Deep Fear

by Jethro Wegener

  Ekkow fired a couple more times and slung his weapon over his shoulder while drawing his pistol from its holster, all in one smooth movement.

  “We need to leave,” Calder said, putting more rounds on-target.

  The three men started to retreat, firing as they went, the shell casings bouncing off the wall and hitting the floor. The three creatures kept coming. Even the one with only half a head, its ragged wound leaking black fluid. They screamed as they came, an unholy, inhuman cry.

  “Once we get around that corner,” Calder shouted over the deafening gunfire, hoping Billy and Ekkow were hearing him, “we fucking leg it!”

  They kept moving back until they reached the junction, and Calder pushed Billy forward, yelling at him to run. They took off, Billy stumbling at first, but he found his feet soon enough. Behind them, the creatures continued to scream. The thumping of their boots was joined by the sound of skittering claws, and then the laughter started.

  Jackson’s laugh. It echoed from everywhere and nowhere at once, following them as they ran. Calder risked a look over his shoulder, seeing the things coming closer.

  “Kitchen!” he yelled.

  Ekkow acknowledged. The kitchen had fire doors—strong sturdy ones that could lock in the event something went wrong. Calder hoped that they would keep the creatures out.

  They continued to run, their lungs burning, sweat pouring off of them. Billy was flagging, the skinny man nowhere near the level of fitness of the two soldiers. Ekkow grabbed his shoulder, pulling him along as they went. It wasn’t far now, just one more turn.

  They careened around the corner, and Calder heard a screech behind him. He glanced back to see a creature sail past his field of vision. If they hadn’t have turned, it would have landed on their backs. It hit the wall with a thud, unable to stop itself. A scream of frustration escaped its mouth.

  Then they were through the door. Ekkow threw Billy forward. He crashed into a countertop, sending pots and pans clattering everywhere. Calder ignored him, instead spinning around and slamming the doors shut. Ekkow helped him bolt them, and they both braced themselves against the doors.

  They waited, breathing hard. It didn’t take long for the doors to rattle as the creatures threw themselves into them.

  Thud.

  Thud.

  But the doors barely moved and after another couple of attempts, they heard more screams of frustration, and then the sound of skittering claws retreating.

  Calder looked to Ekkow, both of them soaked in sweat and breathing hard.

  “Fuck me sideways.”

  26

  Priya had no idea where they were. They’d just sprinted away from the darkness, blindly taking corners wherever they could. There had only been one objective—escape. And now they were paying the price for it.

  Thompson didn’t know where he was either, even though he was more together than he had been in a while. He wasn’t totally out of it anymore, but he wasn’t all there either. He kept casting glances in Priya’s direction when he thought she wasn’t looking. It was getting disturbing.

  Finally, the featureless grey gave way to plush carpets as they pushed through a door into a huge casino. Slot machines, roulette tables, poker tables—the place was fully equipped, and she even spied a bar at the other end of the room. Overhead was another glass dome, showing nothing but the darkness of the ocean outside.

  “Fuck it,” Priya said after a moment of deliberation, heading straight for the bar.

  She hopped over it, selected a fine bottle of bourbon, pulled the cap off, and chugged it straight from the bottle. The burn felt good as the alcohol slid its way down her throat.

  She offered the bottle to Thompson. “Want some?”

  He shook his head. Shrugging, she took another pull.

  “How’s your dream feeling now?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “All of this is your dream, isn’t it? And now it’s soaked in blood. How does it feel?”

  He looked at her strangely. “You talk as if I wanted this.”

  “Two men died before this project was finished. Most people would have taken that as a sign.”

  “That wasn’t my fault. I searched for them. How do you even know that?”

  “I’m a journalist. I do my research.”

  “You just want to destroy me, don’t you?”

  His eyes had taken on an odd sheen, the veins on his neck popping as his muscles tensed. Priya took a step back, thankful that the bar was between them.

  “You’re destroying yourself, Thompson. You think this place can open after all of this? It’s finished. And you don’t seem to care.”

  “Of course I care!” he said, snarling. “My friends died out there!”

  “Were they friends? Or bags of money with legs?”

  “You bitch. You’re just like all the rest. Fucking cunts, all of you. You just want to destroy me.” His hands were on the bar now. “All this fucking Me Too shit. All because women like you want to destroy successful men.”

  Priya knew she should have been worried, or at least a little scared. But she wasn’t. She’d met men like Thompson before. Men who thought women were nothing more than objects. And after all she had seen this day, this man didn’t scare her.

  “We’re not trying to destroy you. You’re perfectly capable of doing that all by yourself.”

  “I could kill you, you know,” he said, very calmly. “No one would know.”

  There was something about the way he said it that chilled the blood in her veins. So she smashed the half-empty bottle of bourbon across the side of his head.

  27

  “You think they’re still coming?” Anna asked.

  Jones’ side had really started to hurt, the pain seemingly getting worse with each breath. Each inhale was a blade stabbing straight into his ribs. He was trying his best to hide his grimaces. They had already tried the radio.

  “Honestly? I think they ran into some trouble. Those things are probably everywhere.”

  “So, what do we do?”

  Jones thought about it. The Kingdom was probably crawling with those creatures by now, and they were pretty much canned goods at the moment. They were hidden for now, but if one of those things found them, there was no escape.

  “Well, we have two options: Stay here and wait for rescue, or head out and look for a way out.”

  “Both are equally as bad as each other, aren’t they?”

  Jones nodded. “I’m not going to lie, yes, they are. But I really do think that Calder got waylaid by something. Priya is out there somewhere, and I want to find her.”

  “You’re not leaving me here while you go poking around,” Anna said, reading his thoughts. “You are way too badly injured to go it alone, and I’m not some fucking damsel in distress. What we need to do is link up with the others.”

  “I guess the choice is made then.”

  “You’re not going to argue with me?”

  “It wouldn’t do any good. Besides, I’m pretty damn sure nowhere in this fucking place is safe.”

  They didn’t have much in the way of weapons. One empty sidearm and a tactical knife did not an arsenal make, but they had no other choices.

  Anna suggested that they first find a map on one of the walls, and see if they could head in the direction of the submarine bay, while trying the radio intermittently to let Calder know where they were. In the absence of good plans, Jones agreed it was the best they had.

  They started by cracking the door. Jones peeked out, listened, and then went out into the corridor. Looked left, then right, listened again, then motioned Anna out.

  They crept down the corridor, each step bringing waves of pain shooting through Jones’ side. He bit down hard, stifling his cries into grunts. There was a T-junction up ahead. Left or right?

  Knowing the general direction of the submarine bay, Jones turned left, and stopped dead. Standing in front of him was his brother.

  “Hey, bro,” Eugene said.

&n
bsp; He was wearing his desert BDUs. Dust covered him, parts of his uniform ripped to shreds. There was a horrifying, ragged, gaping hole in his side, exposing some of his organs. Half of his face was a bloody mess. His brain was exposed, a slimy pink mass that throbbed and undulated. One good eye stared back at Jones, full of the life and sparkle that Eugene always used to have.

  “Sorry about the mess,” Eugene said with a grotesque half-smile. “IEDs will do that to ya. What’s the matter, bro? You don’t want to give your brother a hug?”

  The thing in front of him raised its hands and stepped forward. Jones stared, his mouth agape, his mind trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

  “Come on, bro. I know I look different, but it’s still me. Remember when we used to wrestle as kids? I’d always lose, and you’d tell me that I’d get you next time. But I never did. We were supposed to sort it out when I got back from Afghan.”

  “What the fuck are you?”

  “I’m Eugene.”

  “No,” Jones declared, stepping back. “My brother is dead. He died in Afghanistan when an IED went off next to his vehicle.”

  “I never said I wasn’t dead.” The smile again. “Death is just a different state of being, bro.”

  “Jones, we have to go.” Anna was tugging his arm, trying to get him to move.

  “You should try it, bro. I mean, I can do this now.”

  Eugene reached into his gaping wound and fished around. There was a terrible, wet squelching sound as he did so.

  “Ah.” He pulled out his heart, still beating and bloody. He held it out. “I give you my heart, bro.”

  He started to laugh. It came from everywhere and nowhere, echoing down the corridor. Jones stared at his brother’s beating heart as it leaked fluids onto the floor. Bile rose in his throat.

  “What’s the matter? You don’t want something that comes from my heart. I tell you what—you take mine, and I’ll take yours.”

  Jones stumbled backward, Anna dragging him as best she could.

  “Run!” She was screaming, the words barely penetrating Jones’ stupor.

  Finally, his legs obeyed, and they were half-running, half-stumbling away from the laughing figure.

  “I’ll get it later, bro. Don’t you worry!”

  ***

  “Did you see any of them go down?” Calder asked. Billy and Ekkow shook their heads. “Fuck. Neither did I.”

  “I know they got hurt. And I blew off a couple of limbs for sure. But I have no idea if the fuckers actually stayed down.”

  “There were just so fucking many of them,” Billy said. “So fucking many.”

  “Best case, there are a few less now. Worst case, we did nothing.”

  “Bruv, we need better weapons.”

  “Like a fucking rocket launcher,” Billy said.

  Calder stared at him. “In a sardine can at the bottom of the ocean, you want us to use a rocket launcher?”

  “Oh. Right. Fuck. I should never have taken this fucking job, man.”

  “Ekkow is right. We need more weapons, more ammo. So we need to head to the armoury.”

  “What’s the plan, boss? Throw everything at them and see what works?”

  “Not like we have any other options, mate.”

  A pot clanged hard as it hit the floor. Calder and Ekkow had their weapons up almost immediately. That’s when they heard it. The clicking of claws above their heads.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Billy breathed.

  The two security officers remained silent, their eyes trained on where the clicking was coming from. It sounded like the thing was crawling along in the ceiling. Every now and then, it would stop to scratch around a bit. It was looking for a weak point, Calder knew.

  While the walls were thick steel, he wondered about the ceiling. Air vents, pipes, all kinds of things were up there—which meant that there was nothing but a thin bit of metal between them and the creature.

  Ekkow motioned behind him with his shoulder, a silent question. Calder shook his head. It was too dangerous to go back the way they came. He attracted Billy’s attention and pointed to the door at the other end of the rectangular room.

  A steel workbench separated the space, and Calder motioned Ekkow left so that he could take right. Billy followed Ekkow.

  Their eyes and weapons aimed upward, they started forward. The military men walked silently, rolling their feet with each step to minimise noise. Billy was slightly less quiet, but only just. His breathing was ragged, coming in short, sharp breaths.

  The creature continued to move around above them, its dreadful claws making ear-piercing screeching sounds as it dragged them across the metal above. The three men moved slowly, agonising over each step, each wanting to just sprint for the door in front of them.

  It seemed so far away. And they had no idea what could be waiting for them behind the door. The options ran through Calder’s mind, but he pushed them back, refusing to assume or make up scenarios. They would deal with whatever was behind the door when they came to it.

  And that’s when the door in front of them burst open, swinging inward and clanging into the hard steel wall with a terrific crash.

  28

  Several things happened at once.

  Billy let out a surprised yell. Ekkow and Calder brought their weapons down to aim at the door. Jones and Anna stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of the gun barrels aimed in their direction.

  And the ceiling fell apart behind Calder.

  He spun to see one of the creatures landing in the middle of a shower of splintered metal. Training took over and he put two bullets into the creature’s face before he had time to think.

  Ekkow joined in the fight with his shotgun. A deafening blast sent buckshot ripping into the thing’s stolen flesh, sending pieces and black goo flying. As the big man racked another shell into the chamber, the creature’s arm moved.

  It took a moment for Ekkow to register what had just happened. The thing’s arm had blurred, and suddenly there was a sharp pain in his right arm. He felt blood—hot, wet, sticky—rolling down his forearm. He looked to see a jagged piece of metal sticking out of the meat of his arm.

  Ekkow’s finger twitched on the trigger as the pain travelled to his brain. The blast from the shotgun knocked the weapon out of his weakened hand and ignited something flammable.

  Calder watched as the creature was suddenly engulfed in flames, its piercing shrieks causing him to stumble back and protect his ears. And then something amazing happened.

  The thing fell to its knees, and after a few moments, the shrieks died away as it continued to burn.

  “Fire,” Calder breathed. “We need to burn the fuckers.”

  “Calder!” Billy called.

  Billy was crouched next to Ekkow, trying to keep him from moving his arm. Calder leaped over the table.

  “Jesus Christ, bruv, this hurts,” Ekkow said.

  “Don’t fucking touch it, mate. Billy! Find some whiskey, there has to be some in here somewhere. Jones, get over here, help me get him up. Anna, grab the shotgun. We need to move now!”

  Everyone rushed to do as they were told, too stunned by everything that had just happened to argue. Both Ekkow and Jones grunted as the big man was lifted up.

  “You okay, Jones?”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  “Then let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  More skittering of claws urged them on. The doors behind them started to shudder as the things attacked them with renewed vigour. Ekkow shrugged out of the grip of the two men, saying he was fine to run.

  “Where to?”

  “Casino!” Calder yelled, glancing back over his shoulder. “We can barricade the door.”

  Anna struggled under the weight of the shotgun, so Jones grabbed it from her. He racked a shell into the chamber and fired. Something screamed, but Calder kept moving.

  Ekkow was falling behind, his injured arm leaving a trail of blood behind him. His vision was starting to blur. He stumbled, but Anna
just barely caught him, urging him on by pushing him from behind.

  “Covering!” Calder yelled, spinning and drawing his weapon in one smooth movement.

  Rounds tore into their pursuers as everyone rushed past, slowing the creatures down. Calder ejected his spent magazine and continued to run. Billy was leading the way, the bottle of whiskey clutched tightly in his hand.

  Jones’ side felt like it was on fire, each ragged breath bringing a wave of pain through his body. Stars blossomed in front of his eyes. More gunfire as Calder tried again to push the things back.

  Jones turned, racked a fresh shell, and fired again, not even able to aim. He was rewarded with another frustrated screech. He racked, pulled the trigger, and...

  Click.

  He swore. The chamber was empty.

  “Move!” Calder yelled and Jones started running again, his pace slowing with each step.

  Ekkow wasn’t much better off. He was losing blood and fast. He was contemplating giving up when the doors leading to the casino came into view. Expertly carved, perfectly varnished mahogany double doors stood wide open, inviting them into a world of slot machines, tables, and alcohol.

  Billy was through first, urging the others on as he stood aside. They piled in, Billy and Anna slamming the big doors shut behind them.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Billy exclaimed, leaning against the doors and taking a swig of whiskey.

  “Billy, get to the bar,” Calder said. “I want you to open every bottle they have. Anna, there should be a first-aid kit there as well—find it. Jones, watch the door. Ekkow, with me.”

  Everyone rushed to do their tasks. Jones took some shells out of Ekkow’s pocket and reloaded the shotgun. Calder sat the big man down with his back against the bar. He pulled off his belt and used it as a makeshift tourniquet, pulling it as tight as he could and giving the free end to Ekkow.

  “Bite on this, mate,” he said, putting it in his mouth. “Anna, I need that kit.”

  “Here!”

  Calder opened the kit. He pulled out the surgical alcohol and poured it over the wound on Ekkow’s arm. He checked to make sure that the jagged piece of metal hadn’t gone straight through his friend’s arm.