by Kit Hallows
27
That night I dreamt of skeletal knuckles rapping on the wooden door, unseen creatures swarming at the window, and a nest of copper-colored snakes coiling beneath my pillow. But one nightmare in particular stood out amongst them all.
I'd been floating in the air, high above my cabin as the sound of crashing foliage and the rich scent of pine filled the air. I watched as a huge hand reached out from the forest and paused over the roof. Its flesh pitted and grey, like a hand carved from stone. It enveloped the roof and slowly pressed down. The din had been momentous, like the sound of the whole world grinding to an end.
My point of view changed and I was within the cabin but the sound of screeching and slow dissolution continued. I fought to wrench the door open but it was stuck firm and the windows had been obscured by thick white webs. Tiny putrid green spiders with shiny black eyes scuttled along the silken strands as I tried to peer out.
The crushing din grew louder, great cracks and fissures burst along the ceiling and walls. I'd stumbled across the room looking for a means of escape and as I rushed to check the bathroom window, I glimpsed myself in the mirror and recoiled. It wasn't me. It was a man with no features. A man who was barely there. A ghost waiting for its end.
I woke drenched in sweat, the alarm clock chiming, my heart racing. "Fuck this place." I jumped out of bed and ran a cold shower. The shock of the icy water helped to bring me back to the present.
There was still work to do, and the sooner it was done, the sooner I'd be out of here.
I dressed in my usual garb, the exception being the bulletproof vest concealed beneath my black sweater. It was a prototype that Bastion had fashioned from God only knows what. Somehow the material was gossamer thin, yet tougher than anything I'd ever seen before. Combined with Tom's coat, it was double insurance.
There was no doubt I'd need all the protection I could get. Dryden's gang on their own looked to be formidable opponents. Add the ghoul himself to that scenario, and I didn't fancy my chances. I was going to have to take them out one at a time. Using stealth and all the luck I could scavenge.
Usually, on a mission like this, I'd have support from the Organization. Recon, undercover agents or at least some back-up. But not this time.
I wondered what might be going on in the city, what strings Erland was pulling and if he'd had any news. I switched my phone on to check for any updates and found a message from an unknown number:
- D - Your order's ready. Meet me at the club at six.
Dryden.
Did he actually have the crystals, or were they planning to rob me and leave my remains for the wolves? It didn't really matter either way; I had to take them down before they could launch their attack on me. I'd seen the look in the ghoul's eyes and it was all bad news. He didn't trust me and he'd already made it clear that he wasn't one to hesitate when he had loose ends to dispose of.
"It's going to be a fun day." I holstered my gun, secured the sword by my side and finished the rest of my coffee. Then I grabbed my bag and opened the cabin door, glad to find it free of spider webs.
The wolf den was still and the hollow was silent except for the lingering buzz of flies. I longed for a shovel to bury the bodies, so carelessly tossed away. I knew the Organization would come to collect the remains, identify the poor souls, and respectfully lay them to rest. Yet I wanted to do something to at least keep the scavengers away until then.
But there was no time.
A blue wash of sky stretched overhead, dawn having given way to daylight. I checked the GPS on my phone and took a screenshot of the coordinates to send to Dauple later. Then I bowed my head.
"I'll get the people who did this, I promise."
I climbed back up the rise and passed the wolves that were still strewn across the forest floor. A few crows pecked at the paltry scraps that had been left behind by the creatures that had visited the corpses overnight.
I found the tracks left by the quad bikes a few feet away and followed them deeper and deeper into the forest.
The brush grew dense and in many placed it was already arching back over, obscuring the trail. Eerie dark green moss hung like serpents from the branches and cobwebs shimmered in the shafts of sunlight that pierced through the dense canopy above.
I tried to check my coordinates every quarter of a mile or so but the GPS kept flickering and resetting itself. My compass was no better, with its needle endlessly spinning. I trekked on for quite awhile, then slowly came to a halt as the quad bike tracks headed straight into the sheer side of a small hill.
The rock face looked like thick grey granite. I ran my hand over the rough weathered stone expecting it to be an illusion, but it seemed quite real, which was impossible.
"What the hell?" I grabbed a crystal from my bag and white wisps of energy swirled inside it as the facets gleamed in the morning light. I clasped it between my palms, drew in its power and examined the rock face once more.
There was magic here. Powerful magic, it glinted within the crevices of stone, forming what looked like purple filaments. I pushed against the wall again but it wouldn't yield.
I reached for my bag and a pair of enhanced-sight glasses to help me determine the origins of the spell, when something stirred on the hilltop above.
The sound was followed by a creak, grunt, and a heavy thump.
28
I harnessed the last of the power coursing through me and rendered myself invisible. It wasn't a perfect spell, but any blinkered looking my way wouldn't see me.
Or so I hoped.
I crept back from the foot of the hill, glanced up toward the summit and spotted a man on the ridge, smoking as he checked his phone. He looked like any of the ordinary Joes you'd see outside an office building on a mid-morning break.
So what in the hell was he doing out here, in the middle of nowhere?
I made my way up the hill and bent low as I snuck up on him, using the trees for cover. Between the spell and the fact that he was basically hypnotized by the bright screen on his phone, my stealth was a wasted effort. Luckily for him I wasn't a bear.
As I neared, he half coughed, half spluttered and a cloud of acrid blue smoke wafted toward my face. It was only when I was almost upon him that I noticed the hatch at his feet, the lid obscured with dirt, twigs and leaves.
He seemed to be unarmed; the deadliest thing in his arsenal the cigarette clenched between his fingers. I pulled my gun and held it at my side as I reversed the cloaking spell. "Morning," I said, as if we were merely joggers passing on a trail.
His face transformed from phone-addled zombie to terrified geek and he whipped around. "Who..."
"Morgan Rook. I'm not known for my patience. Or as being someone to fuck around with. Now open the hatch."
He shook his head. "I can't let unauthorized-"
"You can and you will." I aimed the gun squarely at his head. The cigarette fell from his fingers.
"Please." He shook his head. "I can't. It's more than my life's worth."
I enjoyed watching him flinch as I leaned in and looked him straight in the eye. "Is it really more than your life's worth?"
Beads of sweat broke out on his pasty forehead.
"What do you do down there?" I demanded.
"I...I work in the lab."
"Right. Using people like they're batteries." I drew in closer. "And when there's nothing left to take from them, you shoot them in the head and leave their remains for the wolves."
"No, I don't do that! I just keep the machines running. I'm a technician, that's all. I don't know what they're experimenting on down there."
I pulled him close until our noses almost touched. "Are you going to open that hatch or am I going to break every last one of your bones?"
"I'll open it."
I released him. He dropped to his knees and reached for a keypad hidden beneath a hollow fiberglass stone. The seal broke with a loud hiss. He pulled the hatch wide open and let it clunk to the ground, revealing the first few rung
s of a metal ladder that descended into darkness.
"There," the man said. "I did what you asked."
"How many are down there?"
"Four."
"Is Dryden one of them?"
He nodded, fumbled for another cigarette and lit it. Taking several hasty puffs, he glanced down the hill. I could see the wheels turning inside his head. Before I could stop him, he flicked the cigarette at me and scrambled down the hill, running like an overgrown school boy in an egg and spoon race.
"For fuck's sake." I couldn't risk him getting away so I took off after him. Within moments I'd closed the gap between us. He gave several panicked cries as he glanced back and I could only watch as he tripped on a branch and sailed down the bank.
There was a horrible crack as his head struck a rock, and I winced as his body fell limp and came to rest at an impossible angle. There was nothing I could do for him. "That was a bad move," I sighed, as I turned and walked back to the hatch.
The ladder was slick and the tunnel narrow. I had to reposition my sword several times to stop it from clanging against the rungs. As I reached the bottom I found myself in what was seemed to be the empty storeroom of a large concrete bunker. There was a pair of doors along one wall, the ceiling was low and whole place looked like it had been sound-proofed. Clearly someone had put serious money and a lot of thought into the construction of this hellhole. And sadly, it seemed it had been in operation for quite some time.
I felt my jaw clench as my mind turned to the countless victims that must have suffered here. Then I paused to steel myself and refocus. I stepped lightly toward the doors as a muffled scream echoed in the distance. The sound felt like it was piercing my very soul. I cursed Erland, the Organization and the shitty fact that I had no backup.
It was just me and the ten tons of darkness looming ahead.
Then one last cold hard truth hit me. The worst of all.
No one even knew I was here.
29
I reached into my bag and searched for one of Bastion's beetles, a clever little device with crystalline antennas that relayed a live feed to a pair of charged crystal lenses. The bugs were small, cloaked and almost impossible to detect in low light. So pretty much ideal for this horribly murky place.
The room seemed much darker after I slipped on the glasses and set the beetle down so it could it scurry under the door. The feed it sent back was not exactly clear, but it was good enough. I got the lay of the corridor and a heads up on the two bikers guarding the vault-like metal doors at the far end of the passage. They slouched against opposing walls in the midst of what looked like idle, bored conversation as three light bulbs in reinforced cages spilled a dim sallow glow over the floor. There was no way I could use the beetle to douse the light so I called it back and slipped it into my bag.
I had a few crystals; I'd need at least three of them to make it to the end of the passage. I held them in my palms and absorbed the magic. "Join the unseen," I whispered, as I conjured the spell I'd used to creep up on the technician. As soon as it was set I cracked the doors open, slipped through and headed for the shadows that nestled along the wall. Both sentries glanced my way, unfolded their arms, and stood to attention.
If the spell worked, the only thing they'd have seen was the slight swing of the doors as they breezed open and closed on their own. I watched as they stared down the hall, and thought I was in the clear until one of them pulled a long blade from the sheath at his side.
I hurried on, walking as fast as stealth would allow, trying to cover as much ground as I could before the spell wore thin. I didn't have long.
The bikers glared with furrowed brows as they scrutinized the shadowy corridor. Luckily, dim lighting was a must in facilities like this to preserve the quality of the crystals. Something that played to my advantage.
I was inches away when one of the bikers turned toward me. I could see it was sixth sense, not his eyes, alerting him to my presence. Then the spell winked out.
By the time he actually saw me I had a gun to his temple and a finger to my lips.
The guard wielding the blade turned and rushed me. I waited for him to swing, then used his buddy as a shield. His protests were cut short as a torrent of blood rushed from the gash in his throat.
I grabbed the attacker's wrist before he could strike again. He had the advantage of strength, and once he broke my grip I was mere seconds from having his knife in my heart. I shoved him away and pulled out my sword. "Looks like you brought a knife to a sword fight." I lunged before he could reply and left him to bleed out upon the floor as I rifled through his buddy's pockets.
I found the key, unlocked the door and slipped over the ominous threshold, as a distant, horrifying scream rattled my soul.
30
A long strip of windows lined the wall in the next corridor. As I peered through the glass I saw men and women reclined in a row of high-backed chairs that spanned the length of the long dimly lit room.
Their hands and feet were bound by restraints and long snaking tubes extended from their wrists to the tall brass cylinders behind them. It was like some kind of sinister blood bank and they seemed to be in a torpid state, their faces emotionless as they stared eerily into space.
"I'll get you out of here," I whispered. "Just as soon as I've dealt with the bastards who've done this."
I made my way along the passage, listening for signs of Dryden but the corridor turned out to be a dead end. I'd never raided a black crystal farm before, but I knew the set-up and there was no way they could run this place without a deep extraction room and a lab. Which meant there had to be a hidden door somewhere nearby.
I grabbed a crystal from my bag and scoured the walls as a muffled scream echoed up from below. There was another level to the place. I looked the floor over and was on the verge of moving on when I spotted the hairline crack and followed its course to find it formed a large square. I pressed each corner with the heel of my boot until one of them clicked and a pneumatic hiss filled the corridor. I backed away as the hatch rose and slid across the floor.
As I descended the ladder the scream rang out again. This time it was almost as clear as a bell. Once it subsided, my ear caught the warped din of what sounded like an album being played at the wrong speed. I leapt the rest of the way down, landing in a well-lit corridor with a stainless steel door at the end.
I crept along, my heart pounding. I was armed and had the element of surprise, but Dryden worried me. The ghoul was a wild card. I slipped a beetle under the door and put the glasses back on.
The murky room was lit by a bank of monitors and by their light I saw the shifter biker. He sat back with his feet on the desk, watching the screens with a sick, contented grin on his rancid face.
I slid the door open and stepped inside. As the shifter began to turn my way, I closed the distance between us and got him in a headlock. I squeezed tighter as he struggled to free himself, then my gaze drifted to the bank of monitors and the six terrified faces that stared back.
Screams rang out from behind a heavy steel door in the corner and the sound of a broken calliope burst from the speakers like a soundtrack to a fairground nightmare.
"Fuck...you..." The biker seized my arm and thick black hairs sprang from the backs of his hands as he tried to transform. I pulled myself free, grabbed his head and twisted until I heard a crack. His final breaths escaped his lips as I scanned the monitors. I was searching for any signs of Dryden but the fear and the horror on the faces of the victims was getting to me. I forced back my fury. I couldn't let emotions blind me. I had to focus, and focus hard, or none of us would get out of this place alive.
Each victim sat in a bare white cell with their eyes clamped open, forced to witness whatever horrors were being projected onto the screens before them.
My gaze was drawn to a crazed looking man writhing in his seat. Fat leeches the color of bruises clung to the back of his skull. Maraskive leeches, a vital component in black crystal farming and not easy t
o come by without serious connections. The Organization was desperate to find out where they originated from as part of their effort to cut off trade routes, but the source was a well guarded secret and remained a mystery.
The man howled again as the leeches at his throat swelled like tumors.
He didn't have long.
I tried the door in the corner. Locked. I checked the shifter's corpse and found a bunch of keys. It didn't take long to find the right one. I unlocked the door and listened hard for any sign of Dryden below the cacophony of discordant music.
I counted six shafts of light flickering out from under the heavy duty doors that lined the short dark corridor. I scoured the shadows, making sure I was alone before opening the door of the first room.
Inside was a man strapped to a chair. His entire body jerked in a series of sporadic tics as he fought against the restraints that forced him to stare at the flickering screen before him. A time-lapse film of a swarm of huge, bloody red, carnivorous ants with swollen black abdomens was projected on the screen. I watched as they scurried across the corpse of a dog, slowly, systematically picking it clean. Then the film made a jump-cut to the face of a screaming woman, her wide eyes filled with pure unadulterated terror, as the reflection of a gleaming blade flashed in her pupils. The film jumped again and a grinning clown stood in the shadows with a menacing hook in his hand as a dog barked. Then it flashed back to the ants, and over and over it went.
I pulled out my lighter to singe the leeches from his neck. As I applied the flame they curled up on themselves and the smell of their burning bodies caused me to retch. I grabbed a glove from my bag and pulled them off his neck as he continued to scream at the film. "Pleeeeease! Pleeeeeease!"
"You're going to be okay," I promised, trying to calm him as I crushed the leaches under my boots, sending spatters of dark ichor across the cell floor. But I had serious doubts he'd ever be okay again.
