Urban Gothic

by Brian Keene

  How could he have been so careless? So callous?

  Realizing what was happening, Javier pushed away the thoughts. He did not have time for self-loathing. The recriminations and guilt could come later. If he was going to escape this place, he had to get his head back in the game. He needed to stay psyched. He checked himself over, making sure that the cuts on his wrists were still clotted and not bleeding. He was satisfied with what he saw. He still needed medical attention, but he wouldn’t bleed out. His swollen lip had stopped bleeding, too. He’d live.

  But for how long?

  Javier rose carefully from his spot behind the boulder and moved slowly toward the soft breeze. The air was mostly still, and the breeze was easily lost if he moved too quickly. He assumed it might lead to a way out. He needed to know. If so, then he’d have two choices—escape and go for help, or plunge deeper into the catacombs, find Heather, Kerri, and Brett, and then, with the girls and Brett in tow, hope to hell he could find the exit again and get them all to safety. But what if they were still all split up? Or what if one of them had been captured? That would make things even more difficult.

  The unidentifiable smell grew stronger, as did the breeze. He felt around in the darkness and soon discovered a new passageway. It was carefully concealed, a simple wooden door that slotted into runners. The handiwork was the same as in the house above. Further exploration with his fingertips told him that the door had been covered with mud to help conceal it. The breeze was drifting out of a gap at the top.

  What’s behind door number one, he wondered. Their warren? Pens for their prisoners? The subway, maybe, or some stairs to the surface?

  There was only one way to find out. Working as quietly as possible, Javier pushed. The door slid into its recess to the right. The faint breeze grew much stronger, nearly blasting out of the open space. The mysterious scent became more obvious. There was water nearby, and judging by the strength of the smell, a great deal of it. Not chlorinated, processed water, but an earthy, more primordial aroma, the way a lake smelled when you got close to it. That was exactly what it reminded him of. Brett’s father had once taken Javier, Brett, and Tyler on a weekend fishing trip to Raystown Lake. It had smelled just like this. He wondered what lay up ahead. Runoff from the Delaware, perhaps, or even from the sewers—trickling down into the caverns and condensing, forming an underground pond or lake. If so, what might be lurking around that watering hole? Still, he had to go somewhere. He couldn’t just stand here in the dark and wait for Scug or one of the others to find him. There were the girls to think about.

  And his own survival.

  Javier stepped through the threshold and slid the door closed behind him. He shuffled along the corridor for a few minutes, the fingers of one hand trailing along the wall. He heard the sound of running water, faint but distinct. Then he paused, staring with his mouth agape. He squinted in disbelief. There was a light up ahead, weak and wavering, but there just the same. He approached it cautiously, and with each step, his surroundings became clearer.

  Unlike the previous area, this section was obviously manmade. He was in a wide concrete access corridor that opened into an even larger sewer tunnel. He approached the opening and stared. A thin river of water ran along the curved bottom of the larger tunnel. He was surprised by the strength of the flow. It moved swiftly, surging out of sight into the shadows at the end of the tunnel, yet, despite its speed, the river flowed quietly, almost whispering. Javier licked his parched lips and considered drinking from it. He was so thirsty.

  He knelt by the river and cupped the water in his hands, sniffing it experimentally. It looked okay. Then he saw the tiny, almost invisible tadpoles squirming in it. They reminded him of sperm. Thirsty as he was, Javier had no intention of consuming tadpoles. He had no idea what they were, but guessed that they were parasites of some kind. Last thing he needed was a family of them swimming around in his intestines. Choking in disgust, he emptied his hands and wiped them on his pants. His thirst was momentarily forgotten.

  Javier turned his gaze upward, searching for the source of the light, and gasped again. There were several crude dwellings above the river, each built into the upper curve of the massive concrete tunnel, pushed out from the edges like giant wasp nests, suspended over the water and clustered together with little apparent care. They were fashioned from mud and wood and other debris. He stared at the structures with a mixed sense of dread and wonder. They didn’t look like they could possibly be secure in their positions, and yet they were. Above the huts were seemingly endless strings of Christmas lights. Some of them blinked and twinkled. Others burned steadily, almost ominously. They ran through the walls of the hovels and were strung over various pipes and conduits. There were also several yellowed lights that had probably been placed by the sewer system’s original builders, but only a few of them still functioned and the light they gave off was feeble at best.

  Javier shook his head and stepped back a pace, crouching in the shadows. There might be a way out through the sewer tunnel, but could he risk being seen by whatever might be inside the huts suspended above him?

  Do I really have a choice?

  He glanced back up the tunnel to the point high above where the water washed down into the area from a hole in the wall. The pipes leading up to the hole were too steep for him to climb, and covered with slime and fungus. No way could he scale them. Even if he could manage to get to the top without slipping, the hole’s opening was too small for him to fit through. Javier shuddered, imagining getting stuck in the fissure, waiting for Scug, Noigel, and the other cannibals to show up and gnaw on his legs. It was possible that Kerri or Heather could fit through the opening, but even then, there was the problem of actually reaching it without falling.

  He turned in the other direction and watched the river disappear into the shadows. The tunnel was dark down there. He wondered if the creatures had removed the lights on purpose, or if they’d simply burned out over time. The water had to go somewhere, true enough, but there was no promise that it was an actual escape route. What if the river plunged further into the bowels of the earth, or what if it deposited him right into the hands of more of these things, or into some kind of sewage tank?

  “Damn it.”

  Javier eyed the nests. If they were occupied, their inhabitants must be sleeping or oblivious to his presence. He decided to search for the girls, bring them back to this location, and then try the river. It wasn’t very deep and looked easy enough to navigate. If it led them somewhere they didn’t want to go, they could always wade out.

  Above him, something coughed. He ducked into the shadows and watched as a shape stepped from the opening of a suspended hovel. Javier caught a quick glimpse of filthy skin, and then the creature vanished back inside. He froze, his muscles tensed, wondering if the thing had seen him. If so, it gave no indication. There was no cry of alarm. No horde of mutants came charging forward. Breathing a sigh of relief, Javier turned and started back into the depths of the maintenance corridor, heading back the way he had come. Something squeaked in the darkness. He jumped. A small, furry form scurried along in front of him. Relief washed over him. It was just a rat. Javier grinned. His stomach growled again.

  “You better get out of here, dude. If they don’t eat you, I just might.”

  As if in response, the rat paused, turned its head toward him, and stood up on its hind legs. It batted its forepaws at him, baring its teeth. The animal’s eyes glittered in the darkness.

  “Go on,” Javier said. “Scat!”

  He stomped his foot. Instead of running, the rat charged him. Before he could move, it had sunk its teeth into his shoe. Shouting, Javier kicked it into the air. It slammed into the wall, slid to the floor, and then sprang up and ran away. Javier stood there, panting. Too late, he realized that his cry was echoing down the tunnel.

  Then the echoes were answered by other cries. Behind him, a chorus of howls and screeches erupted from the nests.

  “Oh, shit!”

&n
bsp; Javier moved faster, not running—he didn’t want his footfalls to give his exact location away—but jogging back toward the door. He slid it open, hurried back into the cavern, and then shut the door behind him, muffling the onrushing creatures’ frantic cries. The sounds still carried, though, echoing down the corridor behind the door. Javier plunged into the darkness, arms outstretched in front of him, wondering once more how the hell he was going to find the girls and Brett under such conditions. How large was the network of basements, caverns and tunnels? How deep into the earth did they go? How far did they travel? Was it possible that he could run far enough to wind up under his home back in East Petersburg without ever surfacing?

  “Shit, shit, shit . . .”

  Tight bands of fear cinched around his chest and for a brief moment, Javier thought he might be having a heart attack. He stopped, bent over, and took deep breaths until the feeling had passed. Then he straightened up again and quickly took stock of his environment. Even though it was dark, he knew which direction he’d come from and where he could go, at least to a limited extent. He knew there were probably more hidden passages out there. There could be any number of camouflaged entrances to other tunnels and other nightmares. Each step in a new direction increased his chances of stumbling across one and encountering whatever lurked inside. But if he was going to succeed in finding Heather, Kerri, and Brett, then he had to risk it. They weren’t in any of the places he’d already checked.

  And there were things in here with him. Maybe human, maybe not. He wasn’t sure anymore. But they ate humans, whatever they were.

  For a brief moment, he considered just forgetting about Heather and the others, and getting out while he still could. The thought shamed him.

  He heard the door creak open from somewhere behind him, followed by the soft, whispered patter of feet as his pursuers poured into the cave. He wondered how many there were. It was impossible to tell by sound. None of them spoke. Their cries had ceased the moment they entered the darkness.

  Holding his breath, Javier tiptoed forward. He thought about his mother. He thought about Heather. About Kerri. About Brett and Tyler and all their other friends. He thought of his teachers and the girl he’d kissed in summer camp when he was eleven and the guy he’d punched in the nose during fourth grade. He thought of everyone he’d ever known, everyone who had ever impacted his life for good or for bad. Everyone who mattered, convincing himself once again that as long as he remembered them, he wouldn’t die, because then their memories would die with him. When that didn’t work anymore, his thoughts returned to Heather. He focused on her. Summoned her in his mind, saw her face, her smile, the scattering of freckles across her nose, and felt his resolve return. He needed to find her, keep her safe. He used the goal to protect himself from the panic and fear that chewed on his mind and heart.

  Javier took four more paces and then heard them coming, spreading out all around him. It sounded like there were a lot of them. He heard claws on stone, the rustle of hair, snorted grunts and whispered sighs. Something panted nearby, close enough that he could feel its breath on his back. He stopped in midstride and held completely still. He knew that if he remained standing there, his chances of being discovered were almost absolute. One of the things would bump into him in the dark or smell him. Hear his breathing. Sneaking forward wouldn’t work, either. They’d hear his furtive footsteps, or he’d stumble on something in the darkness and they’d fall on him before he could recover.

  Steeling himself, and hoping to momentarily startle and confuse his pursuers, Javier let loose with a bellow so loud that it hurt his vocal cords, and ran straight into the blackness as fast as he could. He pushed his fears aside, shoved away visions of crashing headlong into some unseen obstruction or tumbling into some hidden hole, and charged ahead. The darkness exploded all around him with cries and howls of furious alarm. Footsteps echoed around the cavern, sounding like thunder or gunshots. Javier hoped that in all the confusion, they’d be unable to tell his sounds from their own.

  A shape leapt in front of him—a human-sized black spot against the darkness. It lunged for him, and Javier slammed his elbow into its throat as he ran by. The figure grunted and fell to the ground. Javier did not pause to see if it recovered. Instead, he ran even harder. He bit down on his swollen lip, bringing a fresh flare of pain. It spurred him on. Blood filled his mouth. His pulse raced. A stitch cut into his side, twisting and searing under his ribs. He tried to ignore the pain, and focused only on fleeing and breathing. The grunting and chattering increased, but sounded like it was behind him now. He summoned his strength and put on another burst of speed.

  In that moment, Javier again considered backtracking—sneaking around behind them and heading back into the sewers. Then he could follow the river and hopefully find the exit. He was ashamed once more at the thought, aghast that even for a second, he’d consider leaving the others behind.

  He heard something loping along beside him. Javier dodged to the right. He saw the shadowed outlines of a curved wall in front of him, but he didn’t compensate fast enough. His left shoulder scraped painfully along the rough, pitted surface and he felt his shirt tear. His skin followed suit. Javier felt a hot flare of pain, and a moment later, a warm trickle ran down his arm. He shrugged it off and plunged back into the gloom. There was no way to know how deep the scrape was or how much damage he’d done to himself, but the pain made him forget all about his plight for a second. His pursuers cried out again to remind him.

  Were they closer? He couldn’t tell for sure. They sounded closer, but the darkness and the cavern’s structure had bizarre effects on sound. Either way, this had to end soon. He couldn’t keep going on the way he was. It was either fight, hide, or die, and Javier was no longer certain he could hide without the monsters spotting him.

  That only left him two choices, and one of those choices was simply unacceptable.

  Javier looked over his shoulder and saw the shadowy forms behind him. They were, indeed, much closer.

  He spun around and charged straight at them.

  “Come on, motherfuckers!”

  He couldn’t tell how many he faced. Some ran, perhaps startled by his sudden attack. Others held their ground, waiting for him to come to them. A third group ran to meet him head-on, and Javier laughed aloud as they crashed into each other. He punched and kicked, knowing full well that the slightest pause or error would lead to his death. Despite the knowledge, he felt a certain peace of mind from the simple desire to hurt as many of them as he could before he went down.

  If he went down.

  His left fist caught one of his enemies—a female—in the side of the neck. Her breasts swayed in the darkness, brushing against him. The woman coughed violently, clutching at the spot where he’d struck. Javier barely noticed. She was merely a blur to him, a target that, once struck, was no longer important. The rest of them closed in, grasping and pushing. He shoved them away, shifted his weight and jumped high, trusting that the maneuver would throw them off guard. It did. As the creatures scattered and cried out in alarm, Javier’s heel struck bone and flesh. Something broke under his shoe. His grin grew wider. The target—male or female he could not tell—slammed into three of its fellow mutants. All four fell down, sprawling.

  Javier’s landing was not elegant, but he kept his feet and smashed his forearm into the face of the next in line, before reversing his hips and using his leverage to drive the opposite arm’s elbow into the same target. The thing did not fall, but instead grabbed Javier’s arm and bit down on the exposed flesh. Javier screamed and pulled hard, yanking his arm back and leaving a wedge of flesh in the creature’s mouth. He punched again, catching the cannibal’s nose, which snapped under the impact. Javier’s stomach churned. The pain was making him nauseous.

  His next swing missed as the shadow ducked below his fist, and then shoved forward. Male, and big, apparently, as he lifted Javier from the ground and rammed him into the cave wall. Javier’s body was pinned. He gritted his te
eth, hissing as his opponent raked its clawed fingers across his chest and ribs, scratching and slicing with the same savagery as a rabid cat. Javier drove his knee up hard into the thing’s balls, and then kneed it again as it fell backward. Javier kicked the bruiser again as he hit the ground.

  Suddenly, Javier realized that the others around him had fallen back, grunting and hooting as their larger companion rolled around on the ground. Javier’s eyes narrowed. He glanced down at his opponent. He wasn’t as big as Noigel, but his size was still ominous. As he watched, the creature staggered and then began to right itself.

  Javier paused a moment, considering the situation. His enemy was bigger, older, and much stronger. He was also influential. There was no mistaking what was occurring here. The rest of the—what? tribe? pack? whatever—were stepping back and letting the big guy take care of business. They were deferring to their leader, or at least their champion. Javier wondered where this new arrival ranked in the pecking order. Obviously, Scug was a leader of sorts. Noigel seemed feared. Who was this one, and how would the others react if he was defeated?

  In the darkness, a lantern flared. Javier squinted, shielding his eyes. His opponent chuckled. Javier dropped his hand and glared. He noticed now that his opponent was naked. The beast’s looks were apish, his eyes sunken into a doughy, pockmarked face beneath a thick brow.

  His nose was barely discernible as anything more than nostrils, and his yellowed teeth were bared in an angry leer. Javier had bested him—hurt him—and he was very obviously pissed off about it. His intent was clear. He meant to kill.

  Javier had different ideas.

  He spat blood on the ground and let the big guy come to him, steeling himself, trying to prepare himself mentally. The mutant charged. Despite the gloom, Javier saw that his head was low and his arms were out at his sides. This thing wasn’t used to prey that fought back. It had exposed itself, made itself vulnerable in an effort to look even larger than it already was.