Tormented

by Lee Mountford

  ‘Quiet!’ Robert admonished. ‘We must not be heard.’

  ‘What happened to me?’ Templeton asked in a panicked whisper. The noises that rumbled all around them were horrifying; thundering roars, guttural growls, and even shrieks of pain were the ambient sounds in this hellscape.

  A flash of red lighting cut through the cosmic sky, illuminating more of the horrific landscape. As it did, Templeton’s eyes were drawn to one of the massive, cylindrical towers—and he almost screamed. A huge, multi-legged monstrosity with a fat body at its centre clung to the side of the titanic structure, like a monstrous spider waiting for its prey. Another flash, and he saw it move, its many legs working independently as it scuttled to the hidden side of the tower.

  ‘I’m going to die here,’ Templeton said, sobbing.

  ‘Already dead,’ Robert replied, still pulling him quickly along.

  ‘So what happens here? Can we die twice?’

  Robert just chuckled. A horrible, manic sound. But no definitive answer was given.

  Robert led Templeton farther along until they reached a split in the ground, a crack that grew wider and wider as it ran down before them, cutting deeper into the ground. They dropped inside and followed the slope down as jagged walls rose up around them. Templeton saw someone clinging to the sides of this wall, hiding in the cracks. His flesh, like Robert’s, was devoid of skin—dark and scabbed with yellows and blacks. Templeton’s own, in contrast, still dripped with blood, raw and fresh.

  ‘Who is that?’ Templeton asked.

  ‘Another.’

  ‘Like us?’

  ‘Like us.’ Robert confirmed, yanking Templeton forward again.

  They continued further, and as they did Templeton saw more like them, all hiding and fearful. Poor souls who had been brought here, somehow, to exist in this nightmare.

  Farther into the perceived safety of the underground cavern, Templeton saw groups of the poor wretches gathered around small fires, or hiding away in the shadows. One, he noticed, was tucked away in a corner, sitting on the ground with her knees drawn to her chest. She looked miserable, but very different from the rest of souls here. While thin and dishevelled, she was at least in possession of the skin on her naked, sagging body.

  ‘Who is she?’ Templeton asked, unsure as to why she was so different from the rest of them.

  ‘A woman I have spoken to, on occasion. Margaret Hobbes.’

  ‘Why does she have her skin?’

  ‘Different things exist here, and she is protected by one. She just waits until her master needs her, then she is pulled away and just disappears.’

  Almost on cue, the woman’s eyes opened wide, and she let out a scream as her form dissipated before Templeton’s eyes.

  His lungs burned as Robert pulled him on, relentlessly.

  ‘Where are you taking me? Shouldn’t we stay here where it’s safe?’

  ‘Not safe. Never safe. We must go. The Great God Ashklaar demands to see you.’

  ‘Great God?’

  Robert just started his manic chuckling again as tremendous roars boomed from behind. Something big was coming. Shrieks from the gathered souls rang out as they all ran in panic.

  ‘Quickly,’ Robert said.

  Heeding Robert’s words, Templeton pushed himself on.

  48

  Seymour hated that he was so reliant on this group of misfits.

  They should have listened to him; his way would have led them to safety. Led him to safety, at the very least. But they had ignored him, and more importantly, they had the weapon. On his own he stood little chance of survival, so he went against his nature of leading and followed.

  He hated it.

  And he hated the people that circumstance had lumped him together with, and he hated that he followed them like a dog out into the corridor. As they moved, Seymour heard something—a door opening—and looked back.

  He shrieked at what he saw stepping out into the hallway. It was of human form, dressed in a blood-soaked gown, with grey skin and white eyes. The skin had been peeled away from the top of its head, revealing the skull beneath, and the flesh from its lips had been torn free, showing a grimacing smile of teeth and red gums.

  ‘Run!’ Seymour yelled and pushed past the others as he broke into a sprint. Panic rose as the rest of the group laid eyes on the thing that resembled some kind of dark, twisted priest, and they matched his efforts to flee. Seymour cast another look back, but this Dark Priest simply watched them, head cocked to the side like a curious dog. It followed, but at a slow, deliberate pace.

  They bolted out from the corridor, out into the Main Hall.

  Into hell.

  In their panic running from the strange thing behind them, they hadn’t paid any attention to what was ahead and entered a room full of horrifying creatures that had moved away from the carnage of the Communal Area.

  And while trying to stop, Seymour slipped, lost his footing, and fell into one of the monstrosities that was roaming about close by.

  One of the biggest in the room.

  The thing turned and looked down to Seymour as he lay on the floor at its feet. An appendage hung down from the monster’s groin, a phallus complete with a mouth of its own that snapped at Seymour as he scampered backwards.

  Seymour had seen this thing before. He knew the person it once was and had seen its transformation take place. Even now, he could see that familiar, pathetic face frozen in horror within the massive shoulder of the beast. Above that, a nightmarish, feminine face looked down at him.

  Mother.

  Seymour screamed as it reached down and grabbed him by the throat with a massive paw. He twisted his head to look back, desperate for help, but the others had already fled towards the door to the basement, leaving him behind.

  Leaving him for dead.

  Cowards!

  Panic flooded his senses as terrifying noises rang out throughout the hall. The gathered acted as one, rushing towards the fleeing prey, and the booming footsteps of the behemoth overpowered everything as it overtook the rest of the pack in great strides, trampling some underfoot as it moved.

  The chase was on.

  But Seymour would play no part in it.

  He saw the three men disappear through the doorway moments before the powerful creature started to squeeze itself into the opening as well, pushing and cracking the frame as it forced its sizeable bulk through the gap. The rest of the creatures snapped and shrieked at its back, eager to participate in the hunt.

  Eager to feed.

  Seymour struggled in the grip of Mother, but felt himself lifted into the air. The bitch brought him up so that it could look into his eyes, and he swore he saw a smile form on its hideous face.

  It exhaled, and a rush of foul, sickening air washed over him. A long tongue snaked from its mouth and pressed its wetness against his cheek. The tongue then rolled up his skin as the foul thing licked him.

  Savouring the taste.

  ‘Please don’t,’ Seymour begged.

  Then, to his surprise, he was dropped to the floor.

  Before he could even think of scampering free, the creature reached down and pressed his back and shoulders to the floor.

  Then it mounted him, and Seymour began to scream again.

  The weight of the thing was immense, and Seymour felt his ribs cracking as it let its bulk settle atop him.

  To his eternal horror, he then felt something else as the monster moved its huge hips around.

  No! Please, God, no!

  But God didn’t listen.

  Seymour felt the gnashing appendage bite at him, eating its way into his body, tearing through between buttocks and genitals. He shrieked in pain, but the torture continued as Mother pressed more weight down on him. No matter how much he fought and squirmed, it did no good—he was helplessly trapped.

  All he could do was endure… and feel.

  The force of the appendage that ate its way through him was frightening and unrelenting. Blood pushed its way fr
om Seymour's mouth as his insides were torn and forced upwards. More blood spurted free and drowned out his gurgled screams. His ribcage cracked even more, causing searing pain to ripple through his chest, all while the devouring organ continued its march upwards with every thrust from Mother.

  And as Seymour was eaten away and mashed up internally, the blood that ran from his mouth was replaced by red meat as his intestines and guts were pushed up through the small opening, splitting open his mouth at the cheeks in the process.

  He bucked and writhed, utterly desperate, but the mass above him kept him pinned in unimaginable agony—one that went on and on until, eventually, Mother gave a final push with her writhing genitals, forcefully enough that it burst through his throat with a shower of gore.

  As Seymour’s vision faded to darkness, he saw Mother stand back up to her full height—a malicious smile on her face.

  Pleased with her work.

  49

  The carnage that the newborn entity witnessed was glorious.

  It had followed the lowly human beings as they fled from it, only to see them run into more of the creator's children. While most of the humans ran, chased by the children, one poor wretch was torn in two in an exquisite sight. The wretch’s still bleeding body was opened up and exposed, ruined and mashed insides on display.

  The great child that stood over the mangled body looked over to the entity. It took a single step back. Then another.

  And then it fled, jogging away with heavy footsteps.

  Afraid of the entity.

  As it should be.

  The newborn sensed that down below a chase was on—these pitiful humans were racing towards the creator, intending to burn the vessel it inhabited. To scorch it from existence.

  The entity felt no compunction to go down to stop it, however.

  What they were trying to do was irrelevant.

  For the creator's will was already done.

  50

  Adrian pushed on through the basement, racing as fast as he could with Jack and Reid keeping pace beside him. He gripped the nozzle of the weapon in his hands as Jack held on to the tank, each of them linked together via the connecting tubing.

  Adrian heard the sloshing of liquid within the metal tank as they moved, but it sounded alarmingly low.

  But that could well be the least of their worries.

  Behind them, the rampaging sounds of hell bore down, led by those booming footsteps from the behemoth. It let out a roar of pure rage, gaining ground with every moment. Adrian was also able to hear the screeches and howls of other abominations that followed in the titan’s wake.

  Adrian tried to keep his focus up ahead, on the door to the chamber at the end of the passageway.

  The one that supposedly housed the body of Robert Wilson—the vessel behind all of this.

  The door had already been pulled wide open, looking slightly bent and twisted. Whatever had gained entry into that place before them had obviously not been gentle in doing so.

  Which presented another problem.

  Once they were inside, how would they then buy the time to do what needed to be done? He could only hope that they would be able to force the door shut and somehow keep it closed long enough to burn the body inside to cinders before the legions of hell poured in behind them.

  And given the strength of the behemoth alone—even ignoring the combined might of the other creatures—he did not think the odds were close to being in their favour.

  Yet they had nothing left to do but try.

  And so they ran, harder, with the deafening chaos pursuing them from behind.

  Gaining and gaining and gaining.

  Adrian’s thighs and calves burned and his chest ached, his body begging him to stop, close to exhaustion. Jack, to his right, was cumbersome in his movements, but had a longer stride so was able to keep up. In fact, Adrian thought the larger man was holding himself back to let Adrian keep pace with him. And Dr. Reid, to his credit, was actually pulling ahead.

  ‘When you get through,’ Adrian wheezed, ‘pull that damn door shut after us.’

  But he wasn’t sure if Reid heard him at all. The man looked absolutely petrified. His face was a mask of terror, wide eyes focused on the door ahead.

  Adrian didn’t have the breath in him to tell Reid again, so just concentrated on pushing himself harder, praying he didn’t trip and fall.

  Boom, boom, boom.

  The behemoth closed in.

  Please, please, please. Let us make it, Adrian pleaded to any god that would listen.

  Well, perhaps not any god.

  The doorway grew closer, painfully so.

  They were going to make it through, but Adrian didn’t think they would have time to force that door shut.

  ‘We’re going to be killed,’ Dr. Reid panted, almost crying.

  He crossed the threshold, followed by Adrian as the titanic demon closed in behind. Adrian was about to stop and look back when he felt something push him farther into the room. In the same moment, he saw the tank of the weapon fly past him and hit the floor with a loud clank.

  As he fell, Adrian turned to see that it was not the creature that had nudged him, but Jack.

  The towering man had made sure Adrian and Reid made it through and was now forcing the door shut… from the other side.

  ‘End it,’ he said, his voice—the first time Adrian had heard it—soft and gentle.

  But as big as Jack was, the sight behind him positively dwarfed him. Adrian could only watch as Jack gave a mighty strain and was able to press the door closed.

  Adrian had no time to process what was happening, and he spun around, still gripping the nozzle of the weapon. As he turned, he saw that Reid was huddled into one corner of the flesh covered room, looking horrified.

  ‘Wha—’ Adrian stopped as he felt something wrap around his leg. He looked down to see a vine of black and purple, lined with small teeth, take hold of his calf. He grunted as he felt the teeth penetrate his skin. Adrian was then pulled to the ground and dragged forwards by the writhing tentacle, to a large, man-sized growth that lay close to the body, the one he presumed to be Robert Wilson. It had not escaped Adrian’s notice that this body was almost lost in the mass of fleshy growths that surrounded it. The vine continued to pull him in, towards the large sack, and Adrian felt the nozzle slip from his hand.

  ‘Help!’ he screamed over to Reid, but the man seemed paralysed with fear. Adrian then heard a sickening shriek from outside of the room and, in short order, the door began to open.

  ‘Welcome, my child,’ a voice said, coming from the open mouth of Robert Wilson. ‘I look forward to tasting your pain. I will make sure you get what you desire. Your mother will be pleased.’

  ‘Reid!’ Adrian cried out. ‘Please!’

  But the coward did not listen.

  Jack knew that they would not all make it out of this alive. Even if they reached the room that his friend Adrian was heading towards, the monsters that he did not understand—things that terrified him—were too close and too powerful.

  So Jack knew what he had to do.

  He was sad and didn’t want to die, but he knew that, eventually, everyone had to leave this life behind.

  Just like the man he had killed four years ago.

  Jack had been locked up for that, and the director had found him in prison, miserable and alone. He’d offered Jack a chance to stay somewhere better. More comfortable.

  But he had lied.

  However, Jack knew he did not deserve any better. The man that he’d strangled was mean, and had continually harassed and teased Jack, but hadn’t deserved to be killed.

  Jack had let himself down.

  He didn’t like being violent.

  And yet, he had killed someone.

  So, he decided that while he stayed at the asylum, he would keep quiet and keep his head down.

  It was an added bonus that he had actually made friends. They had all been as troubled and sad as he was, but that was somethin
g they’d had in common. And Adrian James had always been kind to him.

  Adrian was a nice man, Jack thought, and as they raced through that passageway, Jack decided that Adrian deserved to live. He was smart enough to perhaps put an end to this madness that was spreading.

  And Jack didn’t think he could do that himself.

  But he could help.

  So he had pushed Adrian through the doorway and hurled the metal container he was carrying into the room with him.

  Then he had pulled the door closed and given Adrian a message.

  It was the first time he had let himself speak in years, the last time being when he screamed in the man’s face as he had strangled the life from him four years ago.

  Jack then turned around to face what was coming for him and saw that they were closer than he expected.

  And that massive, monstrous thing reached him first. Jack linked his arms through the metal handles on the doors and closed his eyes.

  He knew this would hurt.

  But he didn’t realise just how much.

  He felt the thing grab him by the throat. Jack’s eyes opened instinctively, and he looked all the way up to the face of this monster that snarled down at him. He saw it bring its other arm back, then swing it forward into his gut.

  Through his gut.

  He felt the thick, muscular arm push its way through his stomach, snapping his spine, into the door behind.

  Jack screamed. The pain was horrible.

  Blood ran from his mouth. He knew he was going to die.

  Still, he kept his arms linked through the handles of the doors. He needed to give Adrian more time.

  He started to sob.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he repeated over and over again, to no one in particular, gurgling as he did. Jack knew he deserved this for killing that man.

  And he was sorry for it.

  The beast before him pulled its arm from his guts as the lesser creatures jumped and moved impatiently behind it.