Evil Among Us

by J. K. Accinni

  The crowd quietened down as they made their way through the unfamiliar passageways, the constant specter of membrane-enshrouded walls with streaks of lightning reminding them of potential danger even as they forged ahead in search of truth.

  Netty worked at her fingers, picking her skin with random nervousness as she wracked her mind about what this could possibly mean as they trekked deeper and deeper into the cavern. How could Baby, of all of them, play any part in something so diabolical? she wondered. She glanced constantly at Wil, relishing his quiet, confident air as they made their plodding way, relentless and tiring.

  Peter slowed to a stop as they came to an unobtrusive opening in a corridor wall. Netty estimated they were at least two miles from her kitchen. The air felt warmer here, but the small cave in front of them remained shrouded in dimness, making it difficult to see inside. A rancid odor drifted from the cave, redolent of spoiled meat and the metallic scent of blood. Netty bravely squinted into the unknown cave unable to discern a thing. She faced Peter.

  “If this is it, where is Baby?” The sudden sound of her anxious voice echoed unnaturally off the walls of the small cave, as if it were empty. To dispel that notion, an unexpected whimper emanated from the cave, followed by a groan as if the very dead had been awakened by the sound of her voice.

  Everyone froze, panic in the eyes of most of the survivors.

  Cobby spoke up. “There’s something in there. It must be hurt. Clyde, did you bring it?”

  Netty started as Clyde unwrapped the sledgehammer that had hung on her wall to remind them of what King and Queenie had been through at the hands of the criminally evil dogfighters who had brutally crushed their skulls. When did he remove that?

  As if he had read her thoughts, Clyde remarked, “We needed something for protection. This was the only thing handy.”

  Johno turned to Netty and Wil, his voice shaded in whispers as another moaning whimper drifted out to them. “Ms. Netty, I think if you know anything about this, now is the time. It will be hard enough to face what may be waiting for us.”

  Netty spread her arms wide as they looked from her to Wil. “I assure you, gentlemen, we know nothing of this. I am as curious as you are. Please . . . proceed carefully. And Baby. Keep your eyes open for my Baby . . . I beg you. He is fragile and needs to be looked after.” She clutched her smock obsessively. “I just do not understand . . .”

  Wil circled her shoulders with his arm, puzzlement in his eyes, their golden hue dimming. “Shhh, it will be okay, Netty. Baby will turn up. Let us permit the good men to investigate and we will handle whatever it is.”

  She smiled as his words brightened her. “Yes, you are correct. I will just wait out here. Call if you need me. Echo . . . would you like to stay here with me?”

  Scotty stepped up to transfer his golden creature to Netty, Echo remaining completely silent. Netty gave the hushed minion a quick glance as she nestled her comfortably on her hip, her wings rustling nervously as she snaked her tail around them both for comfort. She stepped back to observe the gathering of men as they took a valiant collective breath and moved forward on the heels of another whimper.

  Netty held her breath, the silence of the men ominous. A slow minute passed as she listened. Suddenly she heard something. She craned her neck, the better to hear. Netty could tell they had found something, but their exclamations were indistinct. A new sound assailed her. What? She could recognize the sound of retching anywhere. She started to pace, Echo squirming out of her hands to wobble into the cave after the men.

  “Echo . . . stop!”

  *

  Peter crept carefully into the cave, the temperature rising as the heat from their adrenaline fueled bodies mixed with that of the bloody sides of beef that had once been men. He cringed as he grasped the fact that amazingly, the men were still alive. They hung suspended from the walls, their arms engulfed in the protruding undulating mass, essentially acting as a manacle. Beneath the men lay prodigious hills of dried and fresh blood and feces collecting on the flat rock floor.

  “Holy Mother of God . . . .” Gasps from Peter’s fellow survivors were augmented with tremors of pity and horror. The stench was overpowering. Trailing his eyes over the men, he kept his hand to his nose. He could clearly see that they were being kept alive by the familiar tendrils that ran from the walls directly to the veins of the men who appeared to have been flayed almost to death, leaving only their macabre faces untouched. A large tubular swath of membrane drove directly into their stomachs, providing what appeared to be nutrition.

  Cobby and Wil crept closer, peering through the dimness. Wil’s tail began a steady swatting in the air, his fist pounding into his thigh as he stared uncomprehendingly at the man in the middle.

  “Do you know these men, Wil?”

  Wil continued to stare, ignoring Peter’s question as Netty’s voice carried to the front of the little cave.

  “Echo . . . stop.”

  Before Peter realized it, Netty stood next to Wil. His arms held her back as she stood in disbelief to survey the hapless men. The moment was frozen in Peter’s mind as he heard Netty gasp then shake her head, hair cascading as she bent at the waist as if in pain. She looked around, a woman crazed.

  “Baby . . . uggg . . . where is my Baby?” Tears fell from her eyes as her groans matched that of the man in the middle. Just as suddenly, she vomited. An unexpected sound emanated from the sufferer in the middle. Peter strained to hear. A whisper. Netty froze as Peter crept closer to hear.

  “Whore.”

  Did I hear that correctly?

  Netty snapped out of her malaise, whirling around frantically.

  “Baby . . . where is Baby? He must be here. We must find him. Wil . . . where is my Baby?” Her voice rose to a scream and Wil never took his golden eyes off the man in the middle.

  Peter rushed to calm a hysterical Netty, while the other survivors remained rooted in place, overwhelmed by the tableau, their minds unable to process.

  “Hey, can I have some help here?” Scotty blinked as if waking from a trance to turn to Peter who stood with his arms wrapped around a screaming and crying Netty. “Come on, I need some help here.”

  Finally, Johno and Cobby ran to Peter’s side. Johno lifted Netty in his strong arms and carried her outside the cave to sink to the ground with her in his arms. The other men followed them out of the cave to cluster around Johno and Netty, leaving Wil like a stone statue in front of the hunks of hanging flesh.

  Netty clutched at Johno’s arms, her face turned up to him beseechingly. Clearly not in her right mind, she began to beg. “Johno, where is Baby? Please . . . we must find my Baby.”

  An abrupt sound, like rock scraping on pebbles, begged their attention. Craning their heads toward an overlooked boulder about the size of a chair, they were astonished to discover Baby crouched down, plastered tightly to the rock and curled up in a fetal position.

  “What? Baby.” Netty scrambled out of Johno’s arms to stand unsteadily. Peter watched, keeping everyone back as she approached the shivering creature, her tears now happy ones as a relieved smile split her face. “My precious one. Why are you hiding there?” Netty crouched down, holding her arms out to the creature as he slowly unwound his tail and crept over to Netty’s waiting arms. She held him to her breast, folding her wings to enclose them in an intimate embrace. Peter could hear her crooning and murmuring to the shivering creature as they all waited for an explanation.

  Within moments they were joined by Wil, who gulped deeply of the clearer air before peeling back Netty’s wings to lift Baby from her arms. He held Baby close, muttering to the creature as they swayed together. Peter could hear snippets of reassuring words. “It is okay, Baby. We love you, don’t you know that? That is all right, we understand. You could have told us. No, no . . . you did it for all of us. We are the same way. Retribution is part of the human condition. It makes sense, we got it from you. We are part of you. You are our creators. Yes, yes . . . shhh, maybe we can find a bet
ter way.”

  Netty stood close, nodding as Wil spoke to the creature. A sudden whimper from inside drew everyone’s attention back to the contents of the cave.

  Wil, Netty and Baby turned to face Peter and the rest of the survivors. Netty spoke first, crestfallen and contrite. “Well, Peter. I sincerely owe you an apology. I pray you will accept it.”

  Confronting the rest of the survivors, she took a deep breath, shuddering as she shook away the effects of her momentary hysteria. Smoothing her hair into place, she raised her hands to her face, whisking the last residue of tears away and squaring her shoulders. Then she hung her head silently.

  Peter whispered her name. “Netty? Are you all right?”

  She continued to hang her head. Peter heard her take another deep breath then she raised her face to meet theirs, her eyes brightening, and her chin proud. “I am sure you are wondering who those . . . men . . . are in there. I have not seen them in over one hundred years.” She blinked at the puzzlement on Peter’s face, and then dropped the bomb. “The man in the middle was . . . is . . . my former husband, Robert Doyle.”

  Netty’s voice stopped as she closed her eyes, the strain evident as she visibly gathered strength. “The other two are his lackeys, Eli . . .” she exhaled, “and Sheriff Hudson. They are murderers most vile.”

  Netty reached for Wil, her hand trembling, her voice catching. “They are . . . they are the evil that took our lives out of greed for money.”

  A hush fell over the dazed crowd as Peter realized they were in the midst of an account of a very personal human tragedy.

  Netty carefully sank to the hard rock floor, gathering her wings close, her tail limp and quiet. “Wil, may I please have Baby?” Wil passed the little creature over to her. She smiled gently at the creature, stroking and comforting him. With one more embrace, Baby settled down to curl up in her lap, Wil and the survivors settling down on the ground to listen to her explanation.

  As Netty haltingly related the horror of her life with Robert Doyle, Peter watched the emotion pour like blood from a wound. Periodically, Baby reached up to place his fingers on her face. Netty would stop to pause as they exchanged communication, prompting a smile or an embrace from Netty. Wil sat quietly, his face tight, eyes dim.

  Netty’s life sounded like something from a horror movie: ripped from the comfort of a sheltered home to be abused unmercifully by a rapacious fiend, then murdered for her inherited farmland. After Netty stopped speaking, Wil picked up the story, eulogizing the fruits of their hard work on their farm and the love they had shared as a family, until he’d been framed and thrown in jail, where he’d been murdered by an assassin engaged by Robert Doyle. His voice drowned in bitterness, with the exception of his tender memories of his horse, Maggie. Peter was appalled by the description of Maggie’s wanton death by the loathsome monsters.

  As the story came to an end, Peter’s analytical attorney brain begged a few questions. “But Netty, if you don’t mind, can you please explain to us exactly how you came to be here?”

  Netty nodded, anticipating the question. “Upon our burial, the Womb sent its manifestation to recover our bodies. You have seen the power of the beast. We call it the Kreyven. It cannot do anything other than fulfill the dictates of the Womb. It can travel anywhere underground and retrieve anything the Womb desires. It can travel under the floor of any body of water, even oceans. The Kreyven can excavate tiny tunnels or entire cities if the Womb desires.”

  Netty smiled tightly. “How do you think we were able to supply this place? And the library? The Kreyven simply created a wide tunnel under the building in Washington that engulfed it. As Washington quaked about the bombs, who was left to care about the shambles of The Library of Congress and the missing books? That is why we have been forced to spend so much time cleaning and reorganizing. The room in the back, where Daisy studies, is what was left of the tunnel the Kreyven used to bring material and books here. The same goes for everything you have found in the supply room. It was a simple matter to retrieve our bodies the same way. The extraction of our DNA and our memories were child’s play to the minions that regrew us.”

  Peter nodded slowly, unfazed by the science behind the obvious cloning. From behind him, he overheard more muttering. A distant sob from the cave set the rest of the men off; Johno’s keepers were the most vocal and the most frightened, fearing what they failed to understand.

  Cobby sounded a question. “But what of the men in there? We can’t just let them hang there like that. Even murderers are treated better than that. We are a country of laws. You just can’t take matters into your own hands like that.”

  Wil fixed Cobby with his withering scrutiny. “Where is your country of laws now? I thought you understood: The law is what the Womb wants it to be. The conscience of the Womb dictates the level of reasonableness and we have never had any reason to test how far that may go.”

  Peter could hear the doubt in Cobby’s voice. “But you are a man. How could you condone such monstrous treatment?”

  Wil fixed the yacht captain with his stare, lips compressed in anger. “Yes, I condone this. This is what they deserve. Did you not hear the psychotic deeds they have done to us? They stole our lives.” Wil slammed his hand on the stone floor in anger, his eyes flashing and his tail high in the air, snapping as if ready to flagellate them on his command.

  Peter raised his hands in a supplicating gesture. “It’s all good, Wil . . . relax. Cobby didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “The hell I didn’t.”

  Peter shot him a silencing look and continued. “So, you’re saying you knew about this? Did you set this up?”

  “Hahahaha.” Startled by Wil’s laughter, Peter looked to Netty. Baby sat up and tried to right himself, slipping off Netty’s lap to scurry back to the rock to cower.

  “Please . . . can we please just have some quiet? No, Peter . . . we did not . . . plan this. Nor did we know of it until . . . today.” Netty sounded exhausted, her words slowing.

  “Well, then?” he asked.

  Her voice was hesitant and low but the survivors heard her all the same. “It was . . . Baby.”

  Peter’s astonishment mirrored that of the entire group.

  “Well, the little fucker.” A voice from the back.

  Wil went wild. “No. Don’t you even presume to malign Baby. How dare you? If it weren’t for Baby, your bones would be nothing but crumbled ash and don’t you forget it.”

  “Well, what are we going to do with the men in there? We cannot leave them like that.” Johno’s reasoned tones were like cream to a starving cat. Wil sobered quickly as they all watched Netty coax Baby out from under the boulder, Echo standing silently by. After a moment of communication, the duo approached the entrance to the cave. Baby turned, his eyes flashing, his demeanor animated unlike anything Peter had ever seen. The golden creature suddenly looked menacing. He stood as tall as his small body would allow, tugging on Netty’s hand.

  Wil slipped to their side as Netty spoke in low emotional tones. “He did this for us, Wil, for us. Baby was so filled with hate and anguish over what happened to us that he orchestrated this with the cooperation of the Kreyven.” Her eyes glittered with love and pride for the devoted creature. “They have been here for at least fifty years.” She looked up wondrously. “They must be quite mad by now.”

  Peter heard gasps from the crowd as they reacted to Netty’s revelation.

  “What . . . your God was not an avenging god? Remember of whom we speak. They are one and the same,” she added with raging indignation. Netty placed her hand in Wil’s and turned back to the men. “It is time. They will be given one last chance . . . if there is anything left in their black souls.” Turning back to the cave, the tiny family entered and stood in front of the meat hanging from the walls.

  The survivors crept behind, not anxious to confront the beastly odors, but curious none the less. Peter covered his mouth with his sleeve as he watched Netty, with Baby in her arms, approach the f
irst man. The man rustled, sensing something different. His eyelids actually opened, squinty and bloody under his hairless pate. Peter could hear the fractured gurgling deep in the man’s throat. Netty stood, unmoving.

  “Eli.” The man did not respond. “Eli.” Netty’s voice rose, her anger showing. Still no response; the gurgling diminished. Netty stooped to Baby, the creature nodding his head.

  From the cave walls a tendril extended to each side of the men, embedding themselves in the open flesh of their throats. It took a few minutes, but Eli’s tendrils then receded back into the wall.

  “Eli.” Netty’s call was followed by the gurgling and then a swallow.

  “NNNNNN.”

  “Eli.”

  “Nnnnneey?” The man was incomprehensible.

  Peter glanced at the other two men and saw the tendrils had visited them as well; viscous evidence protruding from the walls to disappear into the men’s necks. Feeling dizzy, Peter reached out to steady himself with Clyde’s arm. That was all it took to send Clyde crashing down to the floor in a profound faint.

  “Neeetty?”

  “Yes, Eli, it is me.”

  “Get me . . . me oooutta here.”

  “I would like to ask you a question, Eli.”

  “Outa here.” Eli’s head rolled forward, the stench from his mouth forcing Peter to step back. Retching sounds filled the little cave again.

  “Eli.” Netty’s voice exuded ice, her face like marble

  “Out nowwww, bitccccch.” Slobber from Eli’s mouth dripped down, spattering Netty’s arm and still she didn’t move.