“Quick. To the roof,” someone shouted from the stairwell.
Greg and Harry looked at one another, confused. Through all of the insanity last night, the blank-faces never uttered so much as a sound. Their ability would not be questioned, since they appeared to be human with the human anatomy, but having the mind for language would mean they had the mind for reasoning as well.
The threat of a logical enemy, one who could make deductions and calculated assumptions, would be far more dangerous than a blank-faced woman with flailing arms. This meant the Apex was more powerful as well. For the others to be unwilling to speak in his presence signified a reverence of a notably lesser species. The Apex would be even more of a force than Greg had estimated.
Echoes grew louder up the stairs, and Harry held his hatchet over the door. He looked concerned, but his hands did not shake. How long until Greg would had this kind of physical composure? His mind was sharp, but his body needed time to evolve. By the looks of it, he would be best suited to remain near Mickey and Harry until he was prepared to forcefully protect himself.
-
“Running in the hotel. See ‘em?” Ben asked. Of course Asher had seen them. Both men were operating on the same level of awareness to their surroundings. Vision in the darkness was not an issue; their ability to react to the minuscule differences in the shades of black made the hunt easy.
They walked through the giant, broken, glass window panel entering into the nicest hotel in Salt Lake City. The Grand American was highly regarded and highly expensive. The building’s energy vibrated off the ground. It was as if Asher could even hear its heartbeat and feel the pulse, not because of the others who entered the building, or anyone else for that matter, but building breathed life.
Ben had a similar feeling, “This is crazy, Ash. It’s like I’m high on peyote.”
“No time for jokes. Can you hear them?”
They walked past the dining room. Neither man thought about food since last night. Asher usually couldn’t go a few hours without at least snacking on something, on account of having a high metabolism. Now it was almost twenty-four hours since his last meal. The changes taking place in the brother's bodies was ever expanding.
The marble floor was smooth under Asher’s sneakers. Every few steps he would wait to see if someone was coming around a corner. They turned a corner into a long corridor and heard a crunch of glass behind them. Ben tried to peer around to see, but the walls did not line up well enough for him to have a good view.
More crunches started coming. Asher’s hands warmed as he heard the door to the ‘Eden Ballroom’ open. Five of the others walked out with blood stained shirts. They did not react when they saw Asher and Ben.
“Ben?”
“Eight coming the other direction. Handle those and I got ‘em,” Ben replied.
The first to move forward was a middle-aged, white man wearing a dirty dress shirt and slacks. He was barefoot, and his feet matched his shirt. The rest of the runners on Asher’s side followed his lead. Time slowed down as he prepared for the onslaught. He noticed their perfectly-unison running form and the bored expressions on their faces. They were breathing, but as they sprinted forward, their mouths remained comfortably closed.
While the first man was five or six steps away, Asher spun in a circle, hurling the blade towards the furthest away runner and immediately jumped off the ground kicking the first man in the face with the top of his right foot. The wolf’s neck cracked all along Asher’s tibia.
Asher landed on the ground and stuck his spear into three consecutive faces before any hands came within reach. The shovel reached its target, cutting off furthest runner’s head. Ben was still toying with his final opponent, and Asher pulled the spear out of its last victim and threw it into the soft confines of a heavy-set female wolf’s thigh. She didn’t look down at it or try to pull it out before Ben plowed her head with a ferocious swing of his hammer.
Ben nodded before walking back to the lobby.
-
The freaks came up the stairwell sounding like a stampede of buffalo. Harry stared at the door, waiting for it to open and…then what? Harry wasn’t strong enough to take out a dozen of them. No one was. Bigger men fought these things and were torn apart. Now he stood holding a hatchet like he had a chance.
What good was it for Harry to have lived through last night only to die on a different roof tonight? He wouldn’t just die either. It wasn’t a long leap from a tall building where you don’t know you’re dead when you land. These freaks would gut him like a fish and show him his insides first. They would get revenge on Harry for living through last night.
There had to be another way.
The stampede grew louder, making it hard to concentrate. Last night, Harry saw a tiny, old Hispanic woman bombarded by two young women with those expressionless faces. She wasn’t fun or food to them. They approached her the same way Harry approached a car at the shop: fix it and move on. They were no different than a tuned-up engine; they go because that’s what they were made to do. The stairwell echoed their train whistle, and Harry was tied to the tracks.
What do you do when a train goes rogue at high speeds? You don’t stand in front of it and hope it slows down. You change its course and wait for it at a safe distance while it runs out of juice.
“We need to hold them back!” he said to Mickey. His response was to stare back at Harry with his eyes about to pop out of his head. This expression would be burned into Harry’s memory as the reason he could never trust the mouse when the going got tough. Harry did not waste his time trying to motivate Mickey. Instead, he put his shoulder against the door and hoped he could hold it shut by himself. If they could hold them back from getting through the door, maybe another noise elsewhere would distract them away.
Greg surprisingly came forward to strengthen the barricade. His scrawny frame looked like an old, soggy piece of wood trying to hold a leaking dam. The line would be held because Harry held it, but it was a comfort to have Greg willing to help. They would hold this brown aluminum door until the hinges broke or the freaks went away. There could be no giving up.
They were close now, maybe a few floors away. With so many runners, it was hard to tell how many. It could be a dozen, or it could be a hundred. There were too many either way. Mickey stood close by, hollow, like a fool. The young man pretended to be strong and ready, but now his true colors were out of the bag.
The first body slammed into the other side of the door. Harry could feel its body heat through the steel as the knob twisted rapidly. They must have been confused as to why it didn’t work. How did they know of their presence on the roof? Could they smell them? Did they have some kind of sixth sense?
The handle shook wildly. The muffled noises sounded like people whispering.
The sky darkened when the freaks were able to crack open the door. They were pushing in unison, working together as a team. Greg’s brittle arms shook, but his focus remained. Harry appreciated his attempt to be strong. These two men would be bound forever. Greg proved brave, as opposed to the sturdy waste of muscle found on Mickey.
They wouldn’t be able to hold like this all night, even if Mickey found courage. The other side was a pack of insane freaks looking to get their first kill of the night. They wanted death more than Harry wanted life.
That wasn’t true. Not one bit. Harry would prove it. He had to.
Greg ran from his position.
He took off without warning in the farthest corner of the roof. Harry could no longer see him.
Another push from the freaks caused the door to open about six inches. Harry found a crevice in the ground and used it to help when he pushed with all of his might back against the door. It shut but only for a second. A hand reached out from the door and scratched Harry’s face. It was a woman with long fingernails screaming at him and trying to break onto the roof. Blood ran down his cheek as he slammed the door and shouted at Mickey, “I need you. I can’t do this alone!” Mickey stepped c
loser, but a single step did nothing but make the confused look on his face appear even more frustrating. “Come on boy!”
Another roof on another night, this time with real demons at his door. No one to help. The smart one ran away, and the strong one was too big of a coward. He would die on this roof alone with two people who did not have the drive to survive. The freaks were driven, though. Their furious charge on the door accompanied the sounds of their cries of desperation.
Harry could hear Greg return behind him. He spoke, but Harry couldn’t hear him. It was like his head was underwater while Greg tried to carry on a conversation. Greg must have understood this as he stopped talking and shoved a long metal pipe on the ground and against the door. “We’re going to use this as a wedge. Keep holding the line. There are five more back here,” Greg said before taking off back into the night.
Harry could do that. He could and he would. They were going to make it through the night.
-
The noisy screech of the basement door woke Jenna. She tasted the dried blood on her split lip. Her jaw was stiff and swollen. The ties around her wrists and ankles felt more comfortable than earlier, maybe because the rest of her felt so uncomfortable. When did she fall back asleep? Did Toppy hit her again? How long had she been out? She heard the big beast lumber down the steps grunting.
He’s back. This time he's not going away.
She had to think about her dream. Focusing on Toppy would give Jenna a nervous breakdown, but the dream would give her hope. The dream was real. The girl was real. She was coming too. She might not have said it, but Jenna knew it in her heart. The girl was coming to save her.
Toppy ignored her with a grunt and eased himself down on a stool beside her. He faced away from her like a moody child. All she could see was his big figure in the darkness and smell his odor. He smelled like copper and old shoes. Jenna could taste it.
He’s still alive. If the dream was real, why isn’t he dead?
“I protected you,” he said, still not facing her. “Those people wanted to come down here and hurt you, but I didn’t let them. The little Asian tried to kill you. She let them in, but I wouldn’t let her hurt my girl. No. No.” His breathing built up to a frantic pace. The smell emitted from him even grew stronger too. The sound of him licking his lips proceeded him saying, “She’s out there somewhere, the little one. I’ll get her tomorrow and keep you safe. I love you.”
He stood now over her and brought his big face right by hers. In the darkness, she could see the dark blood stains along his cheeks and down the side of his neck. His dirty apron was almost completely black. His sweaty fingers stroked her cheek as he said, “Jenny, I’m here now. You don’t need to be afraid anymore. I will keep you safe.” His words were recited, like he was reading them off a sheet of paper.
She replied, “I don’t want you to keep me safe.” The words barely escaped her trembling lips, “I don’t. Please. Let me go.”
He continued playing with her cheek, caressing her with her fingers. “It’s not about what you want, honey. It’s about what you need. Toppy’s not going anywhere, and no matter what, you’re mine. Always. Forever. Lionel Richie, 1975. I know we started out rocky, but I will forgive you if you forgive me.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. The rocky ridges of his lips gave her the urge to dry heave.
It was just a dream. No one is coming to save you. Robert was a figment of your imagination caused by your guilt of abandoning him.
Then what about the girl? Who was she? She had nothing to do with Robert. You can’t dream about people you’ve never seen, and she had never seen the girl before. She really would come to save her and Toppy was going to die down here.
No he isn’t. You’re his pet. Roll over and play dead.
Toppy said, “Listen to me! You are going to stay here. You are mine. You are my wife. Those bees can’t buzz like me, but they will sting you. Do you want that?” He pulled his stool close to her and sat down. Toppy put two fingers under her chin and forced her head up. “OBEY,” he shouted.
The basement door slammed loud like a gunshot. Toppy turned, giving Jenna a view of three intruders. He shouted, “More! You want more! King bee stings more!”
Jenna screamed, “Kill him! Kill him you monsters!” Toppy had brought enough pain to Jenna in the few hours she had known him. He was a freak, a horrible person, and he deserved to die. Jenna wanted it so bad. She was no longer afraid of the monsters, not until they charged at her.
She saw the dark beads of a monster’s eyes before Toppy wrapped his arm around its waist, catching the monster in mid-air, and throwing him into the top shelf on the wall. The next monster moved too fast for Toppy to grab and tackled Jenna to the ground. The chair made the fall awkward. Something hard dug into her hip and she cried out in pain. The cry was silenced when the monster punched her in the stomach.
Toppy was pulling the monster off of her, but it would not stop. Jenna could feel fingernails tearing at her shoulders and down her chest. Sweaty hands slid down her jeans as it tried to hold on while Toppy pulled it away. Then, she felt its mouth rest on her right knee. It was moist and sloppy. There was no time to feel grossed out. It teeth latched down below her knee cap and broke through her skin. The searing pain made her cry out louder.
“See, Jenny! Is this what you want?” Toppy shouted with the other two monsters on his back, attacking him like two boys playing with their dad. He pulled the monster away as its clamped jaw removed a chunk of flesh from her shin.
Toppy stomped on its head, creating a mushed splotch on the basement floor. The smell of rot already filled the room and mixed with Toppy's coppery, body odor. Jenna could not see them clearly; two smaller figures blended in and out with one very large, black shadow. The sounds of broken bones and blood spurts were loud enough to drown out her cries from the bite to her knee. They bit her. Would she change?
You’re going to be one of them now, Jenna.
“Are you going to obey now? I love you, Jenny.” The final monster stopped moving. Toppy lifted her up, still tied to the chair as the blood from his neck ran down onto her. He was bleeding a lot.
He’s going to bleed out. You’re going to turn into a monster.
He wiped off his bloody hands onto his pant leg and said, “There, there. Loving a man like me has its benefits. That was a good sandwich, right?” Licked lips. Ugly smile. Missing a tooth. “Besides…”
Toppy’s body fell to the ground in a wet, floppy thud.
Jenna stared, shocked.
Was he? Is he?
He was dead at her feet.
“Sorry I took so long.”
It was Edie Nguyen, Hotel Accommodations Expert extraordinaire, holding an ice pick. “Edie! Oh my, Edie! Thank you! Thank you!” Jenna was still tied up, otherwise she would have hugged the life out of beautiful Edie.
Edie quickly cut her loose, and the new best friends embraced. “I told you he was dangerous.” Toppy’s body jerked and more blackness spilled onto the basement floor. “Gross. Super Gross,” Edie said, pointing like teenage girl.
Whatever was trying to break through the door was worse than what Greg or Harry described. They made it sound like super-fast zombies from that one movie. No one ever said there could be crazy zombies who spoke and tried to trick you. This was a different kind of zombie, one with potential to persuade you to open the door and let it eat your face. Mickey was not expecting it, and so yeah, he froze.
Mickey wasn’t someone who choked under pressure. He was the guy who made the game winning shot and walk off homer. He was clutch. He was a gamer.
This was not a game, however. Those people were crying and begging, thrashing and screaming, and making noises Mickey didn’t even know people could make. Earlier today, he had been afraid of jail, but now he knew real fear. It was deeper than guilt and shame; this feeling changed the way your body worked and made your brain go into a zone Mickey didn’t even know existed. Mickey didn’t ‘get in the zone’ like he could on the baseb
all diamond. He got in a twilight zone. It was like being in one of those dreams when you are falling, only he was standing at the scene of the crash, fallen.
The cold wind was cool on Mickey’s cheeks. Even now, after the rush of the freaks stopped banging into the fortified door, Mickey’s fear remained. Harry said something to him about being a coward and a punk, but Mickey was too busy listening to other side of the door. If they would come back, would they be able to break through? Maybe they could crawl up the sides of the building.
Harry already was harassing Mickey about his fear getting the best of him. No matter how unfair it was, Mickey would have to swallow the bitter pill. Harry and Greg were discussing, ‘the plan,’ while watching the door. Neither man acted like Mickey was even alive anymore.
Mickey wasn’t crying about the guys acting this way nor was he scared. He was staring so hard, and the wind was blowing into his eyes caused him to tear up a little. He smeared them away before Harry noticed. It was clearer up here than it was down on the ground. You could see facial expressions up close because the moonlight in the fog made for a very bright night.
Greg handed over a breakfast bar towards him. “Momentary paralysis is a common symptom of shock, and shock is a symptom of…”
“Being a mouse,” Harry interrupted. “You had the chance and chose to be a little mouse, boy. You swung that bat like a champ only you ain’t ready for the big leagues. You’re lucky Greggy here was so fast thinking, otherwise I would have let them rip your face off. How does it feel to be a bigger coward than a beanpole with a broken face?”
Greg winced, but Harry’s words were true. He was right, but that didn’t mean Greg needed to be a target.
“There are the freaks, there are the weak, and there are the men willing to stand in between. You showed yourself as nothing more than a mouse, mouse.”
Dark Genesis (Shadow and Shine Book 1) Page 10
