledge, Sarah, Mindy, and I gasped in unison. We couldn’t believe what we were seeing. Instead of legs, the woman in the water had a fishlike tail, grayish-silver and covered with scales. She flicked it back and forth, as if she was waving at us with it, and then both she and Nate vanished below the surface.
“Nate!” Sarah shrieked.
Mike stepped out of his shoes and balanced on the ledge, preparing to jump.
Mindy grabbed him, “What are you doing?”
“We’ve got to get Nate! She’s drowning him!”
The water churned and then the mermaid’s head broke the surface again. Nate was no longer with her. The mermaid stared at us and I lost myself in her eyes. Then she opened her mouth and began to sing.
“Listen,” Lee breathed. “It’s beautiful.” As if asleep, he shuffled toward the edge of the roof.
Mike nodded his head in agreement. “It sure is. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I’ve got to get closer.”
“I don’t hear nothing,” Lashawn said.
Lori shook her head. “Me either.”
“Women can’t hear it,” Anna gasped. “Remember? That’s what the kids said.”
I tore my gaze away from the mermaid, but her voice filled my head.
Mike struggled with Mindy as she fought to pull him back. Anna jumped in front of Lee and shook him. He stared at her blankly; then she pinched him.
Taz and Ducky headed for the edge, too. I noticed that both of them had an obvious hard-on jutting from their wet pants. My own penis was stirring as well. Still, I tried to fight. Then my feet betrayed me and I joined the procession, stepping up onto the ledge. My erection strained against my zipper, throbbing.
Lori grabbed my arm. “Kevin, what are you doing?”
“Stop me, Lori,” I whimpered. “It’s too strong. I can’t fight it.”
“You have to!”
Salty stuffed his fingers in his ears and the veins stuck out in his neck as he tried to fight the siren’s call. “Shoot her, Juan! It’s a sea-witch! A harpie! Shoot her!”
Juan ignored him, slack-jawed and mesmerized by the song. Sarah slapped him and he shook his head, glaring at her.
“Don’t listen to her!” Sarah snapped.
“Get away from me.” Juan shoved her backward.
Sarah stepped toward him again and Juan slapped her hard across the mouth. Reeling, she brought her hand to her lips. Her fingers came away bloody. Juan pushed past her, toward the edge of the roof.
“Fuck this,” Sarah growled. She reared back and then lunged for him. One hand darted between his legs, grabbed his balls, and squeezed. Howling, Juan collapsed to his knees, dropping the rifle. Sarah picked it up.
“Everybody get back,” she yelled. She stepped to the edge and swung the rifle downward. The thing in the water directed her song towards Sarah, and her aim wavered. Then, slowly, she started to swivel the weapon back around towards us.
“What’s wrong with Sarah?” Anna moaned. “It’s not supposed to work on women. That’s what you guys said!”
“Don’t listen to it, Kevin,” Lori urged me.
Hands over my ears, I stepped off the ledge and back onto the roof and ran towards Sarah. She’s gay, I thought. She prefers other women. Maybe that’s why it’s working on her.
The M-16 continued its turn towards us. Sarah’s eyes were vacant.
I grabbed her wrist. “Block it out, Sarah, and shoot the bitch!”
Gritting her teeth, Sarah shook her head, focused, and then squeezed the trigger. She missed—on purpose or not I’ll never know.
“Somebody stop me,” she pleaded.
Her face grew clouded again and she turned back towards us. Before she could aim, Lashawn and Lori jumped on her, wrestling Sarah to the ground. Lee, Mike, Juan, Taz, Ducky, and Salty all moved towards the edge, and Malik and James were following close behind.
The mermaid’s voice crept into my head again and I could feel her picking through my brain—invisible fingers that poked and prodded, trying to control m
e. Mentally shrugging her off, I pulled my pistol, aimed as best I could, and fired. The first two bullets missed. The third, fourth and fifth didn’t, immediately silencing her song and obliterating one bobbing breast and most of her head. She sank beneath the waves in a crimson froth.
Nate never resurfaced.
“You killed her,” Lee rasped, holding his head.
I nodded, unable to speak.
Lashawn and Lori let Sarah up. Panting, she rose to her feet, slammed a fresh clip into place and stepped away from the edge.
“Can I have my gun back?” Juan asked her.
She handed it to him without a word, blood trickling from her split lip.
“Sorry about that,” he apologized.
“Don’t sweat it,” Sarah said. “She was in my head, too.”
Juan pointed at the still smoking Sig in my hand. “How many shots did you fire?”
I shrugged. “Five, I think.”
“That means you’ve got two left. Keep that in mind when we go next door.”
“Okay.” I wasn’t sure what I’d do once the gun was empty. Throw it at the Satanists, maybe, and hope I knocked one out?
Wincing, Taz pressed his fingertips into his forehead. “Damn, yo. My fucking head hurts.”
“Mine too,” I sympathized. “It’s like she was inside my brain.”
“Poor Nate.” Anna shook her head sadly.
“Shouldn’t we look for him?” Lori asked.
Nobody answered her.
Juan tilted his head from side to side, cracking the joints, and then turned to me. “All right, let’s go. The darkness is coming quick.”
Using the telescope, Lee checked on the Satanists and reported that they were still making preparations. He, Mike, Sarah, and Salty dropped the raft into the water, and we all held our breath. It started to sink, and then bobbed back up again, floating aloft on the waves. Mike untied the rope, securing it to the roof.
We said our good-byes. I noticed that while Lashawn hugged Taz, she was simultaneously staring at Ducky over his shoulder. Moving away from the others, Lori and I embraced, and she started to cry again.
“I’ll come back,” I whispered to her, and didn’t believe a word of it.
“You better,” she whispered back, and I could tell that she didn’t believe it, either.
We clambered out onto the raft. It rocked under our weight, but stayed afloat. Ducky and I each grabbed an oar and began paddling, while Juan and Taz positioned themselves at opposite ends, their weapons at the ready. We pushed off from the building and struggled against the current. For one harrowing moment, I was convinced the waves would smash us against the side, but then we were free and it became almost easy.
The sun’s gray silhouette vanished in the sky and the water turned black.
Ducky shifted his weight and the raft rolled. “So, what the hell was that thing back there?”
“You saw what it was,” Juan said.
“A bitch with a fish tail. A mermaid.”
“Yep.”
“That’s fucked up, dawg. That’s really fucked up.”
“Lori and I were talking about that earlier,” I said. “It’s like fantasy and reality are blending now. The rain, I could accept. But a mermaid?”
“Yeah,” Ducky repeated, “that’s fucked up. Some goddamn Walt Disney shit.”
Thunder rolled across the sky and the rain fell harder.
“Ya know what’s fucked up?” Taz said. “Back in the day, when I was dealing, at the same time, I was part of the neighborhood watch. Even got a commendation for it. How fucked up is that?”
“That’s pretty fucked up,” Juan admitted. “What are you now?”
Taz grinned in the darkness, raindrops running down his face. “Shit, dawg. I’m still the neighborhood watch. We all are.”
Juan laughed. He looked out at the choppy ocean and said, “This is our hood now.”
Cloaked by the rain and the darkness, we drifted towards the Trade Center and the confrontation that awaited us there. My breath hitched in my throat and the others heard it.
“It’ll be cool, Kevin,” Taz assured me. “You ain’t gonna cry or nothing, are you?”
“I can’t cry,” I said. “I don’t know how.”
“That’s pretty fucked up, too.”
The rain beat against the raft and we drifted on in silence. It took us about twenty minutes to reach the Trade Center, each second seeming like an hour. A heavy fog rose from the water, obscuring everything, and we fretted that we’d miss the building completely or worse, drift past it and out into the open sea. Just as we were about to admit defeat, the bonfire erupted to our left. It was close. Closer than we’d realized. We still couldn’t see the building, but the bright orange flames were hard to miss, impossibly shooting sparks up into the heavy downpour.
“I’d still like to know how the fuck they get that shit to burn in the rain,” Taz commented.
We drifted closer.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Juan hissed. “Everybody knows the plan, right? Taz and I lay down a distraction while you guys rescue the others.”
Taz and Ducky nodded. I smiled, trying to look self-assured but feeling scared and foolish and very small. My sphincter muscles contracted and my balls shriveled up to the size of raisins. I flipped the wet hair out of my eyes, took a deep breath, and tightened my fingers around the pistol.
Then, suddenly, directly in front of us, the building emerged from the fog like some island cliff face. Upraised voices drifted through the mist, echoing around us. Chanting words that I’m sure weren’t part of any language spoken on Earth. I shivered; wet and cold and miserable.
Juan leaned forward, peering through the rain. “Anybody see Louis and Christian’s boat?”
Silently, we shook our heads.
“Maybe the Satanists took it inside,” Ducky suggested. “Put it with their surfboards and shit?”
“Could be,” Juan agreed. “Keep an eye out for it. We might need it to get everybody back home, if there’s a lot of prisoners.”
We pulled alongside the building, next to an office window. Ducky and I struggled to hold the raft in place while Juan stood up, peered through the window, and investigated.
“I don’t think there’s anybody inside the room,” he said.
“Want to go in that way?” Taz asked.
Juan nodded. “It beats the hell out of using that grappling hook.”
“Word,” Taz agreed. “I’m not up for that Pirates of the Caribbean shit, anyway.”
Juan tried opening the window.
“It’s locked,” he whispered, “but I’ve got a key.”
He smashed in the glass with the butt of his rifle. I held my breath, waiting for sounds of discovery or alarm, but the chanting continued. I noticed that Ducky was holding his breath as well.
Juan looked back at us. “Let’s do it.”
He gripped the sides and climbed through the hole. Taz and I followed after him. Ducky tossed us the rope, and I tied the end to a desk leg, securing the raft against the tide. Then he clambered through as well.
It was dark inside the office. What little light there was came from two fluorescent green glow sticks hanging from a nail in the wall. The damp, rotting carpet felt like a sponge under our boots. The musty air clogged our lungs; the furnishings were covered with mildew.
Juan clicked on his flashlight.
Somebody had spray-painted graffiti on the wall and the cubicle partitions. I recognized some of it—the obligatory pentagram and 666, snakes, demonic faces, and symbols from albums by Iron Maiden and Blue Oyster Cult—all standard high-school amateur devil worship crap. But there were other things, too, figures that I’d never seen before, figures that made me shiver just looking at them. There was writing:
KANDARA RULZ! IA DE MEEBLE UNT PURTURABO! THERE IS NO GOD BUT OB! KAT SHTARI! LEVIATHAN DESTRATO UR BEHEMOTH!
“Yo, what the hell is that shit?” Taz whispered. “Who the fuck is Kandara and Ob?”
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br /> “I don’t know,” I answered. “Could it be a gang thing?”
Taz shrugged. “I never knew a brother named Ob. And there ain’t no crews in Baltimore named Kandara. Must be from out of town. Probably New York or something.”
Another drawing showed a circular maze spiraling in on itself. In the center of the spiral, there was a squiggly blob with half-moon-shaped eyes and tentacles. It was cartoonish and crude, like something from a kid’s doodle pad—but unsettling, too. The eyes seemed to be staring at us. Below the image was scrawled,
HE WAITS AT THE HEART OF THE LABYRINTH!
“The fuck does that mean?” Ducky asked. “What’s a labyrinth?”
“It’s another word for a maze,” I explained.
“Maybe they was into Pac-Man and shit,” Taz joked, but his smile flickered, and there was no laughter in his voice.
Juan hesitated, then reached out and touched the graffiti. His fingertips came away red. He sniffed them.
“It’s blood,” he hissed. “Fresh fucking blood!” With a look of disgust, he wiped his fingers on his pants.
“This is bad,” Ducky whispered. “This is really fucking bad. Maybe we should just go, ya’ll?”
“Man, screw that!” Taz punched his shoulder. “You fucking scared, man?”
“Hell yes, I’m scared! You are too, motherfucker!”
“I ain’t scared, bitch! I ain’t scared of nothing. I’m ready to smoke these fuckers.”
“Both of you shut up,” I said. “You’re going to give us away.”
Taz scowled at me, but kept quiet. Ducky skulked away.
I picked up a wet book. The cover had some kind of Arabic writing. I opened it up, but the pages were like wads of cottage cheese. I dropped it. My fingers felt greasy.
Ducky noticed my discomfort. “That book didn’t have that White Fuzz shit on it, did it?”
“No,” I said. “Just felt nasty. Oily.”
Juan crept toward the open door. We tiptoed along behind him. The hallway was empty and lit with more hanging glow sticks. The air reeked, so I breathed through my mouth. Rotten food and other refuse littered the floor. A pile of feces with flies crawling over it. Empty beer cans and wine bottles. A moldy porno magazine. A withered head of lettuce covered with maggots. Several used condoms. A severed human hand, also swarming with maggots. An eyeball with a strand of gristle or muscle still attached to it. Ducky and I both recoiled in disgust when we saw it.
