Deep Fear

by Jethro Wegener

  “Looks like it’s just in the meat, mate.”

  “Doesn’t feel like it,” Ekkow said through the belt.

  “Well, we gotta get it out.”

  He poured the alcohol all over his hands, rubbing them vigorously together, before finding a pair of latex gloves in the kit. He snapped them on, gave Ekkow a nod, and then slowly extracted the shrapnel. Ekkow gritted his teeth hard, the leather rubbing uncomfortably against them. As the thing came out with a sickening wet squelching, blood started to pour out of the wound.

  “Okay, now the hard part.”

  Calder wiped the wound down and pulled out what looked like a needle from the kit. He poured more alcohol over it and splashed some more over Ekkow’s wound. Ignoring the big man’s grunt, he pulled surgical thread out of the pack, threaded the needle, and slowly, painstakingly started stitching the gash closed.

  Ekkow bit down hard on the belt, his teeth almost going right through the thick, brown leather. Each stab of the needle sent a wave of pain shooting up his arm. Drool came out the sides of his mouth, and his eyes watered.

  “Okay, hard part done.”

  “So soon?” Ekkow quipped.

  The last of the alcohol went over the stitches before Calder put gauze on it and wrapped it tight with a bandage.

  “Calder,” Jones called, “it looks like the bastards are going to break down this door!”

  “Fuck. Anna, Billy. Find some towels! Soak them in alcohol and start stuffing them into the bottles!”

  “Really, bruv? Molotovs in an underwater hotel?”

  “I know, mate, but it’s the only way to stop those damn things. And I’m hoping the fire system will kick in once they’re dead. State of the art tech, remember?”

  Ekkow flexed the fingers on his injured hand. “Well, if we die, at least we die fighting.”

  “And on fire,” Anna quipped.

  Calder grinned. The doors rattled again.

  “Jones, get over here. Anna, Billy, hunker down behind the bar. Here,” Calder handed them a lighter, “when I say, light the towels and pass the bottles to us.”

  The three men readied their weapons. The doors rattled again as something banged into them. Cracks started to appear in the well-varnished wood. Calder knew it would only take a couple more hits. He was about to ask Anna for a Molotov when the doors suddenly flew inward. The one on the left flew off its hinges and crashed into a slot machine, sending glass and coins flying.

  But what stood in the door frame wasn’t a group of feral monstrosities. It was, in fact, an entirely different kind of horror.

  It was Eugene Jones.

  “Hello, Axel.”

  29

  Priya’s mad run had taken her down multiple corridors. Corridors that had become warped visions of their former selves. She had even lost her camera somewhere along the way.

  The carpet under her feet, once plush and expensive, squelched uncomfortably with each timid step she took. She didn’t dare too look what had soaked into it to make it that way, but it did not stop her mind conjuring up horrifying images.

  Even the walls offered no solace. Their once-polished mahogany texture had been twisted here and there with thick vestibules of flesh that pulsated like the arteries of some grotesque creature. Something thick, black, and viscous dripped from the ceiling from yet more of the strange flesh that seemed to run throughout this part of The Kingdom.

  Some horrifying force pulled Priya forward, when all she wanted was to turn and flee. At this point, even the crushing blackness of the deep sea was preferable.

  Ahead, the corridor split off in two different directions. The wall in front of her had something in it. She could barely make it out in the dim light, but it looked as if something was tangled within the weird tentacles. Two parts of it were moving, and a strange groaning sound could be heard.

  Step by agonising step, Priya advanced. The things in the walls seemed to react to her presence, pulsing faster as she passed, and then calming when she was out of range. The groaning was getting louder. To her sheer, unimaginable horror, she realised that it was human.

  Hhhhhhhhhhelppppppp…

  A bizarre glow suddenly appeared, as if from nowhere, giving Priya a good look at the thing in the wall. She gasped, holding her hand over her mouth and clenching her jaw shut to stem the rising tide of vomit that threatened to burst from her lips.

  The thing in the wall had once been human, but it was not one anymore. In fact, it looked like multiple people had been moulded together, as if their skin was as malleable as clay. Five different coloured eyes stared back at Priya, glistening and leaking pus. A mouth that seemed to have several sets of teeth opened, emitting that awful groan. Hands that seemed to be made of different skin tones clutched at her and she got the feeling that they were reaching out for aid.

  Finally, she could hold it no longer, and the bile spewed from her mouth. Her vomit mixed with the liquid on the carpet, creating an icky yellowish, black liquid that soaked into further into the once-plush threads.

  Once she had finally stemmed the flow of puke, Priya stood up shakily. The creature in the wall still reached for her, and she realised with horror that there were more things like it melded into the walls further down.

  She pulled out her phone, thankful that she still had battery left, and opened her camera app. She was a journalist, and she had a job to do. People needed to know about this—even if it killed her.

  ***

  Thompson watched her flee, taking pleasure in her fear. He saw it all clearly now—this was a gift. Being down here, in his Kingdom. Everything that was happening was good for him, not bad. Because he finally felt free.

  “My special man,” his mother said, standing in front of him, a smile across her pretty face. “I did this for you. All of this.”

  He nodded. She was more beautiful than he remembered. His last memories of her were vague at best. Fragments of memories fading into nothing in his head. Yet, here she was. In his world. Making things better for him.

  She held out her hand, and he took it gladly, following her as they moved through the corridors toward the ballroom. Where it had all started.

  His dreams of the ballroom were what had inspired him to create The Kingdom. If only he’d known how beautiful it would become.

  As they moved, he noticed the walls change. But even they were lovely to his eyes. He saw no death and horror. He saw freedom and smiles—hands reaching out to touch the man who had made it all possible.

  He stood tall then, for he knew that he had saved these people. Saved them from their dreadful, meaningless existence. They had become a part of his vision and they were finally happy. Their moans of pleasure were a testament to that.

  They came upon the doors to the ballroom and his mother turned to him. She took his face in her gentle, soft hands, leaning in close. He could smell the shampoo in her hair as she put her lips to his and kissed him.

  His eyes closed as he lost himself in the ecstasy of the moment. Her tongue snaked through his lips, forcing his mouth open. It was in his mouth, moving deeper. But it did not stop.

  It kept going, worming its way down his throat. He gagged, struggling to breathe, as it went down his windpipe, forcing its way deeper and deeper. Soon it was in his lungs, filling them, expanding them.

  Blood poured out of his nose as his body started to spasm. The blood soon gave way to an inky-black substance. It came out of his ears and forced his eyes out of their sockets until there were hanging by their stems, meaning that he never saw the creature kissing him for what it was.

  Those trapped in the walls still moaned for help, their bizarre, misshapen hands reaching out, but getting nothing but air, as something resembling tears streamed from their eyes.

  And yet, as all of this happened, and the empty husk once known as Thompson was filled with the creature, his brain told his body that he was in intense ecstasy, and the smile never once left his face.

  30

  “Eugene… What the fuc
k?” was all Calder could say.

  Everyone stood frozen, staring at the mess in front of them. Dark droplets of blood still dripped to the floor steadily, hitting it with an impossibly loud splash in the silence of the casino.

  “That’s not your brother, Jones!” Anna shouted.

  She vaulted over the bar and ran to him, grabbing him by the arm. Calder couldn’t decide what to do, his mind refusing to make sense of what was before him. Billy stood motionless. Ekkow had his weapon aimed at the thing’s head.

  Jones just stared, his weapon hanging at a 45-degree angle, unsure whether to raise or lower it.

  “Ekkow!” the thing said with a smile. “I missed you, big man! What? You didn’t think I forgot about you, did ya?”

  The thing laughed. Anna was shaking Jones now, desperately trying to get him to listen.

  “This isn’t your brother! It’s something else, can’t you see it? It’s an illusion.”

  “Come on, guys, are you gonna listen to this little dyke cunt? It’s me. I mean, I know I’m a little the worse for wear,” he said, reaching into his chest cavity experimentally, “but it’s still me. Well, mostly anyway.”

  Jones and Calder lowered their weapons, transfixed by the thing they were seeing. Their minds were rebelling, trying desperately to make sense of what was in front of them. Anna waved her hand in front of Jones’ face and got no response.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” she screamed, wrenching the shotgun from the man’s limp grip. “Hey, arsehole, shut the fuck up!”

  And with that she fired. She didn’t account for the kickback and was knocked backward. But she was close enough that it didn’t matter. Eugene’s arm was blown clean off in an impressive spray of blackish, pulpy gore.

  The Eugene thing looked at his mutilated arm. It squirmed and writhed on the floor behind him.

  “Huh. Didn’t expect that. Well, it looks like I’ll just have to do this the old fashioned way.”

  As he spoke, his voice morphed from Eugene’s into something else. Something hollow and empty, and yet threatening. An alien sound that didn’t come from vocal cords. The flesh that covered the thing started to peel off, slopping to the floor and landing with a horrible, wet slapping sound. As it fell, it became clear that it wasn’t all the same colour, and was instead an amalgamation of different skin tones horribly stitched into one.

  What was underneath was even more horrifying. Undulating black, glistening skin, through which weird, alien organs could be seen pulsating. The shape of the thing was indescribable, as it seemed to be one shape and many all at once.

  A horrible groaning sound was coming from it, rising in pitch until it became an ear-splitting screech that caused those present to put their hands over their ears.

  Calder collapsed to his knees, a yell of pain escaping his lips as the creature continued to assault his senses. Jones struggled to get to Anna, stumbling as he went. Blood started to trickle from his ears.

  Ekkow still stood, a grimace of intense pain on his face. He was pulling the trigger of his weapon, the rounds going wide as his aim wavered erratically. Eventually, he ran out of bullets and stumbled backward, falling against the bar.

  The pain from the impact of the bar shook some sense into him and he grabbed a Molotov, fishing a lighter from his pocket. As his eyes and ears leaked blood, he managed to light it with shaking hands and toss it with all his might.

  The bottle fell just short. It shattered on impact, throwing flaming liquid onto the creature. Its scream changed tones as it reacted to the fire, and suddenly the onslaught to everyone’s senses stopped.

  “Move!” Ekkow screamed at the top of his voice.

  Calder snapped to his senses and struggled to his feet. Jones grabbed Anna’s hand and hoisted her up, taking the shotgun from her as he did so.

  “Run!” he shouted, cocking a fresh shell into the chamber and advancing toward the screaming creature.

  “No!” Anna screamed as Jones fired, her pleas lost in the booming report of the weapon.

  Calder grabbed her, pulling her with him toward the exit. Ekkow and Billy were already heading there, each carrying as many Molotovs as they could.

  They burst through the doors, Calder pushing Anna ahead of him and making to go back for Jones. Ekkow grabbed him before he could do so.

  “Bruv, we need to move now!”

  “I need to go back and get him.”

  Ekkow slammed the doors shut. “Just move, you stupid bastard!”

  Jones racked another shell into the weapon and fired. He continued to do so until he heard the hollow click of a dry chamber.

  “How the fuck did you get my brother’s image?” he screamed, tears and snot running down his face. “Tell me, you fucking son of a bitch!”

  Suddenly, an appendage whipped toward Jones and into his chest. He let out a gasp, as a white-hot stab of pain ripped through his body. The thing withdrew, agonisingly slowly, making a disgusting wet sucking sound as it did so, bringing something up in front of his face. His own bleeding heart was held up to his dying eyes.

  “I told you I’d get your heart, bro,” the thing said, letting out a burst of inhuman laughter as Jones fell to the floor, twitching.

  31

  “Jesus,” Billy said, panting, sweat pouring off his forehead.

  Calder has no idea where they were. Their mad dash had led them into a room where pulsating, translucent, black things snaked their way into and out of the walls. At various points were people—or rather what was left of them—their dead hands clutching in vain at empty air.

  “Today is a really bad fucking day,” Ekkow said, clutching at his arm. The bandages had soaked through with blood.

  A chorus of hideous, low moans echoed through the room, as the people in the walls called to the newcomers. Calder moved to get a closer look, but Anna pulled him back.

  “We need to stay away from them,” she said, tears in her eyes. “I think if we get too close, we could end up like them.”

  Calder nodded, cursing himself for being so stupid. “Okay. You heard the lady—stay away from the walls. We need to find Priya and get the fuck out of here.”

  There was something else wrong with the room they were in, besides the obvious. Something was nagging at him, jumping up and down in his peripheral vision, trying to get him to pay attention, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

  They moved forward slowly, trying not to look at the people fused into the walls, trying to block out their whispered cries, but failing on both counts. Their feet splashed as they walked, the water soaking into the hems of their trousers.

  That’s when Calder realised what was wrong.

  “We’re standing—” he started.

  “—in water,” Anna finished.

  “Fuck’s sake, man,” Billy said. “These tentacles things must have cracked the structure somehow.”

  He bent and checked the depth of the water.

  “How long do we have before the whole place is flooded?” Ekkow asked.

  “No way to tell. But I’m guessing we’re on the fucking clock here. Seriously, fuck this job and fuck Thompson.”

  “So we hurry up then,” Anna said firmly.

  Calder glanced at her, a smile on his face. “Again, the lady is right. Nothing we can do. We keep moving.”

  “But where? We have no idea where the woman is!” Billy said.

  “I saw some smashed glass near the bar earlier,” Ekkow said. “Almost cut my hand open on the stuff when I stood. Someone was there before us. And stands to reason, if she was with Thompson, they’d make their way to the ballroom and then to the submarine bay.”

  “I guess we have a plan then. Anna, Billy, stay in front of me. Ekkow, take point. Move fast, but keep your eyes peeled. We don’t know what else we’re going to run into.”

  As they moved through the twisted, misshapen halls, things seemed to get worse. The ceiling dripped a weird, viscous substance that soaked into the floor, there seemed to be more tentacles than actu
al wall, and more people were fused into the stuff, although they were getting progressively more spread out, as if someone had tried to make too little wallpaper stretch onto too much wall.

  The group tried their best to breathe through their noses, as the alien stench that was something of a combination of brine, rot, blood, and other even less savoury smells threatened to suffocate them. Even now and then, Anna would glance around, praying that she didn’t see Priya’s face in one of the walls.

  “I have a bad feeling, bruv,” Ekkow said, stopping.

  “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Anna asked.

  Calder nodded, glancing back over his shoulder. “I doubt she’d come this way if it’s this bad.”

  “But didn’t you notice?” Anna said. “Whatever this stuff is, it has blocked off all the side corridors.”

  “We’re being funnelled to the ballroom.”

  “What are you thinking, bruv?”

  Calder stared at the thing in the wall. “I’m thinking that it’s possible that whatever this stuff is, it belongs to one entity. Think about it. All the things that have been happening, Eugene, the walls, the hallucinations, it’s all had some kind of purpose behind it. Some kind of intelligence. Even the corridors.”

  “So whatever it is, it’s in the ballroom?” Anna breathed. “So, we go back? Find another way?”

  “Can’t,” Calder said simply. “We’re blocked off behind us too. I noticed the tentacle things moving earlier. We have one way forward.”

  “Can’t we burn ourselves an exit?” Ekkow asked.

  “Too risky. We only have four Molotovs. And I think we’re going to need it for whatever is behind this.”

  “This is insane, man,” Billy said. “Fucking black sludge with a brain? Do you fucking hear yourselves? This isn’t a movie.”

  “I didn’t say it had a brain. I said it was intelligent. The point is moot anyway. We only have one choice. Even if we could burn ourselves one exit, I think the thing will just block off another path.”

  “We keep going then,” Anna said. “And just pray Priya is there.”