Hellhole

by Jonathan Maberry

  She attempted to get to her feet, but Elena pressed on her shoulders, holding her in place. “No, I saw them. I saw the blood, okay? I saw...what was left.”

  “Not Sasha.”

  “Yes, Sasha. You have to accept it, Allie—he’s gone. There is nothing more we can do for him or any of them. We have to protect ourselves now. We have to survive.”

  Survive, without Sasha? It was unthinkable. Her world ended then, in cold, foul-smelling misery, as the truth of Elena’s words seeped into her unwilling brain. “I want to go back. I can’t just leave him there.”

  “You don’t understand. Those creatures, they—they were feeding on them.”

  A cry escaped her then, a thin wail that sounded more animal than human. Elena got to her feet, bringing Aleandra up with her as if she were a life-sized doll. “Sasha wouldn’t want you to die down here. Don’t you dare give up. Don’t you leave me alone.”

  Death beckoned in the form of the treacherous stairs, and Aleandra pushed past her, flinging herself towards them. If she could break her neck, she wouldn’t feel the agony to come. She’d be spared the emptiness of a life without him, without Tatiana and Oleg and Mishka, her closest friends. Why had she been spared? For a moment, she despised Elena for dragging her out here. She longed for oblivion.

  The slickness of the ice under her feet slowed her progress and the other woman easily caught up, catching her by the wrist. “Let me go first. I have the light.”

  Aleandra pictured shoving her friend off the stairs. Whatever was down there, whatever was the cause of that ghastly stench, would surely kill them. Wouldn’t it be kinder to end it now, like this? A broken neck didn’t hurt—one snap and it would be over.

  “Be careful. They’re slippery,” Elena whispered, bringing Aleandra’s murderous fantasies to an end. Even without her beloved Mishka, her friend clearly wanted to live.

  Rather than it growing darker as they descended, the atmosphere lightened, making it easier to see. The bottom of the stairs was awash in green and red lights. “What is that?” The unnaturalness of it broke through her apathy and the fear returned. “Can you see anything?”

  “It seems to be some kind of machine.”

  Dread weighted her legs until they were made of lead. The smell was so strong her gorge rose, sending bile to coat her mouth. She choked it down. “Stop, Ellie.” The Reaper waited for them in the greenish-reddish glow, grinning—she was certain of it. But her warning came out as a strangled croak. Her friend didn’t hear.

  Elena reached the last step and vanished. Aleandra pressed her gloved hand to the wall of the cave, ignoring the chill that crept through her fingers, stiffening them. Her eyes strained to see shadows in the dim light. She waited to hear the scream.

  Instead, her friend’s voice floated up to her, sounding breathless and excited. “You have to see this!”

  Gritting her teeth, she forced one boot in front of the other, her feet numb. Clomp-clomp, CLOMP. Clomp-clomp, CLOMP.

  Far from the dour dungeon she’d expected, Aleandra gaped in shock as she stepped on the last stair. The cave opened into some kind of laboratory. One wall was filled with metal panels that were covered with numbered dials and blinking lights in multiple colors.

  There was a gurney in the middle of the room—if this could be considered a room—with crisp white sheets and a cart with a tray of medical instruments alongside it. It appeared as sterile as a hospital, but who would need a hospital in such an isolated place? Perhaps it was for skiers who got injured in the mountains.

  And yet, the foul smell thickened the air, rendering it poisonous. It spoke of blood and gore, of something unclean.

  Over the hum of the machinery, she heard another noise, a sound that didn’t fit.

  Her skin prickled, and she hurried to close the distance between her and Elena. “Did you hear that?”

  Before the last word left her mouth, it happened again—the sound of chain links clinking against each other.

  Elena shrugged. “Probably another machine.”

  But it wasn’t. Aleandra recognized the sound from her childhood, when she’d had a St. Bernard dog her parents refused to let in the house. The pup had spent most of its days attached to a post in the backyard. She’d never forgotten the clatter its chain made as it rushed towards her, so happy for human companionship it would have garroted itself if she hadn’t gotten to it in time.

  Her fingers sunk into Elena’s arm. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

  Somewhere in that room, a creature was chained, and it was moving closer. There was no telling where it was, or how far the chain could reach. Or how strong it was.

  Pulse racing, her head whipped in both directions as she searched for the source of the clanking, but everything was amplified in the cave. It could have come from anywhere. Her urgency finally inspired Elena, who willingly left with her at last. They shuffled back the way they’d come, even though the gloom above the stairs brought with it no promise of safety.

  A white blur flew at them.

  Elena tried to run, but the thing was faster, wrapping itself around her legs and tugging at her with incredible strength.

  “No!” Aleandra yanked her friend away, the momentum freeing Elena and sending Aleandra toppling onto the stairs, the other woman in her grasp. Before they could escape, the creature spoke.

  “Wait! Don’t leave.”

  Shocked to hear it speak Russian, Aleandra’s eyes widened. Although it was hunched over and caked with filth, she recognized it as human. Elena crab-walked backwards until she rested against Aleandra’s lap, her breath coming in little shrieking whistles.

  Long, scraggly hair the color of iron partly concealed the thing’s face, but the creature was undoubtedly a man. His chest was bare and sunken, and he wore a heavy metal collar around his scrawny neck. Every inch of his exposed flesh was scarred or peeling.

  “Who are you?” Aleandra asked, her voice stronger than she felt. The smell was at least partially coming from this pitiful thing, who revealed a mouth of blackened and rotted teeth when he answered.

  “Gri—Grigory.”

  The name meant nothing to her at first, but the eyes did. They were the only non-offensive part of him, and she recognized them at once, as she’d been looking into them every day for the past year. Her own welled with tears.

  “You’re Sasha’s father.”

  He sprang towards her, but the chain went taut and his skin choked against the collar. Elena attempted to clamber over Aleandra and bolt up the stairs, but there wasn’t room. However, Aleandra was no longer afraid—at least not of this poor, withered, battered man. No matter how disturbed he had become, he was still Sasha’s kin and she could never fear him. She didn’t flinch as he grasped her boot, squeezing her toes.

  “You know my boy?” His voice broke, and rheumy tears trickled down his cheeks. “But how? He is long dead.”

  Swallowing her revulsion, Aleandra leaned forward, stretching out her hand. The man clung to it as fiercely as he’d wrapped his arms around Elena’s legs. “He survived the government’s attempts to murder him. I came here with him to look for you.”

  “My son is here?” The man wavered, appearing on the verge of collapse, and Aleandra’s throat tightened. Though haunted by his father’s disappearance, Sasha had never dared to hope Grigory was still alive. And now the joyful reunion would never take place. She couldn’t bear to tell him the truth, so she nodded, staring into the eyes that were so like Sasha’s.

  His grip on her hand tightened, crushing her bones and startling her. “Then get him out of here! You must leave before they return. They always come back.”

  “Who? Who comes back? Who did this to you, Grigory?”

  The dread in his voice was palpable, and the panic returned, chewing on her with sharp teeth, but she owed it to Sasha to find out as much as she could. “What happened to you?”

  He pushed back against her hand with surprising power. “Go. They will kill you. The only reason
you still breathe is they hoped I would do it.”

  Before she could respond, the air reverberated with a howl that shook the stairs. The thunder of heavy footsteps thudded above. Elena launched herself over Aleandra and scrabbled up the stairs, disappearing into the darkness.

  “Go—time is short.” Gregory shoved her again, this time by her foot. The edge of the stair above her bit painfully into her lower back.

  “What are they?”

  “Monsters,” he said, giving her boot a final push before retreating. His words echoed back at her. “They are monsters. Abominations against God...and my children.”

  Reluctantly, Aleandra turned away from him and faced nothingness. The darkness was like a wall, it was so impenetrable. Stretching out tentative fingers, she tested the air like a blind person, ascending the stairs one by one, hoping she had time.

  Something grasped her hand.

  “Don’t yell; it’s me,” Elena whispered. Positive her friend had abandoned her, Aleandra wanted to weep with relief. “This way.”

  Feeling the cave’s icy wall for guidance, they groped their way down the right-hand tunnel as quietly as they could, timing their footfalls with the creatures’ so the crunch of their boots on the ice wouldn’t give them away.

  Descending into the complete blackness was a new level of terror, one Aleandra wouldn’t have been able to survive without the pressure of the creatures at her back. They were close enough now that their breathing was audible, along with a constant stream of grunts and snarls. They are communicating, she realized. They are sentient.

  “It’s them,” Elena said, her voice breaking. “The ones that murdered Mishka. They will kill us.”

  “No.” Aleandra had new purpose now. She must survive so she could tell the world what had happened to Sasha’s father. Her beloved might be gone forever, but she could see that his father lived his remaining days in comfort, rather than this disgusting cave.

  “They’re playing with us, don’t you see? They’re massive—they could overtake us instantly if they wanted to. They want us to think we have a chance. It’s just a game to them.”

  Aleandra ignored her friend’s warnings and took over the lead, walking them deeper into the cave. Whether man- or animal- made, sooner or later, it must end. And when it did, perhaps there would be another way out. A path to freedom and fresh air. The thought made her quicken her pace, hauling Elena along with her, even though she feared she’d walk straight into a creature any second. Only remembering Sasha’s eyes in that ragged face drove her forward.

  Two dots of golden light appeared in front of them. They were mere pinpoints, but it didn’t matter. The sun had risen, and somehow, the light had found its way in. They’d follow it to salvation.

  Elena began to fight her, twisting away and clawing at Aleandra’s grip. “No,” she moaned. “No—it’s them! It’s them!”

  “Ssh, we’re almost there. Just a bit farther—”

  At first the warmth was welcome, but then the burning began, intensifying until she yelped. Aleandra flailed at her arm, certain it was on fire.

  Her fingers swished through nothingness.

  Her arm was gone.

  Elena screamed, her cries soon drowned out by a horrific tearing noise. Aleandra, temporarily forgetting about her missing limb in her rush to save her friend, went after her until two pinpoints of golden light made her freeze.

  They weren’t pinpoints any longer.

  They were eyes.

  In their glow, she watched a hunched and horrid thing—a creature of nightmares—tear her friend’s head off with its teeth.

  There is nothing you can do for her now, my love. Back away, as quietly as you can. Don’t give them a reason to chase you.

  She wanted nothing more than to fall to the ground wailing, but hearing Sasha’s voice calmed her. She crept backwards, ignoring the chewing and slurping, forcing the atrocious image of her friend’s death from her mind. Steadying her remaining hand against the wall, she relied on Sasha to guide her.

  A little bit farther, just a little bit farther. Can you move more quickly? That’s my girl. Quiet now.

  It took forever until she couldn’t hear them any longer, but they could close the distance between them in seconds.

  Look in your boot, Allie.

  She didn’t question his voice in death, just as she’d never had reason to question it in life. Dropping into a crouch, she crossed her left hand over to her right foot, where something had been rubbing against her skin. Forcing her hand into the tiny space between her ankle and the boot, her fingers closed around something hard. She knew what it was without seeing. She remembered how Grigory had held onto her foot, how he’d given it that last shove.

  You’re almost there. Just one more thing, and you’ll be free.

  She didn’t want to do one more thing. What she wanted was to lie down and go to sleep. Her legs grew more unwilling to carry her, and spots flashed before her eyes, temporarily blinding her. Aleandra knew she was going into shock from the loss of blood and her arm but was powerless to prevent it. If she didn’t get medical attention soon, she would die. Perhaps she was dead already, since she was listening to a ghost.

  You’re still alive. Keep moving.

  It was as if she were a puppet on a string, lured by his voice, helpless to fight it. She moved forward, feeling like she was slogging through quicksand. She stumbled more frequently now, and each time, it was more difficult to regain her balance. The temptation to lie down was almost irresistible. After all, who would hire a one-armed nurse? Who would love her now that Sasha was gone?

  I’m not gone; I’m right here with you. I’ll be with you as long as you need me. Keep moving. Only a few steps more, my love.

  She sensed it long before she heard it breathing or smelled its fetid stink. The darkness had changed, becoming her friend instead of her enemy, concealing her from view.

  It’s all that stands between you and freedom, and it’s asleep. Do you hear that?

  She heard the rumbling snore, human-like except for its volume. This time she didn’t need Sasha to tell her what to do. She removed the sheath from his father’s gift, tracking the creature by instinct.

  When she was close enough to feel its heat, it opened its golden eyes, giving her a target. Silent as a shadow, Aleandra drew back her remaining arm and stabbed the knife through those eyes, hacking away until the golden light was gone. There was a shuddering thud as the creature fell at her feet. She’d struck so quickly, it hadn’t had time to warn the others. Panting, she leaned against the cave, wiping away the sweat that drenched her brow.

  You did well, my darling. You see it now, don’t you?

  This time the light was a faint peach, anemic compared to the gold. She wouldn’t be fooled again. New strength filled her legs, and her pace quickened until she was half-running, half-sliding through the tunnel. Then freezing air hit her face and she was outside, free from that stinking darkness and death.

  She plunged into the knee-high snow, never stopping, wincing against the unfamiliar light. It was difficult to keep her balance with only one arm, but she managed. Sometimes she listed to the side and paused for a moment to catch her breath, but not too long.

  They hunt at night. They won’t come after you in the daylight, but you need to get help.

  The apricot sun was high above her by the time she reached their campsite. Ignoring the blood that darkened the snow outside the tents, she walked towards the one that mattered most.

  No, my darling. You need your kit.

  Aleandra reluctantly changed course and headed for her own tent, the only one not smeared and spattered with blood. She had Elena to thank for her survival, and once she got out of there, she would make sure the world knew how heroic her friend had been, how brave.

  Forcing her stiff fingers into position, she unsnapped the latch on her medical kit, and one by one, withdrew the necessary supplies. Pulling aside her ruined jacket with her teeth, she packed gauze into the gap
ing hole where her arm had been and wrapped it, securing the bandage against the opposite shoulder. The exposed nerves were frozen, so she felt little pain—only exhaustion.

  Crawling now, she left her clean tent for one awash with gore. No matter. She needed to see him, to touch him, whatever state he was in.

  His stomach had been ripped open, a terrible wound, but the worst of it was concealed by his snowsuit. She covered him with a sleeping bag, hiding the rest. His face, his beautiful face, looked just the same. Once she lowered his lids, she could pretend he was sleeping. Lying beside him, she lifted his arm, bringing it around her like a blanket, imagining he held her close. She nestled her head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent, memorizing it, ignoring the sickly-sweet tang of his blood.

  “You’re not dead,” she murmured. “Just sleeping.”

  Stay with me a little longer, my love. You’re safe now.

  And that was where they found her, asleep in his arms. The sight of the doomed lovers brought tears to their eyes.

  The rescuers screamed when she spoke. They’d thought she was a corpse.

  Even in her weakened condition, it took three men to pry Sasha from her arms.

  It took even longer for her to explain what had happened to Grigory. In the beginning, they thought she was delirious, hallucinating. But eventually, they believed.

  The team that went to retrieve him never returned.

  BLACK LUNG

  Aaron Sterns

  1 ‒ FORM-UP POINT

  THE COMMISSION TOWER rises like an ancient monolith against the darkening Melbourne skyline. Rooftop floodlights flare against the low smog and for a moment the entire top seems on fire, yellow flames of light steaming upwards. Herald journalist Liz Henderson tries to focus on the strangely beautiful image from her relegated observer position, but her mind reels so much with everything she’s seen in the last few days she can’t concentrate.