S79 The Horror in the Swamp

by Brett Schumacher

  He kicked the door, threw his weight into it using his shoulder, and pushed until sweat poured from him, slicking his upper body. He sat heavily with his bare back against the warmth of the door. The heat against his back was uncomfortable but it was a welcome discomfort. He put his hand in the light falling through the small opening to appraise the damage he’d done to it.

  A thin black shadow lay across his scraped knuckles and he moved his hand up angrily to get away from it. “What the fuck?” He turned to see what was causing the shadow, thinking it might be the obstacle.

  He saw the end of a bar. He pushed the door gently, and the chain rattled softly against the metal, but the bar was what had stopped the door, not the chain. He bounced the door against it, using his weight. The bar didn’t budge. Standing, he pressed his eye close to the crack and looked for more bars that he might not have seen. There was only one more and it was across the top of the door.

  The workers had attached bars to the cinderblock walls across the door. He knew they had been anchored in with screws he could never break loose, but that didn’t stop him from trying. Thinking back to the way he had taken down part of a block wall to get this far, he repetitively banged the door against the bars, faster and harder with each shove. He hoped the repetition and steady abuse would break the screws loose from the blocks.

  After several minutes, exhaustion and the throbbing in his head, arm and hip forced him to stop. His anger boiled over into fury as he stood catching his breath. He picked up the axe, meaning only to walk away and look into the few rooms in the darkness behind him, but instead, he found himself delivering a full-on attack on the door.

  He slammed the axe against the flat surface, the metal plate’s corner denting it deeply. Then he pummeled the push-bar until it hung, broken and flopping toward the hinges. His final blows were directed at the offending line of sunlight falling through the crack.

  When his screams of outrage were spent, he simply picked up the lantern and headed for the first room.

  The noise had not drawn the creature to him, and Robert thought it might still be unconscious. He went into the third room where a window allowed a fair amount of dim light to bathe the interior.

  Of course, the window had been barred from the outside like all the rest. He didn’t bother letting his hopes rise too far upon seeing the light. The sun was on the other side of the hallway, but the ambient light of the day was enough to see the contents of the large room.

  It had been a storage room, and apparently all the goods for the delivery intake room and the lobby had been stored there at one time. Now, as he stood staring hopelessly in, most of the goods had been reduced to a large mound of rubbish that covered the entire floor and was a foot deep at its thinnest point, three at its thickest. It looked like a mountain range in miniature.

  Metal shelves stood against the back wall near the window. There were more shelves, but they had fallen into the rubble, their contents spilled and mixed in with the trash there. He looked toward the last two rooms and back into the current one. Exasperated with the lack of finding anything useful, he let his gaze go to the shelves again. A familiar shape on the top shelf caught his attention.

  He set his lantern down and took a tentative step onto the edge of the trash mound. It was soft and gave under his foot as he put more weight down. It only sank a few inches under his total weight, and he took another step, testing the solidity. Again, it dipped under his weight but gave no sign of falling through. It was a solid heap of trash so far.

  Reaching the shelf, he raised cautiously onto his toes. The lamp oil was still out of reach by nearly a foot. The only solid thing in the room was the shelf, and the shelves were rusted badly. He couldn’t climb it, but he could use the axe to pull the fuel down.

  He raised his left hand to catch the falling jug and had to step back to keep it from hitting him in the face. His foot caught in the trash and he tumbled to his back. The landing was somewhat cushioned by the aged litter. The jug of fuel landed heavily on his right knee.

  He remained on his back for a minute, content to lie there with his arm over his eyes, resting his muscles. Unwilling to risk dozing off again, he finally grunted and uncovered his eyes. Directly above him, an air vent grating had come loose and hung awkwardly to the side, revealing a black square.

  Blinking stupidly up at the hole, he wondered what it was exactly. Another letdown? Another near miss? More torturous closeness to his freedom?

  Grunting with effort, he sat upright and grabbed the lamp oil. “Too good to be true. Mama always said if something seems too good to be true, it is.” He refused to look up again as he made his way to the doorway to refill the tank of the lantern.

  Not bothering to replace the lid on the jug, he tossed it into the pile of trash. One more piece of waste wouldn’t hurt that room anyway. He walked back toward the brightly lit intake room. He thought maybe it had been a sort of shipping and receiving building, but he bet more deliveries came in than went out, considering what they were up to in the facility.

  As he headed down the center of the building, the lower levels on his mind, he stepped around one of the ladders and paused. Looking down at it, the thought played through his mind to check the uncovered air vent. The little voice in the back of his mind nagged at his curiosity. Just check it. You need to make sure. It would be a shame if that was a way out and you ignored it because you’re all up in your feelings, being depressed…being a pussy.

  The voice belonged to his father and was even tinged with his sarcastic, demeaning tone. Shaking his head, he continued, resolving himself to the fact that he would have to go back past the room where the creature had been unconscious, and then even farther, entering the subterranean landscape of pure darkness again to search for another exit.

  The thought sapped all his energy and he hung his head. “I can’t. I cannot go down there again.” He turned back to look up at the windows with their bars. The open vent wouldn’t leave his mind. “Goddammit!” He kicked at a wrench lying on the floor, and sent it skittering all the way to a bay door.

  His outburst silenced the crickets and frogs, and he stormed back to the ladder he had sidestepped. Grabbing a rung, he dragged the extension ladder noisily into the hallway, glaring at the back door with its frame of daylight peeking in at him. He hated that door almost as much as he hated the men who had beat and robbed him.

  Not testing the solidity of the trash pile this time, he continued to drag the ladder up and over the mounds until he stood beneath the hole in the ceiling.

  “You better not be fucking with me. I’m tired of being jerked around and teased with the prospect of getting out of this hellhole only to find out some fucker actually did his job and sealed all the exits.” He placed the lantern on the highest shelf he could reach and then jammed the feet of the ladder into the trash, shimmying it to get it as level as possible. Extending the fly end, he wedged it into the ninety-degree angle where wall met ceiling.

  The angle of the ladder forced him to lean precariously to the right to get hold of the dangling grate. He snagged it and pulled it toward him. It was heavier than he had anticipated, and when it broke free, the falling weight pulled him violently backwards. The ladder shifted dangerously to the right. He let go of the grate and it fell to the trash below.

  Robert climbed a step higher and eased his head into the vent. The space was large enough to accommodate him. The shaft ran both directions. Enough light seeped into the shaft that he didn’t think he would need the lantern, but if he was going to do this, he wanted to do it right; be prepared for anything.

  He popped his head back out of the vent and eyed the lantern. Stupid, clunky lantern, he thought. A flashlight would have made life a hell of a lot easier.

  The lantern would be necessary if he didn’t find an exit in the shaft. If he was forced to drop into another room, in another part of the building, there was a very good c
hance it would be dark. Sighing, he placed the lantern in the vent and pushed it in the direction he was going to check first.

  He had absolutely no experience crawling through a ventilation system and therefore had no clue what to expect or what to look for. The space was large enough that he had room to crawl on all fours, but he had to push the axe and the lantern ahead of himself.

  He had seen characters in movies enter or exit buildings through the ventilation ductwork. What he had not seen in those scenarios was how hot the system was, and how loud any movement really was. He moved carefully and lightly as possible but inside the ductwork, every movement sounded like thunder.

  The sheet metal’s edges were sharp as blades. Scraping his knee across one of the slightly raised edges, he came away with a hole in his pants and a burning cut. It made him much more aware of how he moved. The ductwork narrowed ahead. Just after the narrowing, the passage was T-shaped. He could go left or right, but not straight.

  He looked in both directions and determined to go left. A faint bit of light shone very far down that way, and it seemed to be coming from above. As he made the turn, carefully maneuvering over the raw metal edges to avoid a worse cut, he heard movement behind him. He stopped moving, and the sounds also stopped.

  Just my own movements echoing, he thought. Don’t get squirrely in the head now, you’re too close to being free.

  He started moving again; the noises returned, and his heart skipped. He stopped but the echoing thuds continued. His upper body was already around the ninety-degree turn. Straining, he craned his neck and used his elbow for leverage to look around the corner, where his legs were.

  He didn’t need bright light to see what was back there, closing in on his legs. The faint, coalescing lights announced it loud and clear that the creature had awakened and tracked him down.

  Panicked, he shoved the axe and lantern ahead and scrambled toward the light ahead. His breathing was ragged and fast. The oxygen seemed to be disappearing from the air. Holding his breath for a moment, he forced himself to concentrate on moving instead of panicking. The last thing he needed was to pass out from hyperventilation.

  As he crawled, he prayed—something he had never been prone to doing. Robert Tolliver didn’t really believe there was a God. Not like they had tried to teach him in church, anyway. His super-Catholic mother would have rolled in her grave if she had known how he felt.

  He didn’t know if he was doing it right or not, but he talked to God, pleaded with him to let him escape the abomination stalking him. As the beast gained on him and started chittering and screaming, Robert started threatening God. If that would help his plight or not, he did not know, and did not care.

  You weren’t there to protect me from my father when I was growing up, if you’re real, you better be working some of your magic now or Julie and Lilli are going to be stuck without a husband and father, he feverishly threw anything he could think of into the mix, like an Irish stew of pleas and threats all mingling together. That light ahead better be a way out, or you’ve failed another child and mother. If that’s how you protect and nurture your own, the whole world is fucked. Amen.

  The creature grabbed his left foot and yanked. Robert gasped and landed on his stomach. He kicked back with his left foot and the monster lost its grip on it. Terror propelled him forward faster than he had thought was possible. There wasn’t enough room to abandon the lantern, or to swing the axe back at the creature’s face. Forward was the only possibility of escape.

  Being much larger, the thing had trouble moving through the passage as it narrowed yet again. Robert laughed, and the sound was like madness to his ears. Maybe he had gone a bit mad. He suspected any sane man in such a situation would end up a bit lopsided in the brain.

  Still putting distance between them, he focused on the light. It grew brighter as he neared it. Spilling from above, it illuminated the rungs of a ladder on the wall. Making it to the shaft of light, he looked up. The passage had widened enough to allow more movement and he could stand. The ductwork was less than stable at that point, as if a support might have been missing.

  Grabbing a rung, he hauled himself upright. The creature let out a terrible, furious scream that deafened Robert. A plan formed in his mind. He didn’t have to think and contrive; it just landed there fully formed and ready to execute.

  Bending, he reached for the lantern at his feet and simultaneously looked back at the creature struggling toward him on his other side. Climbing seven rungs toward a rust-eaten duct cover, he used the flat plate on the axe to test it. The hinges squalled and the outside hasp caught.

  For one awful moment, he was certain the hatch would be as much of a hope-killer as the exit door had been. He stepped to the next rung, hearing the terrible squelching of the creature’s progress. He jammed the axe upward again and again, using his fear and anger to lend more strength to each blow.

  The creature screamed from the bottom of the ladder. It had reached him at last. He hit the hatch one more time, giving it all he had, and the hasp broke. The hatch flew up and then slammed back down.

  Robert was already climbing the last few rungs. He shoved the hatch up and tossed the lantern onto the roof.

  The creature latched onto his left foot again, and when it yanked downward, his right foot slipped. His chin connected with the top rung of the ladder. The axe caught above the opening and stopped his fall. His hand through the loop suspended his weight plus the force of the creature’s pull.

  Yelling in pain, he kicked down with his right foot and connected with the monster’s upturned, snarling face. The blow was satisfying as he felt the thing’s teeth break under his sole. He kicked again, the movement tearing at his wrist and shoulder. The creature’s squawk of pain was rewarding. It lost its grip and fought to stay on the ladder.

  Robert didn’t need an invitation to get up and out of there. He threw himself over the edge of the opening and tumbled roughly to the flat roof. The monster’s head appeared at the opening. Robert stood, drew the axe high above his head, aimed the blade at the emerging head, and brought it down as hard as he could. The blade sank into one of the skulls.

  The creature howled and thrashed. The ferocity took Robert off his feet, but he held tight to the weapon. The tip of the blade snapped off and he stumbled back. Catching his balance, he was horrified to see the monster still advancing. It shook its head violently and its scream was mixed with that strange insectile buzzing.

  He knew he only had a heartbeat of time to execute the plan he’d had before climbing out. He lunged forward, grabbed the lantern, and slammed it over the edge of the opening, ducking just in time to keep the monster from taking off his head with its claws.

  The hood of the lantern broke off, leaving the support bars and jagged glass sticking up all around. The monster pushed farther out of the hole. Robert shoved the lantern under its other chin and pushed upward. Dark maroon blood covered both his hands and the monster’s scream died. The fuel leaked out of the tank, coursing over the alien torso. Its eyes flew wide, and it flailed at the object lodged in its throat.

  Taking a small step back, Robert raised the flat end of the axe and drove the lantern’s broken bits into the creature’s flesh. Quick as a snake’s strike, he had the Zippo out of his pocket, flipped the lid back, and flicked the wheel. Thank God for Zippos, he thought, and then tossed the lighter at the creature. It hit a glancing blow across the creature’s chest, and the flame caught the lamp oil, igniting it instantly.

  The scream turned high-pitched and sounded almost fake. His and the creature’s gazes locked briefly. Then, the hellish abomination fell into the shaft.

  Without thinking, Robert stepped forward and watched its descent. The ductwork parted and the creature fell into a dark room. The flames had engulfed it and burned green and yellow as it consumed flesh. As the fire brightened and seemed to spread, Robert could see that the monster had landed in a
room filled with debris—papers, books, old wooden tables and chairs. The flame turned to a blaze, and Robert watched, unable to stop the grin spreading on his face.

  A shelf fell over and whatever had been on it acted as an accelerant. There was a loud whooshing noise as the flame shot toward the ceiling. The immense heat blasted up into Robert’s face and he backed away.

  Turning his face to the sky, he spread his arms and laughed. “I did it! I killed the monster.” He straightened and adjusted his grip on the axe. Looking toward the forest in what he assumed was the direction of the gas station, he pointed the axe and yelled, “I’m coming for you next, motherfuckers. And I’m bringing you a little surprise.”

  Chapter 11

  Vines

  Robert walked to the edge of the roof and peered over. The facility had been surrounded by eight-foot high chain link fencing. The top had three strands of barbed wire, he supposed for added security, though he could think of no reason anyone would climb the fence when a pair of wire cutters would get them through at ground level.

  The large parking area at the front had been overtaken by nature and only a few patches of pavement showed. Although the land had been cleared in a wide perimeter on three sides, the newer growth was thick and lush; it would not make travel easy. The fourth side was secured by the long stretch of swamp.

  The sun had westered, and Robert guessed the time was late afternoon, possibly early evening. He couldn’t orient himself from so high above everything. To find the room the men had tossed him in, he would have to find a way down and circle the building. That would give him a place to start. He knew there was a trail leading from that room that ran into the woods.

  All the ladders that would have led from the ground to the roof had been sawed off near the top. Only three rungs descended from each one. Even if he hung from the last one, the ground was still too far down for a drop. He couldn’t afford a broken leg out in the middle of nowhere.