After Tomorrow: A CHBB Anthology

by Samantha Ketteman

  Everything was cast in a red and brown palette, as the skylight above revealed the wash of blood that had rained on it, and the tone of the storm overhead. The ceiling lights all appeared to have failed, leaving deep recesses of shadowed and threatening areas that Nolan couldn’t see into. There was no sound other than the muffled reports of the thunder from above. He opened the door wider and looked outside, left and right.

  Two doors down, the front door of number 509 was wide open, the number facing him. As he looked, the curve of the nine glinted as a line of lightning struck nearby. It looked as though number 502 at the far end of the corridor might also be open, but from the angle Nolan stood at, he couldn’t see properly. Nothing else seemed out of place. The stairwell was unobstructed. He ducked back in and rubbed his hand on Mellissa’s arm reassuringly.

  “Seems clear. I can’t see anyone, or anything.” They both grimaced without intending to when he mentioned the latter. “Let’s head down to the stairs, and then we can either use them all the way down, or climb out onto the fire escape if the way is blocked.” Nolan didn’t want to think of what might be blocking them.

  He took a deep breath and stepped outside on the landing, out into the world from the imaginary safety of the apartment. Mellissa followed him, gripping a kitchen knife tightly in her fingers, fearfully casting her eyes about. She stifled a gasp when she saw 509. They would have to move past it to get to the stairwell.

  At least they never would have to find out about 502.

  Slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible on the carpeted floor, Nolan led his way along, ears trained for the slightest sound. The numbers on the open door floated closer and were all he could concentrate on.

  5.

  0.

  9.

  Nolan edged around the door. Still silence. Peering into the unlit room, Nolan couldn’t see anything. He tried to remember who lived there. It might have been the young couple that had just moved in a couple of weeks back, or the old man that didn’t talk to anyone, although he couldn’t recall.

  It was a bitter realisation to come to, but Nolan acknowledged that either way, he cared too much about his own skin and of Mellissa’s welfare to play hero and go inside. He kept moving, edging around the door with the bulky rucksack that he’d filled with clothes and food. Something made him look down and as soon as he did, he wished he hadn’t.

  There was a chunk of something that looked like raw meat, attached to a large splinter of bone, on the floor. Bloody purple veins shot through the exposed flesh, lending it an extremely fresh look.

  It was human-sized.

  Smudged blood trailed from it along the walkway and down the stairwell, as though that part had fallen free as the main body was dragged along the floor, into the depths. Nolan didn’t have to reach down and touch the gore to know it was wet still.

  Mellissa couldn’t stop herself. She shrieked when she saw the horrible sight, before Nolan could warn her not to look. It was one note only, and Mellissa recovered quickly, forcing her hand over her mouth as Nolan reached to do the same. They both froze, listening.

  There was only eerie silence, broken by the rumbling above. Hand still shaking, Mellissa offered an apologetic smile. Following the blood trail, they kept moving towards the stairwell, careful to avoid stepping in it. In a few short paces, they arrived at the stairs.

  Nolan looked down. He couldn’t see anything untoward. There was a bright orange glow, which suggested that the emergency lights were on downstairs, at least. Why they might have failed on the fifth floor alone made little sense.

  “Let’s head down to the next floor.”

  Mellissa nodded. About to lead, Nolan took his first step.

  There was a loud clattering from their left, in one of the rooms. It didn’t stop, the sound of somebody or something smashing a heavy object into another, over and over. Nolan didn’t intend to stay around and find out what might be making the noise. He leapt over the steps, two at a time, one hand clasped in Mellissa’s and dragging her with him like a rag doll.

  The next floor didn’t have emergency lighting on at all. The glow came from a blazing inferno at the end of the corridor, the flames eating their way along the walls and ceiling, blackening the paint and plasterboard beneath with a crackling noise. Even from some feet away the heat forced them backwards, the air thin already and becoming smoky.

  Somewhere within all the fire and smoke, something moved. Over the sound of the fire Nolan could hear groans and a tearing noise, like a cross between fabric being torn and the sound of a water balloon breaking. Whatever it was, the movement was becoming more pronounced. He backed away slowly, hand held over his mouth. Even before he had seen the figure, their way had been rendered impassable by the fire.

  “Fire escape.” Mellissa didn’t have to be told twice.

  They retraced their steps, back onto the stairwell proper. The fire escape was a rusted doorway that Nolan couldn’t remember ever having seen opened even once. The door was a simple one way opening with a bar across it on the inside.

  The bar didn’t move. Nolan frantically tried it again. It creaked, filaments of rust sliding away over the floor like fine sand. Mellissa tugged on his sleeve urgently.

  Above, the hammering stopped, and was replaced by a heavy thudding sound. Whatever it was, it was on the move. Nolan heard the sound of a door opening, hinges creaking ominously. Below them, the moaning sound grew louder. Smoke was visible in the air, the light disappearing into it.

  “Hurry!” Mellissa was terrified. She looked over the balcony, downwards, and her face turned pale, her lip quivering. Nolan didn’t dare look in that direction.

  “Please, Nolan! We need to get out, now, they’re coming!”

  Nolan threw himself at the door, shoulder first. The whole frame rattled violently, but held still. Above, the thumping footsteps stopped. Again, Nolan took a couple of paces back, and charged the door. Finally, it gave in and opened, fresh air replacing the stagnant smoke in the corridor, as the clouds sought to escape their confines and billowed out with him. Nolan’s headlong momentum almost took him over the edge of the rails on the fire escape outside, near winding him on a waist height metal bar that saved him from a long and fatal fall.

  Mellissa quickly followed him outside, still with that terrified look on her face, slamming the door shut. A second before it hit the frame, scorched fingers, the skin broken and swollen and the nails burnt away to crusty brown lumps, snapped into life around the edges, pushing it back open again. On the other side was the moaning noise, incredibly loud. Whatever Mellissa had seen was almost upon them, separated only by the door.

  Nolan kicked the door hard, reverberating pain shooting through his leg upon impact. The fingers splayed out as they were crushed, but didn’t let go. He aimed another kick, ignoring the numbness that followed, whilst Mellissa pushed her weight against the door still. There were a horrible series of cracking sounds, and several of the fingers bent out of shape, the bones inside clearly broken. They flapped uselessly. Nolan kicked again and again, until the door could shut fast, and gory shades sprayed along the wall next to the pulverised scraps of skin.

  It likely wouldn’t hold for long. Nolan turned around, looking for the ladder on the small walkway in the dim light. It sat riveted to the uneven brickwork, equally as neglected as the door had been and left alone to the elements. Where he touched it, the paint flaked away, the sensation strange on his hands. With Nolan leading, they quickly began their descent as the wind from the storm tried to heave them clear.

  Nolan’s descent was one precarious step downwards after another while he tried to find his footing in the dark, and the chill from the air cut into him. His hands were covered in blistered paint and half frozen, with no tactile feeling in them. It was harsh and bitingly cold out, not at all as it should have been for a warm, early August evening. All that existed were the rungs on the ladder, one after another, creaking in protest at the unexpected weight on them after so many years dor
mant.

  They were passing by one of the floors below their own when it happened.

  Nolan had just passed a balcony, looking down into the alley below them. The base of the building was much closer than before, maybe two levels down, not yet close enough to be able to make out the details in the shadows, but offering enough visibility to see that the alley at the bottom of their climb was thankfully empty. Nolan hadn’t been sure what they would have done next if there had been something in the darkness waiting for them.

  On the upper floors, the blaze had spread and billowed forth out of the windows as if the whole building were a blazing effigy. Not for the first time, Nolan mentally thanked Mellissa for making him lead her away. If they’d stayed, their apartment would have ended a suffocating charnel house, cooking them as if they were inside an oven.

  Above, one of the things that had chased them broke through the door. Nolan could hear it frantically moving around, snarling. He tried to move faster, but it was not easily done. A slipped foot missed a rung and he almost fell, desperately flailing to find some purchase, all the while willing his tired hands to find the strength to hold on.

  Mellissa screamed.

  Nolan hurriedly looked in her direction as he hung for dear life, seeing her lit from above by the conflagration, a frail shadow surrounded by distant fire. Something had her by the hair, dragging her over the rails and onto the fire escape balcony. Nolan could do nothing but watch, too far down and still not righted on the ladder to quickly climb up. He managed to get a free hand to her ankle, just as Mellissa’s whole body jerked and was pulled upwards several feet, leaving him snatching at air, and almost dislodging him as well.

  He hung by one arm, both feet swinging uselessly, kicking at the ladder. Mellissa was still screaming, fighting back. Whatever had her made an abrasive braying sound, which could have been demented laughter, as it held her hair tightly. The whole ladder shook as Mellissa’s struggles dislodged the ancient brickwork that held it in place. A rusty brown bolt fell down onto Nolan’s shoulder, before continuing the rest of the way to the ground.

  One foot at last snagged onto a rung as the burning muscles in Nolan’s arm were about to relent, pushed too far, beyond his ability to maintain his grip. As the fingers on his loose hand closed around the freezing metal once more and he regained his balance, another bolt hit him. Brick dust came with it, and then a chunk of crumbling mortar.

  The whole ladder seemed to buckle in half, protesting in metallic retort. It broke away from the wall, a bulge on the side of the building, moving erratically in the storm. Mellissa let loose one final, heart wrenching scream, as she lost the battle above and disappeared from sight, ripped away onto the balcony to whatever death awaited her.

  Before Nolan could even shout her name, there was a loud snap as the metal of the ladder that he hung from gave in at last and began to peel away completely with great lurching shudders, sheering off from the rungs above. Below him, the falling pieces of the ladder and its fixings impacted heavily in the paved alley, chipping flecks of stone into the air.

  With the ground rushing up to meet him, Nolan plummeted into the alley below, hands still holding the severed rungs that had previously offered salvation.

  V. Carrion Spirit

  The Aftermath in the Ruined City, Date Unknown

  The carriage shook side to side, jostling him up and down in the seat. Eyes closed, Nolan sat quietly listening to the sound of the train wheels running over the tracks, a high pitched resistance that elicited squeals and a metallic slither. Something about it was quite hypnotic, calming even.

  He felt her hand clasp his, her fingers cold to the touch.

  Nolan opened his eyes. He could hear something else, at the edge of earshot, whatever it was faintly audible and existing alongside the rhythmic sound from the carriage as it sped along. It sounded like a scratching noise, tiny screeching like nails along a chalkboard, although from far away and almost indistinct.

  From where he sat, Nolan could see that he was in one of the cars close to the centre of the train. As he looked left and right through the windowed doors at each end of the car, Nolan saw carriage after carriage stretch onwards past a forest of steel bars and supports. The much larger side panel windows on either side of him showed only darkness, the occasional outline of pipes and wiring within the tunnel bursting into being as sparks from the wheels below struck upwards, or a poorly lit and deserted station as it flashed past.

  The sound was still there. No louder, no quieter, just barely more than soundless. It compelled him to sit up and try to find its source.

  The girl didn’t have anything to say, which he took as approval.

  Both left and right looked the same. Nolan remembered a book from way back when, in his childhood. It was a silly role-playing game book, the type where the reader flicked backwards and forwards through the pages to certain numbers dependent upon what choices they made. It made him smile. “Left is the path of the virtuous.” It was as good as the alternative.

  Nolan began picking his way through the car, using the bright steel handrails to support himself. The door at the end of the carriage wasn’t locked; it was just a simple metal handle, the same steel as the handrails. He reached and opened it, feeling a cold gust of air suddenly enter the carriage, giving him a chill. As his body adjusted, he opened the door beyond and tried not to look down at the speeding track beneath him as he stepped over into the next car.

  It was the same as the one he had just left, as uniform as subway carriages ever could be. Nolan began to make his way through the carriage as he had the one before, almost losing his balance for a moment and stopping to right himself as the tunnel took a left turn.

  Nolan fancied that the noise might be louder now, even over the increased sound of the wind behind him billowing through the open doors.

  Once again, he stepped through into the next carriage. This one was slightly different, sporadic vandalism sprayed over its walls, unsightly given the relatively clean carriages he had encountered so far. He kept moving down. What could have been another station flashed by one side, this one unlit and only noticeable as a dark opening instead of a wall. The train didn’t slow down. For the first time, Nolan considered that it might not be heading to his destination.

  Too late now.

  Looking through the window set into the door and into the next carriage, Nolan could see that the condition continued to deteriorate, lights in that car pulsing as the whole carriage snaked side to side, pronouncedly more so than any of the others. The walls of the car were dirtier, the graffiti heavier. Several of the seats were missing or ripped, their cushioning splayed out in tufts of yellow. The handle leading to it was rusted and didn’t turn properly, not releasing the catch to open the door. A stern kick broke the handle clean off, and the door swung open on unused rusty hinges. Trying to maintain his balance and fearful of falling between the carriages and onto the track below, Nolan was forced to jump quickly into the carriage as it shook violently.

  The noises were definitely louder. Still at the limit of his hearing, the sounds were evasive if he tried to concentrate on them, and returned as soon as he gave up. Nolan chased them through the dilapidated carriage whilst trying not to lose his footing, and into the next.

  Almost predictably, the final car was the worst yet, the trail Nolan followed leading to a single corrupting point that radiated through the whole train. The chairs were completely bare of any material, just wire mess soldered to pig-iron frames. The handrails had either been pulled free of the sockets and lay rolling around over the floor, or were dented and scratched, a world apart from those just two cars down. The graffiti was the crudest, vilest broken language possible, or portrayed childish sexual drawings of ridiculous proportions. It covered every surface, even the floor and ceiling.

  Nolan could feel all of the hairs on his neck stand on end. The carriage was not empty.

  Halfway down the car, a young woman sat looking straight ahead, hands set demure
ly in her lap and completely at odds with the disgusting state of her surroundings. Her long dark brown hair parted in the middle and spilt down like water, across her shoulders, over what looked like an old fashioned school uniform of sorts, dark with a white collar. Of what Nolan could see, her skin was an extremely pale pink that looked to have never seen the sun. The noises intensified, as she suddenly seemed to sense his presence, and slowly her head swung toward him.

  More than anything, Nolan noticed the blank eyes first, the lack of an iris or pupils, just opaque orbs. He knew then to try and escape, the words of the stranger in the bar returning to him.

  Her mouth opened into a horrible circle, spreading wider and wider, impossibly so, more than a human face could. Like an invisible red marker pen drew them, bright lines streaked out from that yawning opening across her chin, running through her white collar, and then became lost in the navy hue of her dress. Where the lines hit the floor, they continued to run, crisscrossing over each other and trailing across the walls, handrails and seats, spiraling around the steel tomb.

  As if being dragged by a butchers hook, her shoulders hunched over, and she was suddenly lifted off of the floor, feet dangling uselessly and the toes of her shoes scraping the wooden boards. Her head began to convulse and twitch spasmodically, the red lines first becoming thick and uneven, before she suddenly vomited a stream of crimson gore mixed with black oil. The noise had become unbearable and Nolan was fighting to try and clear his head, desperate to block it out. As he looked on and watched the woman before him, her edges, like that of a specter, grew hazy and blurry.

  Nolan tried to run. Fearfully, he turned and pelted as fast as stumbling feet could carry him out of the carriage, as the whole car twisted around and bounced from the tunnel walls while the train sped along, its momentum increasing.

  Nolan leapt the gap from the car into the next one, sprawling over the floor. He didn’t stop, and pushing himself to his feet, he kept moving, pumping legs that felt to be weighted with lead, one in front of another that made deep echoes on the wooden floor. He pulled up short at the end of the carriage. The door swung wildly in the wind, clattering against the metal walls. Nothing else lay beyond, except the dizzying tracks speeding out from under him. There was no sign that the connecting carriages had ever existed.