The Extreme Horror Collection

by Lee Mountford

  Eventually, the thing’s screams faded, and it dropped to the floor—lifeless. The smell of burning meat flooded the air.

  ‘Give it a minute,’ Jones commanded in a confident voice. ‘Then put the fire out. I’ll go and speak with the director.’

  ‘The changes are getting worse,’ one of the orderlies said, as others rushed to the aid of the man who had been stripped of an arm. ‘We can’t go on like this.’

  ‘We can, and we will,’ Jones replied, taking off the weapon and thrusting it into the arms of the complaining man. ‘We are all here for a reason, and that reason doesn’t change. If anyone has ideas about leaving, they will answer to me. Understand?’

  No one presented an argument.

  Satisfied, Jones walked away from the room, leaving his colleagues to put out the fire before it spread further.

  Reid quietly pulled the door closed before he was seen.

  His mind struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed. Monsters did not exist. He was a man of science, unwavering in his beliefs, so how did he reconcile his mind with what his own eyes had just shown him?

  He felt his heart beating quickly in his chest and realised he was sweating. A nervous energy flooded him.

  And something else concerned him as well; something an orderly had said after they put the creature down.

  The changes are getting worse.

  It was clear from what was said that Director Templeton was aware, at least to some extent, of what was going on here.

  Reid knew he needed answers and resolved to confront Templeton about this as soon as he could. He headed back to his office in a daze and decided to stay there for the night.

  First thing tomorrow morning, he would pay the director a visit.

  He fell into his seat and dropped his head into his hands—just what in the hell had he gotten himself involved in?

  Chapter 7

  The very next day, after a night without any sleep, Reid saw Director Templeton enter the Administration Ward and make his way straight to the Chapel—which was a morning routine for the director. It was here Reid planned to confront Templeton about what he had seen the previous night.

  The image of that inhuman thing—and what it had done to that orderly—had stuck with Reid ever since he’d witnessed it the previous night. Reid had used the time throughout the night to try to explain just what it was he had seen, and the best he could come up with was that the thing was indeed human, but had somehow transformed or mutated. He’d skimmed through his medical books in his office to try to find a known condition that could explain such a transformation, but had come up empty-handed.

  Nothing could explain what he had seen. At least nothing that he was aware of.

  However, he had a feeling that Templeton may have a little more knowledge of what was going on around here.

  Reid opened the door to the Chapel and stepped inside to see the director seated in one of the rows of pews at the front of the room. The walls here were white plaster, and on their surfaces were pictures and effigies of biblical figures. The ceiling was not as high as in other areas of the building, and the floor was an ugly white tile, giving the room quite an underwhelming feel. On either side of a central aisle, rows of uncomfortable-looking wooden pews stretched back from the front. At the head of these seats was a simple altar—a table covered in white cloth. This shrine housed a large, ornamental crucifix that stood centrally, with an open Bible beneath it. Either side of the thick book burned sticks of incense, filling the whole room with a pleasant aroma of jasmine.

  Other than the assorted ornaments and effigies, the only other thing of note was a large mirror that was affixed to one of the walls.

  Whether this room had always served as a Chapel, or whether it had been converted for such a purpose, Reid did not know.

  Nor did he care.

  Templeton did not hear him enter, or made no show of being aware of his presence, and continued to sit with his head bowed. Reid made his way over to the director, walking down the central aisle, and took a seat next to him.

  ‘I never took you for a religious man,’ Templeton said with his eyes closed. ‘Care to join me in prayer?’

  ‘No,’ Reid answered, ‘I’m not one for superstition or make-believe.’

  Templeton let out a small laugh. ‘To each his own.’

  ‘At least,’ Reid went on, ‘I thought I believed that. I was certain that all things supernatural, including demons and monsters and the like, were just made-up stories, the product of a weak or retarded mind.’

  ‘It sounds like you may have had a change of heart?’ Templeton said. His voice was flat, unreadable, and still he did not open his eyes.

  ‘Hard to say,’ Reid said, letting some of the frustration he was feeling show through in his tone. ‘But after last night, and what I saw, I don’t know what to think anymore.’

  ‘Is that right?’

  Templeton showed no emotion at all, other than perhaps a slight, amused curiosity—which only angered Reid more.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘that is right. And do you have any idea what it is that I saw?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ the director asked, the question throwing Reid off his train of thought. ‘If you saw something that has made you question the very beliefs you held as sacred, then surely there is a more important question to be answered?’

  ‘Really? And what would be more important than getting to the bottom of it? You don’t think the truth is important?’

  Now Templeton opened his eyes, and he turned to face Reid. ‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘do not misunderstand. The truth is the only important thing in our lives. But I’m afraid people cling to truths that are, in fact, outright lies, and they live their lives never actually knowing real truth. Just as you have been doing.’

  Reid shook his head. ‘More riddles? Really?’

  ‘Not riddles, Thomas,’ Templeton said, using Reid’s Christian name. ‘I am simply asking a valid question. You say you saw something that has perhaps changed the way you view the world. Instead of contemplating that, and what it means to you, you rush to me for answers. But you need to provide your own.’

  ‘I am getting tired of all this vague rubbish you spout, Director,’ Reid said, raising his voice.

  But Templeton just shrugged. ‘Then do not ask anything of me. Go about your business.’

  ‘Go about my business?’ Reid was yelling now, and he got to his feet, looking down on the other man. ‘Do you know what I saw last night? I saw something in the Main Hall that was, as far as I could tell, not human. Roaming around, attacking the people that work here, and in the end it was put down by a weapon that has no business being kept in a place like this. Yet there it was, spraying its flame and killing whatever the hell that thing was. A little coincidental that such a thing was here when needed, no? And I know that you know something about it, because the men practically said as much. Now, I want you to give me some straight answers for once and tell me just what the fuck is going on here.’

  Calmly, Director Templeton rose to his feet and looked Reid directly in the eyes. ‘No,’ he said simply, and smiled. Then he turned to leave.

  Yet again, Reid could not believe the audacity of the man.

  ‘What do you mean, no? That isn’t an acceptable answer,’ Reid said.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s the only one you are getting,’ Templeton shot back.

  ‘Not good enough. If you don’t explain this to me, then I’m leaving this place for good. You will be on your own here.’

  ‘That seems fair,’ Templeton said. ‘I’m sure you will find a plethora of opportunities just waiting for you when you do. Best of luck for the future.’

  ‘I want answers, Templeton!’ Reid screamed.

  Templeton reached the door to the room and turned back to face Reid. ‘Then find them, Doctor. I am not stopping you.’

  ‘Find them? Why not just tell me?’

  ‘Because truths that are given and not earned are not really valued. What w
e are doing here is hard to accept. We are learning truths about the things that govern our reality, our very existence. Something that transcends your science.’

  At this, Reid had a realisation. He looked around the room they were in, the one Templeton visited every morning, and then at the robes Templeton always wore.

  ‘God,’ Reid said. ‘This is something to do with God, isn’t it? What, you think you are somehow able to communicate with him?’

  Templeton let out a loud laugh and shook his head. ‘I’m afraid you haven’t got it worked out just yet, Thomas. But keep looking. The truth will reveal itself to you, I have faith in that.’

  And then he exited the room.

  ‘Goddamn it!’ Reid huffed.

  His attempt to extract the truth from Templeton had left him feeling more confused than ever.

  No answers, only more frustration.

  Then he remembered what Templeton had told him about answers: Find them. I am not stopping you.

  Fair enough, Reid thought to himself, intending to do just that.

  Chapter 8

  Adrian and his group—Jack, Trevor, Sean, and Seymour—were all seated in the Communal Area yet again. It was a change to the four walls of his room, but was fast losing its appeal—every day the same cycle.

  Rinse and repeat.

  And while not usually an environment of fun or jubilance, it felt especially on edge this morning as the group discussed what they had heard the previous night.

  Only it was different for Adrian—he hadn’t just heard it, he had seen it. However, he’d decided not to divulge that fact and let them speculate on their own. After all, what good would it do to explain that a creature beyond their understanding decapitated an orderly and then devoured the severed head?

  ‘I heard it, sounded like people were dying,’ Sean said. ‘What do you guys think it was?’

  Jack wrapped his long arms around his chest and hung his head. The conversation, coupled with what he had no doubt heard last night, were clearly upsetting to him. Adrian caught his attention and gave him a friendly smile. Jack noticed the gesture and returned it with one of his own.

  His smiles always seemed sad, somehow.

  ‘Someone got out,’ Seymour answered, confident in his own assessment. ‘Tried to escape. Can’t say I blame them.’

  If only they knew, thought Adrian.

  He guessed that most of the patients in the ward would have been aware of the commotion that had taken place, but Adrian doubted any had witnessed what he’d seen. It was only through sheer chance—having his hatch knocked open—that he’d seen anything at all, and the violence that had unfolded stayed with him, replaying itself over and over in his mind.

  The orderlies, too, looked different today. Usually, these men tried their very best to be intimidating and imposing—and if not, they showed outright indifference—but today they seemed… a little timid. When one especially agitated inmate started to act up, the orderlies were much slower in dealing with him than usual. Instead of instant action, they seemed hesitant, looking to one another for reassurance before diving in.

  Adrian had to wonder if the thing from last night was still prowling around here somewhere. In truth, he was surprised that he and his fellow patients had been let out of their cells this morning, same time as usual. Surely if that thing were still on the loose, then they wouldn’t have been allowed to out of their rooms, would they?

  ‘I hate this place,’ Sean said, once again picking at the angry red scabs on his arms. The man’s body was dotted with sores, caused not by needles, but by the continual scratching of his skin, clawing at an itch that could seemingly never be sated. And he constantly fidgeted as well—his left knee always bouncing and his fingers constantly picking at something. Adrian had no idea how long it took someone to get through opium withdrawal, but Sean was deep within it and showing no signs of coming out of the other side. ‘I’ve seen and heard some strange things in my time here, but nothing like that.’

  ‘Could it just be that someone got free?’ Trevor asked, with a quiet voice.

  ‘Of course,’ Seymour asserted, ‘and caused himself a little trouble, I’d wager.’

  ‘A little trouble?’ Sean asked. ‘Mild way of putting it. What I heard didn’t sound like any man.’

  ‘You’d be surprised at the sounds the mad can make.’

  ‘The mad?’ Trevor asked. ‘You mean, people like us?’

  ‘I ain’t mad,’ Seymour said, gritting his teeth. ‘So don’t lump me in with the rest of you.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that,’ Trevor said, tentatively. ‘It’s just… aren’t we all in here for the same reason?’

  ‘No,’ Seymour shot back. ‘Most of us ain’t in here by choice. I don’t wait around and hope for some miracle that will never come, like you. I was taken and thrown in here against my fucking will. Ain’t nothing wrong with me. And I’m sick of being stuck in this place with the rest of you crazies. You mark my words, I’m getting free of this shit-hole.’

  A smile formed on Adrian’s lips as he realised that Seymour was just as scared as the rest of them. The source of the large man's anger now made a little more sense to Adrian. It was fear. Getting angry was the only way he could deal with his situation.

  Adrian felt a small sense of pride at connecting the dots.

  In another life, maybe he could have been on the other side of the fence, helping people in need instead of being one of the infirmed.

  ‘Something funny, boy?’ Seymour asked, venom cutting through his voice.

  Adrian stared at him, not wanting to back down, but not wanting to start any unnecessary trouble, either. He shook his head. ‘No, nothing is funny.’

  ‘Then what the fuck are you smiling at?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Adrian said.

  Seymour was used to bullying the rest of the group, who would all fall in line when confronted, as Adrian had seen with Trevor. But Adrian was the new boy, and he got the feeling Seymour was still sizing him up, trying to figure out if he was a threat to Seymour’s alpha-male status, or simply a follower like the others.

  Then there was Jack, of course.

  Seymour never bothered the giant, but then again Jack was always silent. However, Adrian got the impression the docile man was always listening.

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ Seymour said, leaning forward and poking a fat finger into Adrian’s chest. ‘Now apologise, or I’ll rip off your jaw.’

  Adrian stayed silent at first, just wanting to defuse the whole situation. The orderlies may not be as quick to dive in today, but that didn’t mean they would ignore this little exchange for long. ‘If you keep this up, we’re going to wind up in trouble,’ he said.

  ‘Then wind your neck in,’ Seymour spat back, red-faced.

  ‘Can we just leave it, before someone hears?’ Trevor pleaded and looked around the room, nervously.

  Seymour leaned back in his chair, but still looked furious.

  ‘Apologise,’ he said to Adrian.

  Adrian cast a glance over to Trevor, who was looking back with pleading eyes. He then turned to Jack, who was still looking down to the floor with a sad, nervous expression. And Sean was pretending to ignore everything, instead concentrating on the sores on his arm, drawing blood as he picked at them.

  Adrian took a deep breath, then exhaled. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, slowly balling his hands into fists, an involuntary reaction that he hoped no one noticed.

  Seymour’s round face broke into a wide, self-satisfied grin, obviously pleased with the power he’d exerted over Adrian.

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Just make sure it doesn’t happen again, boy.’

  Adrian turned away, seething inside. Seymour had bullied and belittled Adrian—embarrassed him and knocked him down—and Adrian hated it. Seymour had briefly instilled in him the same sense of worthlessness that his father used to on a constant basis.

  And Adrian had to fight to keep the monster inside. He couldn’t allow it to show itself again. T
hankfully, the orderlies wheeled in the trays of food—dinner time. It would give him something to focus on other than strangling that fat fucker Seymour. Because he knew that giving in to those urges would be wrong.

  He wouldn’t be that person, he would not turn into his father.

  So he let it lie.

  For now.

  Chapter 9

  Brian Hodgson had been found living on the streets three years ago.

  He was the mental age of a child, despite being forty-two. With no one to care for him, or care about him, he had been a prime candidate for Arlington Asylum.

  And while the notes did not say exactly how he was brought in, Thomas Reid knew that if the man had any capacity to object, it would not have mattered. Reid set the notes down and observed his subject.

  Brian was currently submerged in a tin bath, which was filled with ice-water up to his neck. He had been this way for over twenty minutes, with orderlies on hand to make sure he stayed inside the freezing-cold water. Brian was a docile man, however, so the chances of him disobeying instruction was doubtful.

  His teeth chattered together as he drew breath, and Reid noted a blue tinge on his lips.

  Reid had no confidence that this treatment would prove successful, but wanted to see it through regardless, just to satisfy his own curiosity.

  That was one of the perks to Arlington Asylum—there were no restrictions over the treatments and therapies he performed, and he was given free rein to indulge his theories. Reid had worked in other facilities like this, and none in truth really cared for the patients they treated—looking at them as little more than objects to use for further study—but even those places had a chain of command and someone to answer to.

  Not here, however.