by Steven Welch
They walked on, enveloped in the blue.
Elise could see that the glow fungus babies were covered in tiny tendrils, thin as thread, and these were waving about, as if searching for something.
Am I a ghost? That would explain some things, but she was hungry and tired. Her body was sore, her knee and her hand hurt, her nose was dry and itchy with sand and dust. Her stomach growled, her heart ached, and she was furious. Not very ghosty.
No. I’m not a ghost, she thought. This is real, and this strange man, this funny story Dad told her, was going to kill her. I’ll stay with him until we’re out of the tunnel and then I’ll run as fast as I can to get away.
Jules Valiance, she decided, was not a hero. He was scary, he smelled bad, and he was out of his mind.
*
Scynda did not speak as a human does. She spoke through her skin, through her movement, through her eyes.
But if she had a voice, she would have said, “there you are.”
The human man and girl were there just as she’d hoped, popping into view at the entrance to the glow tunnel. It was the only place for them to go, if they’d survived the fall of the tower.
She was not surprised that they had escaped the destruction, as surprise was foreign to her. She was impressed, though, because she hunted and estimating her prey was how she survived.
Her Mistress had explained to her that this prey was foolish. She thought now, though, that it was soft, perhaps foolish, but clever with the instinct to fight for life.
This prey would not be underestimated.
The seven Men of Many Eyes waited in the darkness at the edge of the basement with Scynda and they were hungry.
Her skin became a mottle of gray and black. She became the gloom.
She was hungry too.
She would eat the little human first. The Lurkers in Shadow, her Men, would feast on the one that smelled of smoke and dead flowers.
First, though, Scynda thought it might be wise to follow. What secrets might be revealed? Perhaps even more food was waiting down in the tunnels, soft and pink and vulnerable.
Yes, we will follow for a time, she thought. Then we will eat.
*
The loud thunder attracted it to the park.
There were ant things there, and it moved quickly to stay away from them. They had sharp pincers that might be able to cut its shell and get to the soft flesh beneath.
Its antennae waved about. They sensed bad smells of death and age. The ants made a smell that hurt. But through the noise of scent it discerned the fresh clean salt of the little hairless monkey and a new, different monkey smell.
Two hairless monkeys were here and they had not been trapped in the giant metal thing that fell and was eaten by the ant things.
They were here somewhere, it could smell them with its antennae and it would find them and they would help it get home.
They would help crab voyage back to its home in the deep beautiful ocean so that crab might bury its friend.
*
The tunnels of the glow fungus babies were bright and endless.
Elise and Jules had been walking at a fast pace for a long time.
Jules knew his way and would change tunnels quickly and decisively.
The air was thick with a dusty, ancient smell.
What did glow babies eat, Elise wondered. There were strange new life forms in the world she once knew, and they must have their own…what was it they called it in class…their own food chain.
Oh. She noticed little things crawling along the stone floor. They were like long cockroaches, or crayfish. The repulsive creatures were everywhere, but scurried away and disappeared at the sound or vibration from their footsteps.
Probably harmless, she thought, but definitely gross.
Jules and Elise had been silent, not a word shared since their walk began. Elise was stubborn and would not be the first to break the silence but as time went on she lost the edge of her anger and finally just felt the need to hear her own voice.
“Who used these tunnels?”
Jules said nothing for a moment then answered in a soft voice.
“The tunnels were empty and forgotten during times of peace. I am told they were used by The Resistance in the second World War. After that, they were lost.”
“Then how do you know where we’re going?”
“I said mostly. My friends and I used these tunnels.”
“Les Scaphandriers.”
“Oui.”
France had a long and proud history of ocean exploration. She had sailed the surface and dived into the depths of the seven seas with courage and insatiable scientific yearning. The iconic copper helmets of the first deep divers, the modern bathyspheres, the first wooden diving bells, these and more ran deep in the blood of France. Les Scaphandriers was the name used to describe the men who traveled the depths for science, for fortune, to make a living, to construct, to detonate, to map and to learn. It was also the name her Dad had given to the imaginary team of explorers led by Jules Valiance in his bizarre exploits with the countless wonders of the Worlds Below and Between.
Truth and lies, all mixed up, and now here was Jules Valiance.
Well, she thought, why not? I’ve lost my mind, so anything goes.
“What was your father’s name?”
The question took Elise by surprise. Jules had been so quiet.
“Clark.”
“I don’t remember a Clark St. Jacques. How does he know of me?”
“This is my dream, so it doesn’t need to make sense.”
“Hmm. And you are my ghost, so your secrets are of the grave and will require extraction by paranormal instruments more complex than I now carry in my man pouch.”
“Your what?”
“My man pouch. Shut up, idiot ghost.”
Elise laughed out loud, and it felt good.
“Man pouch.”
“Shut up.”
“Whatever.”
Jules held his hand up and stopped stone cold still.
Is he really going to hit me, she thought.
“We are being followed.” His whisper was so low that she could barely hear.
Silence for a beat.
“I don’t hear…”
“We are being followed. Run.”
Jules pulled the two guns from under his coat and turned. He fired one shot over Elise’s head, back into the tunnel.
The noise was so loud that it hurt. Her ears hummed. Guns on television or in movies seem so cool and easy but in person, when they explode near your head, they’re scary beyond words.
“Run!”
She did. He fired again, following her at a sprint.
“Don’t look back, idiot ghost.”
And this time Elise did as she was told. She ran as hard and as fast as she could.
If she had glanced back she would have seen a shimmer, a glow that moved along the ceiling toward them as quickly as they could run. Behind this glow was a wave of pure black, a dark that moved.
Elise was fast. She was surprised then, when the old man passed her. She was going as hard as she could. Her legs ached. How long do we have to run?
Jules turned and fired once more as he ran. Elise’s ears were numb and her head was spinning, the noise playing games with her balance.
She fell.
She looked up and Jules continued to run for a moment. Then, he stopped and turned.
“Stay down, girl.”
She glanced over her shoulder and saw the glow and the darkness coming toward them.
Jules fired again.
The things chasing them scattered and slowed and she could see what they were.
Shadow men, the Men of Many Eyes. And something else. First glowing like the strange fungus on the walls, then the color and texture of the stone floor, then standing at a crouch and becoming dark red. She was beautiful and weird and horrible and her skin was like a separate, living thing. A skin painting, always changing.
“Now, let’s go.”
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Jules picked her up and swatted her on the back of the head. He ran and so did Elise, as fast as they could.
*
Yes, Scynda knew now with certainty that the man was dangerous. She pursued, but with caution. The Men of Many Eyes followed her, followed them. The human’s weapon had not found its target, but it was a deadly thing and would be respected.
*
The tunnel split off into four directions and a ten meter ladder led up to the stone ceiling. Elise and Jules stared up the ladder into the light from the flow fungus babies. There was an iron wheel, a porthole, above their heads.
Fungus clung to the ladder and Jules pulled the stuff away. It burned and clutched at him and he was quick to toss it far to the side. The fungus left red marks where it had stung him.
Jules climbed the ladder, clamped hands on the iron wheel and tried to turn.
Nothing.
He strained again, hard this time. There was the slightest groan of metal on metal.
Elise stood at the bottom of the ladder looking off into the glow of the tunnel. She scanned for any sign of those weird scary things that were chasing them.
There. Something moved, black against the glow. The things were coming.
“Hurry.”
She climbed the ladder to below Jules. He was straining hard against the wheel and it was moving inch by inch but ever so slowly.
“Hurry.”
“Say that again and I will kick you off the ladder with great violence.”
Jules twisted the wheel again, his knuckles turning white. It moved, but not much. This would take time that they didn’t have.
He swung around to the other side of the ladder.
“Girl. Climb up as high as you can.”
Elise climbed until her head was just below the iron wheel. She was on one side of the ladder, Jules on the opposite.
Twenty feet below them the shadows of the Men of Many Eyes moved from all directions to the base of the ladder.
Scynda, glowing like the fungus babies, stood right below them.
Elise could see her clearly for the first time, the skin rippling with changing colors and textures, her nakedness, her eyes as big as saucers with lashes that moved like feelers. A mouth both human and fish with tiny, sharp teeth. She was beautiful, feminine, and horrifying.
She sang. That weird mouth opened and out came a sound like a high wail. It was musical in moments, discordant in others, a song, a moan, then ending in a hiss.
Jules was paying no attention. He had the wheel moving now, slowly, but moving. Iron rust like sand drifted down into his sweaty red face.
The woman creature reached up with a slender glowing hand and wrapped her six fingers around the ladder. She climbed and sang as she came.
Elise drew her feet up as high as they would go.
The dark men climbed.
“Hey,” Elise said.
Jules said nothing. His focus was on the wheel. It groaned and shrieked as he turned.
“Help.”
And then the wheel made a sound like a gasp and lifted up.
“Into the porthole,” he said.
Jules pulled one of his guns and fired down. Elise scrambled up into the hole where the wheel had been, her fingers numb with panic, terrified that she would slip and fall.
The slug hit one of the dark men square between the hideous red eyes. Dark liquid sprayed out and the Man of Many Eyes dropped.
Jules took a deep breath and aimed. The female creature had been swaying left and right. He shot center left and the bullet passed through her shoulder, a molten arrow, and blood followed it.
Scynda sang a discordant cry and released the ladder. She dropped to the ground, the lurkers following, and dashed off into the tunnel’s blue glow.
Jules slipped the revolver back into the holster. He took a heavy breath and climbed up through the porthole.
The heavy iron wheel shut with a thunderous clang behind them.
There was no light. Elise could hear Jules next to her, could smell his funk, but the darkness was absolute.
A shrieking metallic sound slammed the floor near her feet. A lock on the porthole.
A rustling of cloth. A click. Jules had his lighter in hand and the glow of the flame revealed dark wood and brick.
They were in a narrow little room. There was a brick wall directly behind the porthole in the floor. An ornate Turkish carpet led down the narrow, wood-lined hall to something lighter. They walked closer and Elise saw it was a white door.
The flame of the lighter went out. Elise could hear Jules shake it and try to spark it to life again.
Nothing.
Jules led her to the door in the blackness.
He knocked three times, then twice, then once, then three times again.
There was a long moment, and then an answering knock from the other side repeated the pattern.
Jules knocked “shave and a haircut.”
The door responded with “two bits.”
It opened inwards.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
DINNER BELL
THERE WAS NOBODY there.
Who had answered his knock?
There were ships in the shadows. Elise felt as if she’d stepped into a lost ocean of boats, ships, nautical gear of all kinds. The room was vast, lit through the windows by the red glow of the sandstorm moon outside.
A museum?
Yes. This was definitely a museum, one so large that just stepping into it felt like leaping off of a building into space. There was a full sized war ship, a glass case with a model submarine, a sailboat hanging from the ceiling. Windows as tall as a three story building lined the walls, some of them cracked and some shattered. The cold wind whipped through the breaks, bringing sand and noise.
Elise followed Jules. He looked left and right, scanning, as if looking for those horrible things that had been chasing them.
Who had answered his knock?
Were there ghosts here?
She was tired and cold. Her stomach rumbled. She had been too busy with murderous shadow creatures, metal eating ants, and collapsing world landmarks to worry about food, but now she realized that she was really hungry. She reached into a side pocket of her backpack and pulled out a candy bar.
Elise considered giving Jules a bite. She didn’t.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“Musee national de la Marine. The National Navy Museum. Be quiet.”
“Who answered the knock? Where are they?”
“You are a child, so I must remember that your brain isn’t properly formed yet. Be quiet.”
“No.”
“Fine. It’s a code to an automated system that opens the security door into the museum. It recognizes the knocking pattern and replies with two knocks of its own and opens the door. Or maybe it was Jorge, the tiny mime who lives under the replica of the Trieste and who has been pining for my return. Maybe it was a trick of the wind. Perhaps this is a plot to capture a little idiot girl. Now be quiet.”
Elise munched on her candy bar.
The museum was a wonder. She knew this, even in the gloom. The space was a hall of glorious treasures, memories of exploration and sea going adventure. This was the kind of place that Jules Valiance, her Dad’s version of Jules Valiance, would have loved.
Elise wandered over to a massive collection of shining ship’s bells. There were dozens of bronze and brass bells, different sizes and designs, artfully displayed with little plaques that told of their ships and their histories.
She couldn’t resist. Elise tugged on one of the little ropes and a bronze bell rang out. The sound made her smile.
Jules grabbed her hand and stopped the bell. His grip was so tight it hurt.
“Hey,” she said.
“How stupid can you be?”
Elise pulled her hand away. She was too angry to speak, but she knew that he was right. What was she thinking? It had been a stupid move, but she wasn’t about to admit it.
&n
bsp; “You didn’t have to freak out.”
Jules stopped and turned. He raised his right eyebrow and glared at her, the glare an opossum might give a hornet that wouldn’t stop stinging its nose.
He started to speak but was interrupted by the sound of the entire three story glass window to their right imploding and showering glass in a hurricane of knife blades.
Elise didn’t know how, but it was as if Jules was faster than the explosion. She was swept up in his arms and protected before she could think, before she could stop chewing the candy. They landed with a hard thump and she lost her breath as they rolled under a huge model ship. She gasped. She’d never had her breath knocked out. It was a horrible feeling. Elise thought she was dying. The sound of a thousand shards of glass cascading around them was a wall of white noise. Her eyes were closed tight. She couldn’t breath. She couldn’t think.
Jules was holding her close, his coat covering them both.
The glass stopped falling and her breath mercifully came back with a rush. She looked out from under the protection of his smelly coat.
An avocado green nightmare was coming through the emptiness where the window had once been. This nightmare was as big as a bus, sickly green, with tentacles thick as telephone poles and yellow eyes that were…those eyes…those awful eyes. As harsh and as hateful as the sun burning down on a dying man.
It was a squid, a giant squid, and it was a horror.
Elise started to scream and Jules placed his hand over her mouth.
The squid slithered into the vast hall of the museum. How? Squids live underwater. This dissonance, this incongruence, made it even more frightening. The tentacles reached out, searching, touching everything. The eyes searched.
It moved across the floor, the mantle held high. A roving arm rimmed with tire sized, tooth lined suction cups clasped a full scale replica of an 18th century warship. The thing moved, lightning fast, and attacked the model. All eight arms and the two tentacles whipped around the ship in a heartbeat, in a frenzy. The wooden ship shattered and splintered under the awful pressure of the beast. There was a sound, a sound like chopping wood, and Elise realized that it must be the creature’s beak tearing into the ship, slicing and rendering in a frenzy.
Jules pushed them further back under the model and into the darkness, trying to hide them. They bumped into something. Elise looked over her shoulder and saw a dark red shell.
