by Alan Spencer
“How did you get into my room?”
“I have a key card.” He brushed aside her concern. “We need to talk now. I don’t have much time. Hurry.”
“I’m on my way.”
She said good-bye to Herman and thanked him for a temporary reprieve from her concerns. Back at her room, Richard was sitting on the captain’s chair at the desk. He urged her to close the door and lock it.
“What’s going on?”
He rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “This is a mess. I still can’t find my partners. Brenner’s killed them, I know it.”
Why is he telling me all of this?
She kept her voice down, but the anger was still present. “Have you considered the fact you’ve put me into the line of fire with this Brenner guy?”
“You’re in danger anyway.” The joking, honest, human aspect of Richard was strangely missing now. “You’ve been in the secret chamber. He’ll question you if he thinks you know something. But more importantly, you were almost attacked by vampires. More than likely, it was James Sorelli. He’s the mastermind who presented the plan of the island, even convinced the other captured monsters to turn themselves over to the authorities for deportation. The zombies didn’t need counsel, but the other vampires and wolves needed a bit of encouragement. But now we’ve been blindsided. Who would’ve thought, after fifty years, now would finally come the backlash? The truth is, yes, the island project was going to be terminated, but like I said, my men are missing, the chief of defense hasn’t contacted me—and I haven’t been able to contact him either—and a contingent of the grand plan has collapsed. The monsters have learned of our plans of ending this project, and they’re reacting accordingly. If there was any rescue mission, it’s been canceled.”
She balled up her fists. “So what the hell do we do about it? Why tell me this? Why involve me?”
“How things have been going,” he swallowed hard, “we’re going to have to save ourselves.”
“From what exactly?”
She imagined the circle of zombies, vampires and werewolves sharing the IV tubes. What did it mean? She couldn’t translate the image to a specific threat.
“Brenner’s going off the deep end, deeper than ever before. He’s paranoid and erratic. He’s arranging an excavation team to hollow out the walls and get to the bottom of their secrets. I fear the government could come along and bomb us and say the hell with risk or mutation of the monsters. We don’t have much time left.”
“Then what is it you need from me?”
“I have to be Brenner’s right-hand man. That means I won’t hear word of mouth. I felt I needed to remind you how much I need you. You share with me everything you hear. That means you’re going to have to take some risks. The vampires are after you, I can guarantee it. We have to get you in that work area. It exposes you to danger, I know, but it’s the only way. We must find out what James intends to do with these underground tunnels. The faster we can stop them and eliminate the danger, the faster we can execute these monsters and be done with this shit. Perhaps I can convince the chief of defense that if we’ve eliminated the threat, we can buy more time to get off this island before it’s destroyed.”
“That’s not going to work. If they can obliterate us, then they will. It’s the easier option, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but at least with the monsters out of the way, we’d have a fighting chance to return to America, or anywhere. I do have a plan. The next cruiser arriving on the island will be here in four days. We hijack the boat and escape, but first we have to figure out what the hell James is up to and stop it. We can’t have any of the monsters following us, wherever we go when this island is gone.”
He removed his Yankees ball cap and expelled a weary breath. “I’m alone in this. Brenner doesn’t know about the island project ending. He’s after the monsters right now. I’m up shit creek trying to save everybody’s lives. Honestly, we can’t do anything until we find out what the hell James Sorelli is up to. Whatever it is, the monsters could already be activating their plan. If the monsters overtake the US, forget about ever getting a good night’s sleep ever again.”
She couldn’t help but ask, “This island has existed for about fifty years, correct? How come nobody’s attempted an escape before? People, I mean.”
He offered a wry smile. “I knew that question was coming. I’ve been here since I was fifteen, and that makes about seventeen years on this island. I’ve seen two escape attempts. I’ve thought about running away once when we docked back in the US to pick up citizens to deliver here, but I couldn’t. One of my cohorts tried to run. His name was Cyrus Kimball. He snuck out of the cargo hold, and upon sighting, they shot him point-blank dead. No questions asked.
“There are cameras on the ships too, and they can see your every move. Brenner’s old assistant director—the position I presently occupy—hijacked one of the cruiser boats. He shot up every camera. He even had a crew of armed workers with him. The boat was fired upon by aircraft, disintegrated. I saw it all from the island. They showed everybody the video footage for weeks after it happened, to remind them of the consequences of attempted escape. They even fished the bodies out of the ocean and forced us to feed them to the zombies. The last attempt was similar. A group used an eight-person boat to escape. I assume they didn’t reach the shore and died of exposure. I never heard anything else about them, but rest assured, they didn’t make it.”
“So how do we escape?” She was confused. “It sounds impossible.”
“We have to make the battle more interesting. I’m not certain how yet. I’ve thought on it for years. I have to come up with something final soon. Our time window is short. I know in my gut the two vampires you caught in that secret chamber are up to a revolt, and now that we’re investigating them, they’ll lash out. It’s only a matter of time.”
There was a possibility of escape, albeit dangerous, but it was better than a lifetime of forced labor. “Then I’ll work with the vampires. I’ll be your pawn. I can handle myself.”
She picked up her holster in demonstration. “After yesterday, I’d gladly kill anything or anybody who fucks with me.”
It was strange, she thought, thinking about how she was attracted to him. He eyed her with dependence. He saw things in her nobody else did, and it empowered her.
She held his arm. “I won’t let you down.”
He touched her hand. “You don’t fold under pressure. You’re not happy here, not like a lot of these assholes who eat, shop, drink and fuck their worries away.”
The words snuck out of her, “I’d like to fuck my worries away.”
She smiled at him now that she’d spoken her mind. Unable to take back what she’d said, and not wanting to, she wrapped her hands around his head and pulled him in for a kiss. He returned it vigorously, wanting it too, and they kept kissing, open-mouthed and hungry. They were mashed together, the embrace bumbled and rushed, and they stumbled onto the bed, rolling, grasping and running their hands along each other’s bodies. She tingled everywhere, her pulse thrumming hard behind her ears like a pleasure gong.
He kissed her cheek, and taking a weary breath, he regretted what he had to say. “I have to go, but we’ll finish this. I promise.”
She didn’t want him to go, but he was so concerned about other pressing things. “Brenner’s in that secret entrance. If I’m late, he’ll scream treason. He’s irrational. He’s already shot three of our workers dead. He suspected them of siding with the monsters. I’m the only one who’s been able to subdue him.”
He held both her hands, kissing them. “I want this very much.”
“I know.” Her smile was so big. “Go. We’ll figure this out.”
Richard walked to the door, but then he stopped. “I almost forgot. At six a.m., you’ll be working on the third floor. Your shift supervisor will be Cynthia Wells. Todd Lamberson is on the same page too. You’re my only allies. He’s acting conflicted about being here, but he’s tricking everybody. Talk t
o him freely—in private company, of course—about our plans. Cynthia knows about our plan too. So look out for each other.” He eyed her softly. “I wish I could myself.”
He left after the final instructions were spoken, leaving her alone on the bed, thinking what could’ve happened if they’d kept making out. Adrenaline, the pain in her stitches, and her boiling hormones—she hadn’t had sex in two years—she wouldn’t live it down for a time.
Addey checked the clock. It was already three in the morning.
She had three more hours before her shift began.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mandy Wilson loved nights like these. She had the easiest job in the complex. She tended the vegetable garden at the south end. Mandy had only laid eyes on the zombies, wolves and vampires through the pictures they showed her in a file folder. She was twenty-nine, but she felt like a seventeen-year-old enjoying her first paycheck, because the money in her hands right now was money to burn. Three hundred dollars. It could afford her a shopping spree at the apparel stores.
Forty-five minutes after her shift concluded, she showered away the scent of sea salt and rich soil off of her body. Clean, she wore a red skirt and a black V-neck top. She didn’t have a boyfriend, but with her new clothes, she was sure somebody would offer her a free drink or a boogie on the dance floor. Brandy, her next-door neighbor in the living quarters, explained she had to be loose and fun to make friends; otherwise the island could be a very lonely place.
And Brandy sleeps with about anybody—male or female—to pass the time. I’m not that outgoing. I’d rather buy a new pair of shoes than deal with immature little boys who think their hard-ons are gold.
Mandy completed the walk to the shopping district. The flashing lights from the dance floor eased the tension from the workday, reminding her she could have a social life, even in this situation. But shopping was her excursion tonight. She threw herself into the first department store and rushed the wall of dresses, active wear, nightgowns and underwear, and she came upon an orange sheath dress. She loved the bright, vibrant color. There was also a violet tunic and matching bra and panties to the right of her. Enticed, she removed the selections from the rack and headed to the fitting rooms.
She closed the door and hung the clothes on the rack, then faced the mirror. And that’s when the shape of a faded face—as if underwater and mostly in darkness—beckoned her. It mouthed, Leave now—you must leave!
She didn’t hear the words. She was too focused on the face, drawn to it and frightened. And she recognized it. It was her deceased mother, Angie. She had died five years ago of a failed liver transplant.
“Mom!” She pressed her hands against the glass, trying to find her way through. “What do you want? I miss you so much. Please, Mom. Talk to me.” Mandy cried out, pounding the mirror, desperate to touch her mother. “I need you. You have no idea what I’ve been through!”
The image of Angie faded until the mirror was as it should be again.
She hadn’t removed her hands from the glass, and with her weight against it, the mirror flipped around like a secret door. The forward motion took Mandy. Reeling from one event to the next, she tumbled to the other side on all fours. Darkness greeted her. The ground was solid concrete, the walls smooth like the walls in the fitting room. Getting up, she completed three steps before she touched the wall. The recess was narrow. Humid. Stinking of wet fur.
She pounded on the wall. “Can anybody hear me? I’M TRAPPED!”
Hrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Mandy shut her mouth and kept her breath as low as possible.
The deep grumble emanated from yards north of her.
She pressed her body against the wall and remained still. In the coming moments she heard a wet plop and the tearing of a sheet, and felt a warm wind blow across her body. A horrid stench, something noxious and dead, crossed her next. The reek was more humid and stagnant than the corridor itself. Another wet plop and rigid tear, this time more vicious and violent. She imagined duct tape being yanked from a surface many successions over, and this time, the noises were followed by a wolfish shriek. The series of noises occurred again and again, with the addition of the sound of lungs struggling to breathe.
Then more new sounds.
The clink of bones. Ligaments cracking at their joints of flexion. Breaking. Growing. Cracking. Bleeding. Then the reek of fresh shit. The tearing of skin over and over. It was all a constant.
Mandy was frozen, refusing to accept what was happening yards in front of her.
This is a trap.
That means somebody knows you’re in here.
She dug her nails into the wall without realizing it, she was so on edge. There was one thing she could think to do, and that was to scream for help. “I’m behind the wall. For God’s sake, somebody hear me. SAVE ME!”
There was no apparent reaction from anywhere.
Nothing moved.
Then words eked out of a raw throat. “You haven’t seen monsters before, huh, Mandy?”
She couldn’t respond.
Biting words taunted her next. “No, you’re a gardener. You’ve been safe and sound the whole time.” A laugh, a humph, and then it warned her darkly. “Not for much longer.”
An overheard light flipped on, the source a single lightbulb. Behind her, a distant outline of a man ran out of her line of vision and darted back into the shadows. The sight ahead of her caused her to slide down the wall in sheer horror.
“No,” she muttered, her body suffering panic-induced spasms. “No, it can’t be. It can’t be.”
Mandy’s legs were lead-heavy. She struggled to move, to clear more distance between her and the things ahead of her. How did these things come to exist? They removed her every previous understanding of what lived on the island.
“Stay away,” she threatened, though it was with a pitiful voice. “I don’t want to harm you.”
“But we wish to harm you.” The words were derived from a deviant’s throat. “Lots of harm.”
Edging itself into the light, a werewolf was hunched on all fours, its leathery skin bulging and rippling with muscles. Its back legs were ready to pounce, its hackles rose sharp as quills, and its meaty lips held back teeth razor sharp and dripping with yellowish slobber. Then she caught them in the shadows, the vampires on the floor, their hands posed to crawl, their black eyes ogling her with green lines through the orbs. Three zombies were also standing vigil in the background, awaiting a command, ready to be unleashed upon her. Their blackened flesh was shiny with fat seeping to the surface, the deep gulfs for eye sockets focused on her with every shred of existence on the line.
Still taking them in, she caught the strangest and most threatening sight: the vampire that was curled up on the floor. He was the one who had spoken the threats previously, and staring at him, she watched the show as his back split open completely down the spine and spit out a creature. It flopped out between the shoulder blades as if being birthed. It shoved aside muscle tissue and sinew to live, to escape. The creature was a werewolf the size of a five-year-old child and covered in blood and amniotic fluids. It shook spastically, waking up.
Before she could run, the birthed creature took action, charging after her. She only gained four steps before she was tackled from behind and feasted upon by the numerous and unseen creatures in the recess.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Brenner had canvassed the secret hallway for many hours. He placed floodlights to illuminate every detail hidden in the dark. There were no mouse holes or obvious tunnel entrances located so far. The bastards had covered their tracks. “I’ll find you,” he growled, sniffing the air. It reeked of zombies, of their blood and their rotting insides. His pulse quickened. Sweat beaded down every inch of his dermis as he thought about the secrets being kept from him.
Calm yourself. You’re going to lose it.
He subdued himself by studying the condition of the walls. They were roughly excavated, hollowed out by instruments not designed for tha
t kind of work. The stairs were roughly poured concrete. Where did they find concrete to pour?
A shift occurred in the far wall at the very end of the mock corridor. A square was dislodged with the crunch of rock. The sizable square was kicked out by a waxen and pale foot. Judging by the curvature of its talons, it was a vampire.
Come on out.
Did the vampire not know he was there?
The mouse-in-the-hole game was eating at Brenner’s patience, so he decided to take a risk. He unholstered his .28 pistol. Sucking in a quiet breath, he surged. He charged the opening, taking aim and firing three times. Without knowing if his shots hit home, he reached inside and yanked the twitching body out. The vampire was a man, a weak and emaciated body covered in black earth. One bullet had struck him in the throat. Blood spurted from the hole in the trachea.
“That’s one rat smoked out from the hole.” Brenner wedged his boot against the creature’s throat. “You obviously can’t talk. Interrogating you would be a waste of time. I’m sure there are others who are seeing you die right now. I want them to know how much I relish one death. Yours.”
That’s when he crushed its neck.
“You can die just like anybody.” He raised his voice. “Each and every one of you can die like the rest of us!”
Brenner shone a flashlight into the hole the vampire had traveled from. Looking in, he observed a tunnel, perhaps ten or fifteen yards long. It fed into another hallway, then another, and another, and on and on; what ultimately gave the effect of a labyrinth of hidey holes.
Speaking into his walkie, he immediately ordered the excavation team onto the spot.
Richard paced in front of the naval radio. He had tried every frequency, and still no answer. He refused to give up. Communication blackouts had happened before, but not like this—not right before plans to destroy the island. The program directors abroad had promised the human inhabitants would be escorted off the island by ship. They were liars, of course. The real problem at hand was that they’d found the secret tunnels, and nobody had any idea what the monsters were conspiring to do.
