Darkest Light

by Hiromi Goto

  “Thank you, sir!” The room service attendant saluted. “It’s the thought that counts! Thank you, sir, for not eating me!” In his excitement he forgot all decorum, dropping from his upright posture and loping down the hallway on all fours.

  The plastic wrapping crinkled, crackled. The slap, slap, slap of something struggling.

  Gee stared at the tray of “the freshest” canapés.

  Tightly encased by several layers of plastic, the dozen rats had room to move only their pale, naked tails. Some of them, caught in a panic, twitched spasmodically against the transparent binding. They shuddered and convulsed before flopping back weakly, spent.

  Liquid pooled inside Gee’s mouth. Raging hunger and disgust roiled inside him like worms. He swallowed.

  Rilla and Lilla had drawn closer. Long strands of gooey slime hung from their open mouths. “Eeeaaaaatsss,” Rilla hissed, bobbing back and forth. As if she’d been hypnotized by the sight of the quivering rats.

  The distant roar from the bathroom stopped. The tub must have filled.

  Gee reached for the tray and tore off the wrap. Two seconds of stillness.

  The rats erupted. Silently, instinctively, they darted for the walls, seeking vents and openings. The scrabbling of tiny claws. The eels whipped after them, unable to control their predator drive.

  A bulging in the back of Gee’s throat. As if a limb were trying to grow out of his maw. The compulsion to catch a plump, quivering rat was so great he could scarcely bear it. He slapped himself. The sound, more than the pain, jolted him out of his instincts.

  Gee ran for the door. Faltered.

  Damn it! he thought. He didn’t owe her! He had no reason to feel responsible! But he couldn’t stop himself from looking back.

  Rilla was by the piano, her mouth plugged with half a rat. Lilla, too slow-moving without her bottom half and tail, hadn’t caught any prey.

  “Lilla!” Gee hissed.

  Both eels whipped their head toward him, the pale rat tail dangling from Rilla’s jaws, swinging wildly.

  Ilanna sauntered into the room, steam rising from her naked body. The ragged grey edges of skin circled her empty shoulder sockets like decayed lace.

  Lilla began thrashing toward Gee. But Rilla, intact, reached him first, the squirming rat still caught in her teeth.

  “Stop him, Rilla!” Ilanna cried, her voice thick with rage.

  Rilla clamped down with her jaws to snap the rat in two just as Gee swung back his leg and kicked the eel’s side. Her heavy, muscular body sailed through the air.

  “No!” Ilanna cried as she rushed toward her eel.

  Gee darted for Lilla and gripped her around her middle, slime squeezing out from between his fingers. He ran. Out the door. Down the hallway, even as Lilla curled up his forearm, running so hard that he crashed into the elevator. He banged at the down button.

  Please, he begged. Please, please, please let the car be empty. He looked over his shoulder, heart thudding loud and slow inside his head.

  Ting.

  He whipped his head around as the doors slid open. A small sound escaped his lips, his relief so great.

  No one. No Karu. Gee staggered inside and click, click, clicked the button to close the door. He started breathing once the doors slid shut.

  Gee stared at all the different buttons on the panel—he had to flee in the direction Cracker was most likely to take. He dragged his hand across his face. Think! Think!

  His stomach squeezed and rippled, acute hunger a stabbing pain, forcing him to double over. He dropped to his hands and knees. He’d never been so hungry before, ever in his life—why did he hunger so, now? He was so hungry he could eat…. His eyes fell upon Lilla clenched around his forearm.

  He could eat a live eel….

  Lilla, as if feeling his thoughts, squeezed more tightly.

  Gee shook his head. He forced himself upright and pressed the button for the lobby. The hotel workers knew him only as Mr. Glueskin, the horrific monster. That meant they were unlikely to attack him.

  The elevator wasn’t moving.

  Gee pressed the lobby button more firmly. The car did not move. What—

  He needed a key. He had to swipe the keycard through the magnetic reader in order to leave the penthouse level. He was trapped, suspended in a box, until someone with a keycard swiped first.

  Did Ilanna realize this? She wouldn’t have a card either, would she?

  But she could push the elevator call button and the doors would open, revealing him, as easy as opening a birthday present….

  He should make a dash for the fire escape route, down the length of the hall. Or should he wait for a random guest or hotel worker to call the elevator back down?

  Yes, no, maybe so! the nasty voice inside him tittered. Yes, no, maybe so!

  Chapter Sixteen

  The elevator lurched, and began descending.

  Gee almost wept.

  The numbers lighting up above the door didn’t stop at the lobby. Gee tucked himself against the side of the car as it continued descending.

  The car halted at sub-basement level 2. The doors slid open.

  A moist waft of cooked meat, wet fur and dirty laundry rolled inside the enclosed space. Gee’s gut churned. He didn’t know if it was hunger or nausea.

  A room service attendant, holding a tray with champagne on ice, stepped into the car. He did a double-take when he caught sight of Gee. “Mr. Glueskin, sir!” he exclaimed.

  It was the boy who’d been taking canapés to the pumpkin head, Gee realized.

  “Are you looking for that delicious guest you had with you?” The attendant leaned toward him and winked. “I saw her down here with a cat! Of course I didn’t try to catch her myself—I know she’s your special treat. Are you playing hide ’n’ seek to make it all the more exciting?”

  Gee cleared his throat. Phlegm rattled, and he swallowed it down. “Yes, as a matter of fact.” He smiled with what he hoped looked like malicious anticipation. “I thought raising the stakes would make the capture so much more satisfying.”

  “Very good, sir!” The boy nodded enthusiastically.

  “But she seems to be a clever little mouse,” Gee complained. “I don’t suppose you could provide me with a little hint.”

  “Oh, it would be so unsporting, sir, if I mentioned that I might have seen a mouse entering the Archives.” The attendant opened his eyes wide, affecting innocence, as he pointed down the long hallway.

  “Ahhh,” Gee sighed. “One must be sporting, at all costs, in order to be a gentleman.” He punched the attendant’s free arm, hard enough to hurt. The bottle in the ice bucket clattered. “I do admire your integrity.” He winked. “I’ll be sure to reward you later.”

  The attendant took a step back, his expression fearful and confused. “Thank you, sir?”

  Gee strode confidently out of the elevator, when an idea flared inside him. He spun around to catch the edge of the closing door, forcing it to open once more. “One other thing,” he whispered.

  “Yes?” The attendant instinctively tried to push himself deeper into the farthest corner.

  Gee could see that the boy struggled to stop himself from raising his arm to protect his head. As if he expected Gee to strike him.

  That someone could be so frightened of him. It was awful.

  It was heady….

  Gee cleared his throat. “Ilanna has become tedious. She has her charms, but I’ve grown tired of her antics. Have security escort her out of my suite. She is to have no further access to my quarters. See that this is dealt with, and you shall be….” Gee paused.

  The room service boy held the tray with both hands in front of his chest so that the champagne partly blocked his face.

  “Appreciated,” Gee said slowly.

  “Of course, sir! Right away, sir!” the boy cried over-enthusiastically.

  Gee released his hand and stepped back. The elevator doors slid shut.

  A wide grin spread across his face. He was getti
ng better at this! A small flame of hope flared inside him, and he raised Lilla jubilantly into the air and shook his closed fist. “I can do this!” he exulted.

  Lilla hissed warningly and Gee sheepishly lowered his arm. He dropped his head so that his long hair fell across his face, tucked his hands into his jeans pockets and sauntered casually down the hallway, glancing at the doors from the corner of his eyes, looking for a sign.

  His fingers brushed against something small and cool in his left pocket. Gee frowned and pulled it out.

  It was a safety pin. The one that had flown out of Cracker’s hair and landed on the table. She’d said he could keep it for a souvenir…. Gee squeezed it tight and then returned it to his pocket. He picked up his pace, swiftly passing doors marked with signs. “Laundry,” he read, “Kitchen,” “Supplies.”

  A muffled little giggle.

  Gee flicked a glance over his shoulder, half-expecting to see a child on a tricycle….

  The hallway was empty. Silent.

  The hairs slowly began rising on the back of his neck. All those rooms…. They should have been noisy with the sounds of cooking, the thrum of washers and dryers, the raised voices of the workers.

  Why do you think Half World functions in ways you find familiar? the nasty little voice inside him tittered. Half World is governed by memory and pain! Suffering and despair.

  The little giggle rippled again. Gee whipped his head forward.

  The long hallway was empty.

  In his peripheral vision he could see a small, unmarked wooden door slowly swing open. Unlike the other doors in the passageway it was unlit on the other side, and the light from the hallway didn’t penetrate the darkness. A little gust of air blew outward and brought with it the odour of slightly mildewed books. Old paper. Age.

  “This must be it,” Gee whispered.

  Lilla extended her length a few inches past Gee’s hand. She opened her jaws as if tasting the air inside her mouth.

  A barely audible giggle wafted toward him.

  Gee swallowed. “Cracker?” he whispered. He stepped through the little doorway and, slightly hunched over, began walking down the dark passage. Little bits crackled and crunched unpleasantly beneath his sneakers. “Cracker,” he called again, a little louder.

  Scrabbling of nails, claws, along the walls. Gee shuddered. Must be rats, he thought. Only rats.

  The darkness intensified. Dim shadows, black against grey. He couldn’t see where the passage led. The sound of his slow heart was loud inside his ears. He walked carefully, his hand outstretched. Lilla, ever cautious, spiralled up his arm to curl around his neck.

  Behind them, the small door to the hallway slammed shut. Utter blackness.

  The sound of his own breathing. Too loud. Like the breath of an Other.

  His outstretched fingers felt something rough. Slightly damp. He jerked his hand away. Tentatively reached out once more.

  Wood. Pieces of wood. The heads of heavy metal nails, large and rough. A metal ring, embedded. Gee curved his fingers around it and took a breath. He pulled.

  The door screeched on old hinges. The musty, complex odour of ancient books and dust washed over them like a slow-moving wave. If at all possible, the Archives behind the small door was even darker.

  “Are you there?” Gee’s voice was no more than a rasping whisper.

  It was as if the entire room was holding its breath.

  Gee swallowed. He could feel the size of the room through the open doorway. He should just turn around and feel his way back to the main hallway. It was too dark to see or do anything. He could find a flashlight and come back. He turned away.

  Two small hands slammed into his stomach. Gee staggered backward, only for his calves to hit something solid. He crumpled at the knees, tripping over something huddled on the floor. Gee fell through the doorway and into the Archives. Landing hard on his back, his breath was knocked from his lungs.

  Childish giggles. From either side of him. The patter of little feet. The door slammed, the iron ring clanking from the other side.

  Something whisked past him, the cool air of it whipping the bottom edge of his T-shirt, skating against his skin. Gee yanked his arms and legs toward his torso, standing up, twisting his neck from side to side, trying futilely to see in the utter darkness.

  A trail of giggles behind him. Too close.

  Lilla hissed warningly.

  “Who are you?” a sweet childish voice asked.

  Gee slowly turned around.

  From some distance away came a loud clack, as if a large switch had been flipped. Light blazed from the enormous ceiling. Blinded, Gee covered his eyes with his forearm.

  Childish whispery voices. Their voices breaking into laughter.

  Gee’s skin prickled. Lilla seemed to press herself flat against his collarbones. He had no idea how many of them there were. Their voices moved about like gusts of errant wind. And where was Cracker?

  Four little girls in a row; they were no older than five or six years old…. Dressed in identical frocks and white buckled shoes, they stood silently before him with their hands clasped behind their backs. Their faces were exceedingly white, their skin overblown. Soft-looking. As if they were bloated with water and rotting from within. Children who were, each in a different way, terribly maimed. Quadruplets. Or clones. An uncanny duplication made horrific with their maiming.

  “Where did you come from?” A child who was covered with gaping, bloodless cuts stared at him. The girl’s eyes were as dark as an abyss.

  Something tightened inside Gee’s gut. Her eyes, he thought, are just like mine.

  “He’s funny,” a girl with empty eye sockets chortled.

  Lilla squeezed Gee’s torso from beneath his shirt. It felt like a warning.

  “I want to play with Older Brother,” the girl with the slashed face said. “That girl is no fun. Let’s play with Older Brother!”

  “Wait!” Gee cried. “What girl? I need to see her. She’s my friend, Cracker.”

  “Do you have crackers?” The eyeless girl’s mouth fell open. Black saliva began to dribble from her lips.

  A fifth little girl in a wet smock stepped out from a row of books. She beamed up at Gee, almost every inch of her exposed skin covered in shiny black leeches.

  Quintuplets, not quadruplets…. They were horrible to look at, repulsive … but they were still little children, who had died some horrible death. Gee swallowed. So young. He crouched down on his haunches. “My friend’s name is Cracker,” he explained gently. “We’re here to do something really important, and then we have to go back home. In time for supper.” Gee smiled. The back of his eyes felt hot.

  If only it were that simple. He and Cracker, visiting old family members and then rushing back home for supper. Popo, cross, would tell him it had been his turn to make the evening meal. But she would ask him if he was hungry. Whip up an omelette, maybe, and mushroom soup. Sautéed spinach and hot steamed rice.

  Gee’s stomach squeezed so hard he almost bent in half. He panted through the pain that seized like a cramp.

  A small, cold wet hand touched his shoulder. The girl with the leeches, her face much too close. Her eyes were unbearable. “Is Older Brother hungry too?” she asked, her childish voice so sweet, her breath reeking of rot. She patted his shoulder sympathetically, and the thwap, thwap, of her sagging flesh sounded as if it was ready to fall off her bones.

  Gee pulled away—he couldn’t help himself. He quickly scanned the enormous room: the ceiling easily eight metres high, rows of shelves filled with dusty books of various sizes and shapes. There were cubbies brimming with rolled parchments, pieces of broken pottery, dolls missing legs and arms, stuffed animals with no heads. Gee’s eyes narrowed. The book that cat had made him read: it had mentioned the Archives of Unfinished Books.

  There must be an archivist. Surely not these little girls? “What are you girls doing here?” Gee asked. “Are you supposed to be here?”

  “We live here, stupid!” t
he girl without eyes hissed, her small teeth rotten and broken.

  Gee stood up slowly.

  The girls moved around him so that he was encircled.

  “I want to speak with the archivist in charge,” Gee said sternly. “My name is Mr. Glueskin. She would have heard of me.”

  The children began chanting in low whispery voices. And as the volume rose, the words came faster and faster.

  “Fudge, fudge,

  Call the judge

  Mr. Glueskin’s gonna have a ba-by!

  What’s it gonna be?

  Girl? Boy? Slavering monster?

  Girl? Boy? Slavering monster?”

  These girls didn’t know the previous Mr. Glueskin, not like the room service boy did. Frustration roiled inside Gee’s head. The little brats were wasting his time. And why wouldn’t they answer any of his questions about Cracker? He’d felt sorry for them for having died early, and died horribly. But maybe that was his mistake. To treat them kindly. Maybe they understood only cruelty and pain. An odd little grin began spreading across his face.

  The girls, standing in a loose circle, ceased chanting. They simultaneously turned their faces to stare impassively at Gee.

  Empty eye sockets, torn bloodless faces, pale overblown flesh, pouchy and sagging—

  A low moan. Beyond a row of bookshelves.

  Gee’s heart thudded loud in his ears. “What have you done to her!” he shouted.

  The little girls simultaneously took one step closer. “Did you yell at us?” the eyeless child asked. “Did you?”

  “We don’t like to be yelled at,” the leeched girl said coldly. “We hate it.”

  The girls encircled Gee, holding hands as if they were playing a game. “We hate it,” they chanted. “We hate it.”

  They turned circles around him, faster and faster, until they were a blur of white dresses. “We hate it, we hate it,” they chanted. “We hate you. We hate you!”

  They’re little children, Gee told himself. He could overpower them. He didn’t want to hurt them. But they were already dead, weren’t they? They spun around him so fast he was growing dizzy. So difficult to think. Something bulged in the back of his throat. Eyes wide, Gee clamped his hands over his mouth. He convulsed to keep it in.