"Maybe he's on the asylum intercom," Niko groaned.
Leonard shook his head, concentrating on the dial. "I know the sound of a squawkbox when I hear it. I haven't heard a damn thing on this since the shit went down, but it could just be anyone who survived is caught somewhere and needs to stay quiet. Or they had bigger fish to fry, injuries and such."
Ben didn't care, frankly. Demont was out there, which meant there might also be other survivors. Joe the mechanic could be there with him, or someone else who might have access to the security hatch code. "I'm gonna go find Lilian," he said.
Leonard nodded, still fiddling with the dial as if it made any difference. The thing was probably broken. "We'll catch you up," he said, distracted.
Ben stepped out into the hall. The next corridor appeared to be another patient wing, with the same lime-green doors recessed into the walls at regular intervals. It sloped downward to the left. A sign with an arrow pointed that way, labeled MORGUE. At the opposite end, Lilian stood looking into an open doorway. He'd expected her to have gotten a lot farther by now. He called out her name.
She turned, fear showing on her pale face even from a distance.
With his back toward the morgue, Ben glanced into the room to his immediate right. The walls had cracked and the mattress had been flipped off the bed. A woman—at least he thought it was a woman—sat in a chair in the corner of the room. Her jaw had been carved off and lay in her lap on a blood-stained white sheet. She held a scalpel in her right hand and she jittered uncontrollably, blood and saliva dripping from the wound and from the scalpel and the hand she held it with, her uvula lolling as she made glottal sounds as if she were attempting to speak.
Ben looked away and hurried past the room. As Niko and Leonard finally shuffled into the hall, Leonard looked into the room and gagged. "Jesus, what the fuck!"
Through the next open door, frantic spirals were being drawn in charcoal on the walls, the bedspread, the floor. The overpowering cooked onion stench of bad body odor wafted out of the room but other than the levitating charcoal there seemed to be no physical entity within.
Ben held his nose and moved on. Behind the next a wiry elderly man with a straggly gray beard and a diaper around his waist stood beneath the caged window, digging fingers into a raw hole in his stomach and pulling out loops of intestines that splatted wetly on the floor at his feet. The room smelled of feces and sour cabbage.
As he rushed past several more doors, consciously avoiding looking inside, another sharp burst of static made him jump, and Demont spoke again. Leonard had been right. No mistaking that tinny walkie-talkie sound. "This is Demont Hudson. I'm a Suicide Prevention Officer. If anyone out there can hear me, please respond."
Wherever the walkie was, Lilian made no move to answer the call. She was still staring into the final room at the end of the hall.
"Lil," he said sharply. "What's wrong?"
Lilian raised her hand very slowly and put a finger to her lips. He came to her side, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her. He hadn't noticed how cold it had gotten in here until just then. When he looked into the room, he saw why. Fresh snow had powdered the floor. A man in boxer shorts lay propped up against the wall. The nun knelt between his legs, the heart shape of her bruised, bare ass, slashed with angry red strap marks, facing the door as she leaned over the man's groin, working with her hands between his legs.
Between this macabre scene and the door lay the walkie-talkie.
"Ah, forget it," Demont muttered to himself. "There's nobody out there."
Static. Then nothing, just the sound of rending flesh as the nun severed Joe the mechanic's manhood.
Ben wanted to make a mad dash for the walkie but fear had frozen him in place. He could still feel the phantom pressure of her breasts against his chest. He could still taste her rancid breath and the sour apple mush she'd forced into his mouth with her tongue.
Her shy boy.
"Oh, shit—Joe!" Leonard cried, standing next to Ben.
"Is he…?" Niko lurched up to the doorway and dropped back against the wall opposite with a groan of exhaustion. "I gotta sit down," he said. Ben heard the man sit on the floor behind him but he did not turn around. He couldn't turn around. His eyes were fixed on the woman in the room.
The nun pulled back her right hand with a squelching sound and came up with a bloody fist full of wriggling genitals. She turned her head to the side, holding up the man's severed penis like an offering to God, and let the blood drip off its tip onto her curled tongue.
Leonard gagged. "Ugh, I think I'm gonna puke."
The nun bit the head off the penis and chewed, her lips smacking wetly.
True to his word, Leonard hurried off to the side, planted his hands against the wall and splashed vomit between his boots.
The nun's black eyes twitched toward the doorway.
Ben flinched but didn't move, held by her dark gaze.
"Oh my, my, my…" The nun licked blood from her lips. "My. Shy. Boy."
Lilian turned to him. He felt her studying him but he didn't react. He couldn't look away and he couldn't speak. All he could do was watch, despite not wanting to see, while the nun chewed on the mechanic's grisly member until she swallowed hard and uttered a satisfied, "Ahh!"
"We need that walkie," Lilian said, still eyeing him.
"I can't…" Ben shook his head. "I can't go in there."
"Did she do something to you?"
He opened his mouth to reply and swallowed the nun's putrid taste. He couldn't tell her. What would he say? It didn't matter anyway. All he could manage was a nod.
Lilian stepped forward, one foot into the room. Ben snatched out and grabbed her arm.
"Don't."
"I'm not her type," she said, shaking off his hand to raise the stun gun. "This bitch is mine."
The nun turned and stood in one lithe movement, planting her bare feet apart, standing now between Lilian and the walkie-talkie. Drenched to the elbows with blood like she was wearing fancy red velvet gloves, her fingers dripped as she wiped her lips with the back of a hand and showed her rotten, blood-pinked teeth in a smile.
With her attention diverted, Ben glanced at the man between her legs. The boxers had been jerked down below his ass. His hairy belly sagged over his lap but enough of his groin was visible to see the black, gaping hole oozing yellow fatty tissue where his genitals should have been. Combined with the stink of Leonard's puke, Ben nearly threw up himself.
"How'd you like a mazel tov cocktail, bitch?" Lilian said. It was one of her favorite taunt phrases from when she and Ben used to game together. But even nostalgia couldn't wash the stain of sin from his lips.
The nun's head twitched within the cowl, her black eyes watching Lilian's cautious approach. "The shy one belongs to you, is that so?"
"He doesn't belong to anybody," Lilian said, fear quavering in her voice. "He's my friend!"
"Pity you didn't have him yourself. Virgins make such delightful little playthings." The nun grinned, her teeth slick with the mechanic's dark blood. "What's the matter, shy-boy?" Her voice had deepened to a gurgling, almost masculine growl. "Pussycat got your tongue?"
The ghost roared and charged at Lilian, her jaws opening impossibly wide, a gaping black hole filled with razor-sharp teeth. Lilian pulled the trigger as the nun pounced, rising off the floor. The charge struck the dead woman between her jostling breasts and her dark eyes bulged in surprised terror. She howled. Her form glowed a brilliant white for a moment, her head and limbs twisting and jerking, and in that frenetic moment, her face became Garrote's face and he howled in impotent rage, his ghostly limbs stretching out from the nun's shuddering body to grab at the arms of his destroyer.
Lilian stepped back out of his reach. In the next moment Garrote and the ghost he'd infected burst in a flurry of snow that cascaded down over Lilian's head and shoulders and the floor at her feet.
After a moment Lilian turned, breathing heavily, a ghost of a smile on her lips. The
snowflakes had already melted, no trace of the nun of Garrote left in the room. "That was kind of awesome," she said with an anxious laugh. "I don't think you'll have to worry about her anymore."
"I'm sorry," he began, wanting to explain his fear to her. "I couldn't—" He shook his head again, unable to put it into words that wouldn't mortify him. What had happened was far worse now, knowing Garrote may have been controlling the nun from the very beginning, that he hadn't just had her rotten tongue in his mouth but the writer's as well. That he'd had Garrote's filthy tongue down his throat.
Lilian hugged him. He hugged her back weakly, wary of the sticky stiffness below his hips.
"Heckuva job, little lady," Leonard said behind them.
Lilian let Ben go and bowed theatrically. She tucked the stun gun into her back pocket and stooped to pick up the walkie. Raising it to her lips she pressed the button, then let it go again, hesitating. "Wish me luck?" she said.
"Just call him already," Ben said, huffing in annoyance. The quicker they figured out their next move the sooner they could get out of this fucking awful place.
Lilian pressed the call button and held the walkie to her lips. "Demont, this is Lilian Roth. Do you copy?"
A squall of static. Everyone waited, anxious, hoping he'd respond.
"Demont Hudson, do you copy?" she said, a touch of panic in her voice.
Nothing but static. She lowered the walkie with a groan of disappointment. Ben felt it too.
"Demont here," the man said frantically on the other end. "Boy, am I glad to hear your voice!"
Ben could see Lilian was trying to keep her excitement in check but she was smiling from ear to ear. "Not as glad as we are to hear you," she said over the walkie. "Where are you?"
"I'm at the prison," Demont said. "Where are you all at?"
"We're at the sanitarium," Ben said.
"That's not too far from me. Think you can get here in one piece?"
"We'll definitely try," Lilian said with a hopeful smile.
"Great. I've got the place fortified. I'm pretty sure we could ride this out until help comes but… I need you to do me a little favor first."
"What?" Ben asked.
Lilian frowned at him. She pressed the call button and repeated the query.
"There's an automotive museum, just a little out of your way. This generator's gonna conk out soon if I don't feed it some juice, and it's the only thing keeping this place safe. Think you could get some gas for me, Lilian?"
She looked to the others questioningly. Ben nodded. He didn't think they'd be likely to find any gas even at the automotive museum but it wouldn't hurt to say they would try. Whether they did or not was still up for debate.
"Okay, we can do that," she said. "We'll be there soon."
"Good luck," Demont said. "Over and out."
Lilian jumped up and down, the buttons on her jean jacket tinkling like little bells of joy. "We're saved, we're saved, we're saved!" she cheered.
Ben wished he could be so certain. They'd be walking right through the front doors of the most dangerous, most haunted prison in the world. It didn't seem like a very smart plan at all to him. But Demont was there and somehow, he was still alive. That had to count for something.
"Hey, let's not throw a party just yet, little lady. We still gotta get there. Right, Niko?"
Niko didn't answer. The man was sitting against the wall in a pool of blood, his face entirely gray, his brown eyes staring at the ceiling, lifeless and unblinking. He was dead. First Allison and now Niko.
Who else, before this day was over? Ben wondered. How soon until it happens to the rest of us? Will any of us make it out of this fucking place alive?
"Aw, buddy…" Leonard crouched beside his friend. His knees popped and he grimaced, his eyes welling with tears. "Man, I am so sorry. It shoulda been me, bud." He closed Niko's eyes, shook his head. "All the times you saved my ass, it shoulda been me."
A moment of silence passed before Leonard looked up from his friend's lifeless body. "Let's go," he said. "Niko would've wanted us to carry on without him." With that he headed off down the hall in the opposite direction, hanging his head. Lilian gave a last lingering look at Niko and followed.
Ben hung back, feeling like he needed to say something. Regardless of all that had happened today, the man had given him a break letting him through the gate despite his medical condition. Like Leonard, he'd also saved their asses more than once. But Ben had betrayed Niko to get here. He'd lied to him by omission. The lighter fluid he'd sneaked in sloshed as he knelt beside the man.
"I'm sorry, Niko," he said. "I'm gonna make sure those two get out of here alive. Whatever it takes. My heart is strong enough, I promise."
He stood there a moment, not sure exactly what he was waiting for. Maybe he hoped Niko's ghost would respond to him. Make the lights flash. Jingle the keys on his belt. Anything. When nothing happened for another long moment, he unsnapped the keys from Niko's belt. It felt a bit like robbing the dead but he knew if they came across an instance where keys were needed and he hadn't taken them he would regret it. Then he stood, leaving Niko in silence.
"Where to now?" he asked as he caught up with Lilian and Leonard at the end of the hall.
"The exit's not far from here." Leonard indicated ahead with a nod. His eyes were red from crying. "Just down this next hall, I think."
"Great. Let's get out of here."
"Agreed," Lilian said.
They turned the corner. Ahead of them the tram tracks went under a set of double doors recessed in the green marble wall. A weathered copper sign to the left of the doors said HYDROTHERAPY.
Stopping there, Leonard said, "What I don't get is, how come I couldn't call your buddy up on my walkie?"
"I thought you said he was using a different frequency," Ben said.
"I thought that. But I searched through the whole dial while ya'll were talking." The ex-Marine shook his head. "I couldn't get a damn thing."
"Maybe there's something wrong with your radio," Lilian suggested.
Leonard looked down at the thing hanging from a clip on his belt and shrugged, then nodded. "Maybe." He pushed open one of the doors and held it for them. Ben stepped through first. Lilian entered behind him.
The hydrotherapy room was tall and wide, the ceiling a series of arches, the whole space tiled with green marble squares. It smelled like chlorine, reminding Ben of the school pool and the bullying he'd had to deal with in the locker room before he'd been pulled from school, where their gym teacher had never kept watch. In a way he was glad he'd never had to go back there, despite homeschooling having made him even more of an outcast. More than the pain, the beatings at the hands of kids much bigger and stronger than him had been a constant source of embarrassment. In a way, his heart attack could have been seen as a blessing, although he'd never think of like that, especially after today.
The tram tracks ran between two large swimming pools filled with clear, aqua-tinted water, where the four connected tram cars had stopped. Like the ones they'd seen upstairs, each was large enough to seat four passengers. The space between the train and the pool was narrow, and several people were still seated in them, slumped over the bar and the sides, clearly dead, their clothes and hair damp as if they'd drowned sitting up in their seats. Very likely, they had.
"Awesome," Lilian said sarcastically.
"We could go around," Leonard suggested.
Water trickled and slopped in the pool and in the bathtubs along the walls. Steam rose from them like the remnants of dispersed ghosts, too thick to see what might lie beneath the blue-green water.
"I'll take my chances," Ben said. "At least we know what's in the train."
"I guess," Lilian said. She began edging her way along the right-hand pool like she was walking a tightrope, careful to avoid the dead within the train.
Leonard stopped at the edge of the pool and turned. Ben had been watching the water and almost bumped into him. "That girl is tough as nails," the man sa
id. "Are you two, uh…? You know."
Ben sputtered to cover a blush. "Dude, she's practically my sister."
"Yeah, but she's not, right? Hey, man, I'm just askin'. If I was in your shoes…" Leonard let the thought linger, the implication more than enough.
Already standing on the other side of the pool, Lilian shot back a look of suspicion. "What are you guys talking about?"
"Nothing," Ben said hurriedly. He frowned at Leonard before the man could open his big mouth and sell him out.
"Well, come on then. I can't wait all day."
Leonard began across the narrow gap, walking surprisingly lightly for a man of his size. Ben followed a few paces behind, watching the bodies for movement. A man in a blue hat and a WWE T-shirt riding over his pale white gut was sitting upright in the back of the second car, trapped by the safety bar. His glassy eyes stared straight ahead, mouth open, tongue touching his lower teeth. His right arm hung over the side, close enough to reach out and grab Ben's legs.
Ben glanced into the pool as he sidled past. A woman in a pink dress floated face-down on a pool noodle near the ladder. Her dress had bloomed around her waist, revealing the black bicycle shorts she wore beneath. As he got closer, he realized it wasn't a pool noodle, it was a hairy leg, severed at the hip. The rest of the man's body was nowhere in sight.
"It's about time," Lilian said as Ben reached the other end of the pool.
Directly ahead of them an archway led into another high-ceilinged room. On the other side were several steam cabinets. Ben recognized them from research into old psychiatric treatments and torture devices. Each cabinet had a single hole for the manic patient's head to stick out of while their physicians steamed them like clams. It was meant to be calming. It wasn't.
A long, groaning creak came from one of the steam cabinets. Its doors opened and a man in a hospital-green gown rose from inside. He wore fuzzy slippers and held a cleaver. Ben recognized him immediately. Lilian grabbed his hand and squeezed it with a look of sheer panic.
It was Morton Welles.
Another cabinet swung open, then a third, releasing two more of Dr. Death's zombies, a man and a woman with the same prefrontal lobotomy scars on their foreheads, their lower lips drooping, their eyes rolled back as if searching for the portion of brain the doctor had cut out of their heads. The three zombies stood on either side of the door, making escape through there unlikely if not impossible.
Ghostland Page 17
