by Ray Garton
He put the gun in his pocket and reached for the top of the opening. It was too high; he couldn't reach it. He spun around, taking the light from his mouth and holding it before him, and eyed the crates against the opposite wall.
Something heavy slithered behind them.
Davey took a few tentative steps toward the crates. Through a space between two of them, he saw a face layered with shiny scales. He put the light in his mouth again and reached for his gun as the face slid toward him.
Its eyes blinked with vague curiosity. It didn't seem to want to hurt him.
You're like us.
Davey unwrapped his sweaty fingers from the handle of the gun in his pocket and cautiously reached for one of the boxes.
It might not like having its shelter disturbed, he thought, and the voice that murmured the warning in his mind was the voice of the same little boy who had sat in the hard rickety pew every week to listen to all those hellfire-and-damnation sermons. For an instant, that little boy was back as if he'd never been gone. It might not just blink and stare, it might come shooting out of that narrow space with its teeth snapping, reaching just about the right height to bury those teeth between my legs and never let go...
He grabbed a corner of one of the wooden boxes and pulled, expecting to be too weak from fear to be able to do more than drag it across the floor. But he lifted it easily...
...stronger than you ever thought possible...
...and pulled it away from the others.
Something long and covered with glistening open sores slid along the wall and disappeared behind another crate.
Davey backed his way to the tank, carrying the crate. He put it down, put a foot on it, testing it, then stepped up on the crate, reaching for the lid of the tank opening. Wrapping his fingers around it, he pushed and twisted until it opened upward on a hinge with a metallic screech. Reaching his right hand across his stomach to his left coat pocket, Davey pulled out the two Drano-filled Ping-Pong balls. Supporting himself against the side of the tank with his left arm, Davey held the two balls over the opening...
They might explode immediately, he thought, they might not explode at all.
...and dropped them in.
The ground fell away beneath him.
Benedek was beginning to swear under his breath. He looked at his watch every thirty seconds or so.
It was 9:24, three minutes short of Davey's time limit. Benedek kneaded the seat cushion beneath him with the fingers of one hand while pressing the fingers of the other hand into the pit of his stomach where a familiar feeling was beginning to knot, the feeling that something was going very wrong.
“Excuse me,” Benedek said to the driver. “Do you have the time?"
“I thought you had it,” she mumbled, looking at her watch. “Either that or a real fascinating wrist. Um, it's about nine-thirty by my watch."
“Jesus,” Benedek breathed, scooting across the seat. “Look, you just stay here, okay? I'm gonna go get my friend. Don't go anywhere, and there's another twenty for you."
“Hey, I'm in no hurry,” she said with a wave of her hand.
Benedek slammed the door of the cab. Maybe the driver's watch was fast, maybe Benedek's was slow, but it didn't matter, enough time had passed for Davey to get into trouble, so Benedek broke into a jog, stumbling to a halt beneath the red-lettered sign.
Taking a deep breath, Benedek pushed through the black curtain and stepped inside Live Girls for the first time.
And the last...
“Please, please let me go,” Casey pleaded, “just let me go, I, I need some air, th-that's all.” Her whole body burned to the tips of her fingers and toes.
“It's not air you...” Shideh stopped, cocked her head. “Someone's here,” she whispered. “When I come back, either you feed or you go down there."
Shideh stood and spun around and the black gown whispered as she hurried out of the room.
Davey fell away from the tank and into a heap among the broken wooden slats that had collapsed beneath him. The penlight dropped from his mouth and rolled away, its beam wobbling over the floor. He pulled his feet away from the broken crate and crawled on his hands and knees toward the light; it was snatched away by a gray, half-fingered hand.
Davey snapped his hand back.
The scaly creature between the boxes held the penlight up to its face, examining it with curious eyes. It worked its mouth with effort, and said in a sharp but quiet whisper, “My son used to have one of these.” It slowly lifted its head to Davey. “May I keep it?” The eyes blinked as it waited for a reply.
Without looking away from the creature, Davey got to his feet and backed away. Holy Jesus, its son!
The penlight shone upward on the creature's face, casting shadows over parts of its flat, scaled features.
With a slack jaw, Davey nodded.
“Thank you,” the creature rasped. Like a turtle pulling into its shell, it slowly retreated to its hiding place.
The room darkened as the penlight was withdrawn, but Davey could still make out his surroundings; his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light.
He turned to the steep, rickety stairs and saw that the others were coming into the room, dragging themselves through the doorway.
Somehow, they no longer seemed as threatening as before, just lost, confused. Davey resisted the urge to pull out his gun, but he kept his distance and moved very slowly toward the stairs, one long step at a time, until his foot bumped something.
There was a woman lying near the foot of the stairs; blood streaked her white hair and was splashed on the remains of her torn blue nightgown and her face.
Davey could not look at her face.
He knew it was Jackie.
Davey looked back at the creatures as he stepped over the body and put his foot on the bottom step, then the next one, never taking his eyes from the shifting audience behind him, until he could lift his right hand and push up on the trapdoor.
It would not open.
He pushed again, harder.
It remained firm.
“God ... dammit,” he muttered as he felt along the edges of the door, looking for some way, any way, to open it. He found nothing.
Something moved quickly over the floor below and Davey turned.
They were all standing aside to let something through, something that was slapping the cement floor and wheezing harshly. It was the legless creature Davey had shot earlier, pulling itself along rapidly, its head swollen and cracked, but in one piece now with worms wriggling in its hair. Heading straight for the staircase, it looked up at Davey and gurgled, “You hurt my head!"
Davey began to beat on the trapdoor with his fist, just as the creature reached the bottom step.
Beyond the curtain, Benedek was struck with the smell.
Like crawling inside a week-old used rubber, he thought.
He took a few steps into the dark, holding a hand out before him, feeling for a wall.
A door creaked open to his right.
He heard someone moving about and turned toward the sound.
Bars. A cage.
A glimpse of white hair.
Relief swept through Benedek and he wanted to scream her name.
“Jackie?” he croaked uncertainly.
He saw the white hair again, distinctly.
“Jackie! Oh, Christ, Jackie, honey.” He pressed close to the bars, wrapping his hands around them. “Are you all right?"
Something moved toward him.
“Jackie?"
A large white hand snaked between the bars, clutched his hair, and pushed him away, then pulled his head hard into the bars.
The darkness was suddenly much, much deeper, and Benedek knew nothing.
Casey drew her knees up against her breasts and covered her ears with her wrists, trying to block out the sound of pounding beneath the floor, trying not to think of what was down there, trying with no success to ignore the raw, chitinous feeling of need that chewed through her body.
The pounding stopped.
She heard a voice, muffled at first, then louder, clearer.
“Casey?"
She pulled one wrist away and looked through her tears at the trapdoor.
“Casey, it's me, Davey!"
She remembered the hands that had groped for her earlier.
“Casey, are you there?"
And wondered if the voice was genuine.
“Casey, unlock this door!"
Or if they were trying to fool her again.
The pounding continued.
“Casey, please!"
She closed her eyes and covered both ears again, whimpering, trying to stop the pounding, the voice, and the pain of her hunger.
As Davey pounded on the trapdoor, he felt the stairs jolt beneath him. When he looked down, the creature was using its claw to heave itself painfully up the steps.
Davey took a step down and kicked the creature in the face as hard as he could without falling.
Bits of its skull shot into the darkness with the impact of Davey's foot, snickering over the floor as they landed. The creature tumbled back to the floor, but immediately rolled over and, despite the dark fluids running out of its forehead and into its eyes, began pulling itself back up the stairs again.
Davey pulled the gun from his pocket and aimed it at the creature's head once again.
“I'll hurt you some more,” Davey blurted, trying to keep the gun from trembling. “I'll hurt you bad."
The thing stopped on the stairs and gawked up at Davey, making a low, throaty humming sound.
The other creatures moved back a bit.
One of them laughed; it sounded more like a belch.
Davey held the gun on the stubby beast.
It didn't come any closer, but it didn't back away.
There were footsteps over Davey's head; they were accompanied by the sound of something heavy being dragged over the floor.
A door opened.
A voice, its words barely distinguishable, spoke angrily: “...one's for you if you want it or ... go down there and fight ... others for it..."
“God, he's alive..."
Casey!
“...him before he wakes..."
“No! No more, please!"
“...have to!"
“No, no, I won't ... him away..."
“All right.” Footsteps, more dragging. “If that”—fumbling clicks, and the door jarred—“is what”—more clicking—“you want.” The door swung open and Davey saw Shideh, soft gold-colored light flickering shadows over her tall figure, lifting a limp body by the back of its coat and dangling it over the opening.
Christ, it's Walter! Davey thought.
She dropped him in and he landed heavily on Davey, tumbling the two of them down the stairs. Davey clutched the gun tightly to keep from dropping it as they rolled over the legless creature on the stairs and sprawled onto the floor. Davey was lying facedown over Benedek and felt him move.
“Walter!” Davey hissed, getting up.
Benedek was on his back; his forehead was bleeding from two cuts.
Davey got up on his knees and began shaking the big man.
“Walter! It's Davey, Walter, for Christ's sake, get up!” The two balls were bobbing on the surface of the oil somewhere inside the silent, squatting tank in the corner and could blow any minute. Davey had no idea how long it would take, providing it worked. If it did, the whole room could be gutted by flames in a moment.
“Let go!” Casey screamed. “Please let go of me, oh God, don't put me down there, please!"
Davey looked up and saw Shideh's arms hooked beneath Casey's, lifting her, kicking frantically, over the open door.
“Walter, get up!” Davey shouted, giving the man one final, hard shake before starting up the stairs two at a time, keeping his eyes on Shideh's feet which stood at the very edge of the opening; he rammed her lower legs with his shoulder as he dove out of the basement.
Shideh fell back and hit the wall; Casey rolled over the floor away from her. Shideh landed on a cushion in the corner and was getting up again even before she was completely down.
“Davey!” Casey cried, and she repeated his name again, laughing and crying at once. “Davey, thank God..."
Davey was on his knees as Shideh lunged forward, her white hair billowing around her head. He raised the gun and fired without aiming.
Shideh's arms splayed outward and her body slammed back against the wall. A dark hole opened in the creamy skin just above the neckline of her black dress.
She tilted her head back; her face tightened and her eyes clenched shut; she pressed herself to the wall and made a deep, almost inaudible growling sound.
The bullet slowly began to ooze back out of the glistening wound in her chest until it was squeezed completely from the opening and fell to the floor with a clicking rattle.
The hole began to close.
Davey fired again and, again, she was thrown against the wall.
He fired again. And again ... and again ... and again...
Something was banging in Benedek's head and something was sticking into his back just below his right shoulder blade, something sharp and hard. He started to roll over, lifting his head painfully.
Where am I? he wondered.
There was a whispered voice to his right.
“This one's alive, too."
What had happened? Just an instant ago, he'd found Jackie in a cage—they were keeping her in a cage — he had to find her again...
Benedek rolled to his left, wincing at the pain in his head and back and legs as he propped himself up on an elbow and gasping when he saw her just a couple feet away from him, lying on her back, her lips slightly parted, her arms stretched out above her head.
“Jackie! Jackie!” he bellowed.
Her nightgown was torn and bloody and her hair was streaked with something dark—what was it?—and Benedek pulled himself toward her as the banging continued—gunshots, he thought vaguely—from above.
“Walter!” Davey shouted between shots. “Walter, get up here!"
Benedek felt himself smiling as he reached for Jackie and pulled her toward him. He opened his mouth to shout to Davey that he'd found her, but the words would not come and the smile twisted into a silent scream when he saw that the left side of Jackie's face was gone, and shattered bones jutted from what used to be a smooth and kissable cheek and her mouth smiled all the way up to the empty socket of her left eye revealing jawbone and two rows of teeth and her throat was open on the left side, the skin frayed to a meaty brown around the edges and Benedek knew he was going to vomit, he felt his gorge rising fast and he pulled away from Jackie's body and emptied himself on the dirty floor. He couldn't hear the voice behind him.
“Just gimme your foot..."
And hardly noticed the tugging on his shoe, but only heard the gonging ring in his ears as he turned his head to look behind him just as he felt hot breath on the side of his bare foot and he sucked in a ragged gasp just as the teeth bit into his flesh.
Davey stopped shooting.
In the sudden silence, Casey's sobs seemed amplified.
Shideh was slumped against the wall, her head bent forward, her white hair cascading before her. The wall was splashed with her blood and bits of flesh. The last shot had taken out her right temple and eye.
The door slammed open and Davey spun around, pointing the gun at a tall balding man with thin, reddish-brown hair. The man made a strangled, shocked sound in his throat when he saw Shideh, then he turned on Davey, baring his fangs as he rushed forward.
Davey fired the gun and the man fell back, slapping his left hand just below his right shoulder; blood dribbled between his fingers as he started toward Davey again.
The gun clicked.
The man lifted a hand to strike Davey.
“Roger!"
He froze, his hand in midair.
“Go!"
> The bottom fell out of Davey's stomach as he looked over his shoulder and saw Shideh rising to her feet. Her head was a bloody mess. The hole that had been over her right temple was smaller.
Jesus, Davey thought, thirteen bullets, I put thirteen bullets into her!
Her dress glistened with trails of blood, but it was no longer flowing freely from her wounds as it had been.
She was healing.
“I'll take this one,” she said, looking at Davey.
Davey stuffed the gun under his left arm and reached to his left pocket for another magazine, but Shideh was moving too quickly.
“Go!” she snapped again at the man by the open door, then turned to Davey once more. Her face, striped with blood from her gouged eye and wounded head, burned with hatred as her lips pulled back over her fangs and her snout curled into a deadly snarl.
The door slammed as the man left.
Benedek screamed downstairs: “Jackie!"
Casey cried Davey's name.
Davey let the gun drop from under his arm. He stuck his hand into his right coat pocket and grasped the handle of the kitchen knife; as Shideh closed in on him, Davey held the blade out before him so that she walked right into it. The knife slid inside her just above her pelvis, and she grunted as she wrapped her powerful arms around Davey's shoulders. Putting his weight into it, Davey pulled up on the blade, slicing through the flesh and muscle of her belly all the way up to her sternum. She leaned on Davey heavily; he could feel her insides oozing against his coat, warm and wet. Her hold on him loosened, her arms slid down his sides, her face rested on his shoulder as she spit up blood with a gurgling sigh. Davey pulled out the knife, stepping back just enough to let her guts splash to the floor, then stepped back again so Shideh had nothing to lean on, and she thumped to the floor facedown.
Davey dropped the bloody knife back into his pocket.