by Brian Keene
With a cry, Javier jerked the nail out. Part of the midget’s jaw and throat came with it. The skin stretched, and beneath it, muscle and gristle ripped and snapped. Blood gushed from the gaping wound. The intruder’s eyes opened wide with shock. Dropping the knife, he brought his hands to his ruined throat. Blood jetted out across his fists and ran down his stubby forearms. He squawked, then toppled backward. Emitting choking noises, the midget jittered and shook on the floor. Blood continued to pump from the wound.
Heather and Kerri continued to scream.
Javier let the club drop to the floor. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and turned to the girls.
“Shut up!”
Grimacing, he bent over and grabbed the midget’s feet. The dead man wore no shoes. The bottom of one grimy foot was covered with thick yellow calluses. The other foot was terribly malformed—more of a withered stump than an appendage. His skin felt rough and flaky. His ankles were covered with scabs and insect bites. His legs twitched in Javier’s grip. The midget uttered one last warbling cough, and then he was still. The stench roiling off his unwashed body was revolting. Turning away, Javier dragged the corpse into the room. He let the legs flop to the floor, then shut the door again—leaving it slightly cracked so that a thin sliver of light crept into the room.
“It’s okay,” he whispered to the girls. “He’s dead.”
There was a rustling in the shadows as Heather and Kerri crawled forward. Javier pulled out his cell phone again and opened it. He aimed it at the midget and took a picture. All three of them blinked at the flash.
“What are you doing?” Heather asked.
Javier shrugged. “Evidence. I’m documenting everything.”
“Why?”
“So that when we get out of here, I can show the police.”
Kerri stared down at the corpse. “You killed him.”
“Yeah,” Javier said. “I did. And please don’t give me any shit about it right now. He wanted to cut my fucking dick off. Not to mention that—”
“No,” Kerri broke in. “That’s not what I was going to say. I’m not arguing with you. But this isn’t the guy who killed Tyler and Steph. This is someone different. That means there’s more than one.”
The three teens stared at each other.
“H-how many?” Heather thrust an index finger into her mouth and began gnawing on the nail. As if in answer, another set of footsteps shuffled down the hall. The approaching gait was much stealthier than the midget’s had been.
And much faster.
Javier scooped up the knife and ducked behind the door. Kerri grabbed the club and flattened herself against the wall where Javier had previously been positioned. Heather melted back into the shadows.
Outside in the hall, the footsteps paused, then continued. Javier pressed his ear to the wall, listening. They paused again.
Somebody’s checking the doors, Javier thought. His muscles tensed. His palms grew damp with sweat. He tightened his grip on the knife handle and tried to remain still.
The footsteps continued down the hall, louder now. Then they paused again. The light shining into the room from underneath the door flickered. Then the door opened. An inch. Then two. Javier heard heavy, panicked breathing. The door opened a few more inches, and Javier flattened himself against the wall, holding his breath and sucking his stomach in so the door wouldn’t hit him. He had the sudden urge to piss. Javier gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it. He contemplated slamming the door shut on the intruder, but that would just leave them trapped inside. Better to let the lurker enter the room completely, and then creep up behind them and slit his throat. Javier could see it all in his head. The brutality didn’t shock him. Although he was scared, he had no qualms about the killings. This was survival. It was no different than a video game, except that now, if he died, he died for real.
With the door open, light flowed into the room, stretching across the floor. As the door reached farther. Alarmed, Javier realized that he could see both Heather and the dead midget’s feet.
So could the figure in the doorway, because the heavy breathing turned into a gasp
The intruder said, “Heather?”
Before Javier could register that the intruder knew Heather’s name, he lunged forward, slamming the door into his opponent. He pushed with all his weight, knocking the figure to the floor. The intruder grunted. Kerri charged out of the shadows, the club held over her head.
Before she could swing it, Heather shouted, “No!”
“Jesus Christ, you guys,” the figure on the floor moaned. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Gaping, Javier and Kerri stared down at Brett.
“Holy shit,” Javier said. “You okay?” Heather crawled out of the shadows, and Kerri lowered her weapon while Javier stuck out his hand and helped Brett to his feet.
“You okay?” he asked again.
Brett nodded. “I will be. Knocked the wind out of me.”
“Sorry about that. We thought you were one of them.”
Brett’s eyes widened in surprise. “You guys have seen them, too? The guy wearing a woman’s skin?
“We killed one.” Javier pointed. “Some kind of deformed dwarf.”
Brett walked over to the corpse, stared down at it, and shivered.
“No,” he said. “This isn’t one of the ones I saw.”
While he told them about Noigel and the other killer who’d been wearing a suit made out of a dead woman’s skin, Kerri shut the door again. They huddled closer together in the darkness, whispering to one another.
“So you heard him say they’re hunting us?” Javier asked.
Nodding, Brett removed his glasses and wiped the lenses on his shirt. Then he put them back on and pushed them up with his index finger.
“How many?”
“I don’t know,” Brett said. “He mentioned something about more of them being down below, too.”
“A basement?”
Brett shrugged. “I guess. He mentioned that it was the only way out. We were in such a hurry when we broke in here, and it was dark out there. I didn’t notice if this place had any basement windows or not. Did any of you guys?”
Kerri and Heather shook their heads. Javier cleared his throat and then checked his cell phone again, hoping for a signal. There was still nothing. He cursed softly in Spanish.
“Do you still have your phone?” he asked Brett.
“Yeah, but there’s no service in this place. It’s like they’re blocking it or something.”
“So what do we do now?” Kerri asked.
Javier realized that they were all staring at him. Somehow he’d become the leader. He reached out, pulled Heather toward him, and held her close. He kissed her forehead.
“How’s your foot? Can you walk?”
“Yeah, it’s better.”
“Hang on a second,” he told the group, and then walked over to the corner. Shivering, Javier pulled down his zipper, freed his penis, and aimed for the wall. The others couldn’t see him in the darkness, but he knew they could hear him, because he heard Kerri make a disgusted sound a second later. Javier shook himself, zipped up, and returned to the group.
“Did you really have to do that here?” Brett asked.
“Yeah, I did. And while I did, I was thinking. We can’t go out the way we came in. Obviously, we need to find another way out of here. I don’t know about heading down into the basement, though. They get us down there and we might be cornered. Maybe we should look for a back door or an upstairs window.”
“The upstairs windows are probably blocked off, too,” Brett said.
“Maybe,” Javier agreed. “But we don’t know for sure. Fact is, we don’t know shit, and we’re gonna continue to not know shit until we leave this room and find out for ourselves.”
“You don’t have to be a dick about it.”
“Yeah, Brett, actually, I do. Because it’s your fucking fault we’re in here in the first place.”
“Dude, maybe it hasn’t occurred to you, but I just saw my girlfriend’s brains get bashed out all over the fucking place!”
Javier edged closer to him. “Which wouldn’t have happened if—”
Heather patted Javier’s shoulder. “That’s not helping.”
“We could just stay in here,” Kerri suggested. “Hide. It’s dark in here. Those lights out in the hall don’t penetrate that far into the room. We could stay against the back wall and hide until someone rescues us.”
Javier paused before replying, choosing his words carefully. “Listen. We’re on our own here. Nobody knows where we are. Our folks are all sleeping. Chances are they won’t even notice that we’re missing until tomorrow morning. We might not have that long. We can’t rely on anyone else. We have to rely on ourselves.”
“But the gangbangers,” Kerri protested. “Somebody must have called the cops when they chased us. Somebody will notice Tyler’s car.”
“I doubt it. The car is probably stripped by now. And I don’t think this is the sort of neighborhood where people call the cops right away. We’ve wasted enough time. While we stand here arguing, they could be coming down the hall. Everybody find a weapon—anything at all—and then let’s get the hell out of here.”
They quickly searched the room. In addition to Javier’s knife and Kerri’s makeshift club, Brett found a long, jagged shard of broken glass. He tore off a small strip of his shirt and wrapped it around the shard to avoid cutting his fingers. Then he clutched it like a dagger. Heather found a brick. She carried it daintily, as if unsure what to do with it.
“If they attack us,” Javier told her, smiling, “sneak up behind the motherfuckers and bash them on the head.”
Nodding, she returned his smile. Her expression quickly faltered.
“Come here.” He pulled her close again and kissed her forehead. “Listen. It’s gonna be okay. I’ll get us out of here.”
“I know. I believe you.”
“Your foot gonna be okay to walk?”
“I think so.”
“Then let’s go.”
He listened at the door. Determining that the hallway was deserted, Javier opened the door and, after one glance back at the dead midget, he led them out into the light.
Heather squeezed her boyfriend’s hand as they crept down the hall, deeper into the house. Despite everything that had happened, she felt amazingly calm now. Having Javier beside her was the reason. His presence was soothing. In truth, she’d been surprised at the change that had seemed to overcome him in the last hour. Although decisive, Javier was usually the quietest member of their group and rarely made the decisions. He’d always just gone along with whatever everyone else decided—usually Tyler. He’d been the same way in his relationship with her. He usually deferred to whatever she wanted.
But now . . . Heather wondered if she was finally seeing the real Javier. Confident. In control.
She thought about the way he’d killed the dwarf. He’d seemed emotionless, like a man taking out the trash or performing some other menial, everyday task. Some of that could probably be chalked up to shock, but still—it was a little disconcerting. While it was true that the little man would have probably killed them, Javier’s actions had seemed so sudden. Perfunctory. It was a little scary. And yet his presence here was soothing at the same time. She knew that the conflicting emotions made no sense, but she couldn’t help it.
What was even scarier was that it had turned her on.
Not that she’d ever admit it to her friends. Not even to Javier. What would they think of her? Heather wasn’t even sure what to think of herself. Steph and Tyler had been dead less than an hour, and here she was, on the run from the killers inside an abandoned house—and horny.
Javier released Heather’s hand and slipped away, tiptoeing down the hall and motioning at the three of them to stay where they were. Heather chewed her bottom lip and watched him go. She felt bad. While not fighting (it was impossible to really fight with Javier because he always let her have her way), she’d been giving him the silent treatment off and on for the last few days, even when they were hanging together and with the gang. Recently, he’d been bringing up the future, asking her what it held for them—indeed, wondering if there would even be a “them.” She wanted different things than he did, and no matter how many times she told him that, Javier didn’t seem to understand. Was it right? No. Was she probably being a bitch? Yes. Did it matter? No. What was the point if she couldn’t be with a person who wanted the same things?
None of which meant a damned thing now. Not in this place.
Jesus, Heather thought. I’m a fucking mess. I’m scared. I’m soothed. I’m horny. I don’t know what the hell I am.
Heather heard Kerri sniffle. She turned and saw her friend wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Brett stared down the hallway in the direction they’d come from—keeping watch or trying to give Kerri her privacy. Or maybe both. Heather wasn’t sure. She put her arms around the other girl. It was all that she could think of to do. Kerri let out a snuffling, stifled moan and hugged her tightly. Kerri’s hot breaths blew against Heather’s neck.
“Shhhh. It’ll be okay. Javier will get us out of here. We just have to be brave, alright?”
Nodding, Kerri sniff ed again. Heather rocked back and forth slowly, and made placating noises until Kerri pulled away from her and straightened up again.
“Sorry,” Kerri said, wiping her nose. “Just . . . seeing you and Javier together . . . it made me think about Tyler . . .”
Heather wasn’t sure what to say, so she didn’t respond.
Javier motioned at them to come ahead. They crept through an open door and into another hallway. This one ran in the opposite direction of the previous passageway. Like the other, it was illuminated with a string of bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling.
Heather glanced in each direction and whispered, “Which way?”
Shrugging, Javier pointed with the knife to the right. They started in that direction. Javier went first, followed by Heather, then Kerri. Brett brought up the rear. Javier held the knife out in front of him. The lights glinted off the blade. Heather shifted the brick from one hand to the other. It was heavy, and her arms were beginning to ache. Plus, the hard, rough surface was giving her blisters. Heather noticed that Kerri allowed the club to dangle at her side, as if she’d forgotten she was carrying it.
“Um, guys?”
Brett’s voice trembled. They turned and noticed that he’d stopped a few feet behind them.
“Where did we come in?”
“Out front?” Kerri sounded confused.
“No,” Brett said. “I mean this hallway. Where’s the door we just came through?”
“Right behind you . . .” Javier’s voice trailed off as he gaped. Heather was about to tell him that he needed to quit blaming Brett for their predicament and quit being so short with him—but instead, her attention was drawn to the spot where they’d come in.
“See?” Brett pointed. Instead of an open doorway leading out into the previous corridor, there was now a wall. “The door’s gone.”
“What the fuck?” Javier whispered.
Heather heard real fear in his voice this time, and for a second, she thought it might be Javier’s turn to start crying. Instead, he strode toward the new wall.
“Doors don’t just get up and walk away.” Javier knocked the wall with the hilt of his knife. He grunted. The others gathered around him in confusion.
“Watch our backs,” Javier told Kerri. Then he turned his attention back to the wall. He handed Heather his knife and placed both hands on the paneling. He shoved and pushed in different directions, but the slab didn’t move. Brett moved to help him, but Javier waved him away.
“It ain’t budging,” he whispered. “It’s a trapdoor of some kind.”
“But why would they only seal off this end?” Brett asked.
“To keep us heading forward, maybe? An ambush?”
Heather push
ed past both of them and ran her hand over the wall. It wasn’t plaster or paint or even wallpaper. It was solid wood—smooth, like a tabletop.
Or a coffin lid, she thought.
Heather squatted and let her hands run along the surface until she found the floor. She felt the edge of the wooden surface there. The wall had slid in front of the door—quietly enough that none of them had heard it.
She stood back up again. Brett and Javier were still discussing the blockade. Heather was about to suggest that instead of standing around talking about it, maybe it would be more prudent for them to hide again, but she never got the chance. As if in response to Javier’s words, the lights blinked out. Darkness engulfed them once more.
Strange, cruel laughter boomed down the hall.
Heather, Javier, Kerri and Brett screamed in unison.
The laughter grew louder, almost drowning out their cries.
NINE
As their screams echoed off the walls, the sinister laughter brayed out a third time. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the noise ceased. The sudden darkness seemed to amplify the stillness. The silence terrified Kerri even more than the laughter had.
She scuttled back down the hall, groping with one outstretched hand, and nearly tripped over Heather. Both girls squealed in fright.
“Quiet,” Javier whispered. “Listen.”
Kerri had to hand it to him. Just moments ago, when the door had disappeared, Javier had sounded as scared as the rest of them. But now, with danger once more imminent, his cool, no-nonsense demeanor had returned. He kept his voice calm. Almost detached.
“Where are they?” Brett moaned. “I don’t—”
“Everybody hold hands,” Javier interrupted. “Heather, give me the knife back, but be careful not to stick me with it.”
