The Skin Show

by Kristopher Rufty

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Karen pushed the solid mass above her. It gave slightly, then dropped back down. When she’d first started her painful trek into the basement, she’d thought it had reminded her of her grandmother’s cellar. And, if it was anything like it, what she was pushing against would be the storm doors attached to the side of the house.

  Now the barbwire made sense. It was a trap set for anybody dumb enough to come down these steps. Like a spider’s web, the barbwire would keep somebody restrained until something came to get it.

  Thank you, God, for me getting free…

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d acknowledged God, but thought now would be a great time to start back up. She was alive—for now—and would thank Him for it. But, all that pain and struggle would be for nothing if she couldn’t get past these doors.

  Patting with her hands, the doors felt thin and hollow. She was positive a lock of some kind was on the other side preventing the doors from opening, but they felt weak enough that she might be able to break them open.

  Carefully, she squatted, took a few quick deep breaths, holding the last one as she sprung herself upward. She canted her head to the side just before crashing against the doors. Something cracked—hopefully the wood and not her neck—then she dropped back down.

  And slipped through the gap between the steps.

  She grabbed the upper step, saving herself from falling all the way through. Just her legs this time, but it was too close a call.

  Green light began to thin the darkness around her. She looked back.

  The creatures were coming. Not very far away, they approached the stairs, walking hunched over to avoid bashing their heads on the ceiling beams.

  “No!”

  Growls returned her cry.

  Karen pulled her hips through, sitting her rump on the step. She didn’t take the time to confirm she had purchase and scrambled back into a squat. Her toes felt like they were being crushed as she pushed down. Then she threw herself upward, smashing into the doors again.

  More splintering cracks, but the doors held.

  When she dropped, she landed better this time. “Dammit! Open, you bastard!”

  She stole another glance behind her. The creatures were at the stairs. Instead of climbing them, they walked behind them. Arms reaching, they were going to try and grab her feet.

  Bastards are probably too heavy for the stairs!

  If so, it would delay them getting her. Karen jumped. She hadn’t aimed right, so this hit was too awkward to do much damage. Plus, she hadn’t angled her neck and took the force of the impact directly on her crown. It felt as if the collision pressed her neck down the center of her back. She tingled from the shoulders down to her wrists, from neck to hips. She nearly tumbled all the way to the floor, quickly regaining her balance as hands swiped at her ankles.

  Screaming, Karen stomped at their elongated talons, missing with each attempt. She squatted, felt claws slice her exposed calf through the torn skirt, and jumped. The manufactured wood peeled around her left shoulder as it crashed through the flat paneling. Now standing, and bent at a painful angle, she dislodged her shoulder from the door and looked down.

  An arm reached out below her, fingers flexing, the tips of its claws hardly an inch from her Achilles tendon. She knew she should keep working at the hole, but she couldn’t pass up an opportunity to do this.

  Karen jumped.

  All her weight came down on the glowing arm. Both feet planted firmly above the wrist, snapping the forearm in half. A painful shriek emanated from the darkness as the creature worked at trying to free its arm from under her. The texture of the writhing skin felt like scales glazed in honey. She almost slipped, so she hopped up to the next step. The arm shot back behind the stairs.

  Smirking, she started back to the top.

  Then the stairs began to quake. The frame violently trembled, bouncing and jerking from side to side like a bridge in a funhouse. Karen held on, her legs dancing wildly behind her as they tried to find leverage. Her knees bounced off the edges of the steps, sending stabs of dull bursts up to her stomach.

  She screamed for them to stop, although she knew it would do no good.

  At the bottom of the stairs, a creature emerged. Holding its hurt arm close, the skin radiated a dark red simmer. She wondered if it was angry, hurt, or both. The other creature remained behind the stairs, rocking them, trying to make her fall.

  So that one down there can catch me.

  Nope. Not gonna happen…

  Karen put her back to it, crawling back to the top as the creature snarled irately from below. Crouching on the top step, she revved back her arm and punched the door below the hole. Her fist went straight through. She tugged it back, scraping it on the jagged edges of the busted cheap wood. Warm blood oozed down the back of her hand as she began to tug the border around the hole. Pieces broke off. She let them drop and grabbed back on, tugging until even more broke away, widening the hole.

  The creature at the bottom of the stairs growled. Understanding what she was doing, it mounted the stairs, not caring if it broke them.

  Karen screamed cuss words at it as she continued snapping off chunks. The hole was much bigger. As if about to take flight, she sprung once more, arms stretched out, sailing through.

  Her breasts stopped her.

  “Shit!”

  Squirming in the hole, her breasts kept her wedged there.

  “Help!”

  She didn’t know who could possibly be out there to help, but it wasn’t going to stop her from trying. Out of options, she continued to scream as she wriggled her clogged body. Her breasts squished so tightly they felt like they might pop.

  Putting her hands flush on the door, Karen pushed with all she had. Her feet slipped off the step, kicking at the air. A hand grabbed her ankle. And pulled.

  She felt herself being jerked down.

  “Let go of me! Help!”

  No one was coming to her rescue. She was alone out here and losing this battle fast. The hand, belonging to the creature on the stairs, no doubt, yanked and yanked. She guessed the stairs were more durable than she’d originally thought. Keeping her hands flat, she pushed to counter him, kicking with her free foot. She struck the arm a few times, but the hold never loosened.

  The doors continued to groan, threatening to shatter. If that happened, she was dead.

  “Hey!”

  Karen looked up to find a heavyset man dressed in jeans and a leather jacket rushing towards her. As he neared, she saw his beard, the dark bandanna wrapped around his head. He was struggling to buckle the belt of his pants.

  One of the bikers!

  “What’s going on?” he shouted.

  “Help!”

  He dropped to his knees in front of the storm doors, reaching for her. She threw her arms out to him, hoping he would catch them before the creature wrenched her back down into the cellar.

  He did.

  Both of his hands clasped hers. His strength was surprising as he tugged at her. Karen cried out when her breasts grated the jagged tips of the hole. Finally they popped out. She felt herself being hauled through the hole. Her hips caught, but only for a moment. The door cracked, freeing her.

  The hand gripping her ankle released, and she flew out. The biker fell back, Karen landing on top of him. Synchronized groans gusted from both their mouths. She could smell old beer on his breath, and felt two strong arms wrap around her back.

  “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “Thank you…thank you so much! We have to get help!”

  “Everyone else already left! I was hoping if I hung around long enough they’d let me in. Wouldn’t have even noticed you if I didn’t come back here to take a piss! Was someone attacking you?!”

  The question gave Karen the boost she needed. If it was up to her, she would have continued to lie there, even if it was on the chest of a beefy stranger. She squirmed on his wilted gut, working free of his clumsy emb
race. Her knee dug into his abdomen as she rolled off him. Once she was on the ground, she fumbled to get on her knees.

  “Damn, girl!” He sat up, moaning. “Tell me what’s going on!”

  “We need to get out of here!”

  Getting to his knees, the man rubbed his belly. Wincing, he looked at her through one opened eye. “Wha…?” His question was cut off by the pale giant hand bursting through the door and dropping down, palming his head like a basketball. Claws dug into his skin, fingers pushing into his eyes up to bony knuckles. Screaming, the man thrashed as he reached up, grabbing the forearm with both hands. Blood flowed down his face, drenching it in a crimson mask. In a flash of movement, the man flew back, crashing through the door. The last Karen saw of him was his silver-toed boots vanishing inside the obscurity of the cellar.

  Karen screamed, senselessly reaching out a hand, as if to stop his rearward plunge. She stayed that way for a few short moments that felt endless, frozen on her knees, one arm out.

  The man’s agonizing screams, combined with the juicy rips of his flesh being devoured, the splintery snaps of bones, the blood squirting through the gaping hole in the door like a sprinkler system, jarred her from her daze. Karen gauchely got to her feet. Her legs felt wobbly and weak, though she managed to stay upright.

  She ran.

  Sprinting alongside the house, Karen kept close to the stone walls. The trees on this side reached far out, the tips of their branches scratching at the siding. Leaves whacked her face as she dashed through. Throwing up her hands, she blocked some of their slaps, but not all of them. One poked her in the eye. It filled with water and made her vision look as if she was swimming under water with her eyes open. When she no longer felt the house to her left, she stopped running, and rubbed her eyes with the balls of her fists.

  Karen opened her eyes. She could see better, but it was still watery and blurry. She was at the end of the waiting line, or where it had been earlier. She remembered the biker telling her no one was here. Seeing the lone Harley parked in front of the bike rail was depressing. Its owner would never straddle the leather seat ever again.

  Karen’s chest started to tighten. Her eyes once again became moist, but this time, it was tears causing it. She was about to head for the parking lot when the playful call of her name resounded through the night.

  “Kareeeeen?”

  Sugar.

  The faux southern accent was back. Turning, Karen spotted Sugar perched like a bird atop a wooden fence post several feet away. She was black against the gray light of the moon. Her wavy hair stirred in a breeze Karen couldn’t feel.

  “Stay away from me!” threatened Karen.

  Sugar laughed. Its playful chortle was mocking in tone. “Hooooo…and if I don’t?”

  Karen glanced to the parking lot, over cars to the area where Andy had parked. Unlike a lot of her friends, Karen never forgot where she parked. It was a gift given to her by God for this very night. She could find Andy’s car with no problem…as long as she could get to it.

  Sugar might have read her mind. “Thinking about making a break for the car?”

  “It crossed my mind.” Karen’s voice was trembling and thin. It lacked the assertive conviction she’d hoped for. She hurt all over and felt sticky spots spreading across her skin. She’d been beaten up bad. Still, she wouldn’t let it affect her. She was not going to let them get her.

  What do they want with me?!

  Duh! To kill me!

  Karen felt a cold stab in her back.

  The Skin Show was a front…an alluring sham used to bait people into a den of monsters. She’d been duped…so had Andy…Danny…everyone.

  “Then go for it,” said Sugar.

  Karen took a deep breath. “I’m working myself up to it.”

  Another laugh. The dark curve of her head shook. “You missed your chance.”

  Sugar emitted a thin crackling noise. It sounded as if someone was unrolling a tube of paper. Karen watched as something sprouted from Sugar’s back, spreading. There was a tightened flap as wings extended. Not feathery annexes like those of an angel, but dingy mats like a ragged kite, like the wings on the she-beasts inside. The tips fluttered like a tattered flag.

  A scream tickled the back of Karen’s throat, sticking there. “Oh…shit…”

  Sugar screeched like a tortured owl.

  And, Karen ran.

  She heard a whoosh behind her, feeling the wind rustle her hair as she ran. She bent her head, pumping her aching arms. Knees shot high in front of her as she dashed through the tight spaces between parked cars.

  Wind buffeted her, beating against her clothes. Sugar was gaining on her. She could feel Sugar’s hot, putrid breath on the back of her neck. Could smell the decaying stench huffing behind her.

  Karen dove under a van just as Sugar grabbed for her. Fingers combed through her hair, barely missing. She belly crawled under the van. Trying to catch her breath, she heard the tinny bang of Sugar landing on the van’s ceiling.

  Three more rows. Please…let me make it three more rows to Andy’s car. You’ve done so much already…just a little more.

  Karen didn’t give Sugar a chance to look for her. She clambered out from under the van, scraping her back on the undercarriage as she clawed the ground. When her legs were free, she jumped to her feet, and raced onward.

  Another horrible screech, followed by a whipping crack splitting the air as Sugar took flight.

  Flight! She’s flying! Grew fucking wings! Karen couldn’t allow her mind to go crazy with what she’d already seen. If her mind ran wild, it would have a heart attack and die.

  Karen cut around the front of a car. She leaped. Her rump slid across the corner of the hood. Sugar’s hands slashed. Karen heard the fiberglass being seared like nails on a chalkboard. Her feet slapped the ground. Daring a glance back, she saw four tight vales in the gleaming paleness of the paint.

  Karen paused long enough to look up. She saw Sugar circling around, wings lashing the sky, then dive.

  “Shit!”

  Karen turned around, saw Andy’s car one row up, and squealed in delight. On her way, she searched the ground. It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for. Bending over as she ran, she scooped up the rock. It was the size of a softball, filling her hand.

  Nearing the Camaro, she held up her arm and chucked the rock. It shattered the glass when it hit the window. Karen slid to a halt, reached through the smashed opening, and jerked the door’s inner handle. The door popped open. She threw it back and dove in, ignoring the stinging slashes of glass on her hands and knees.

  Spinning around, she grabbed the handle and pulled the door shut. She saw the quick blur of Sugar zipping by.

  For a brief moment, the car felt safe, but she quickly began to feel smothered in its cramped space.

  Get the gun!

  Karen turned around, reaching over the seat. Her knees dug into shards of glass, pricking her skin. Her hands clawed at the seat. She wasn’t close enough, so she stretched her legs, hanging over the seat. Fingers patted carpet in search for the gun. They bumped against something smooth and cool.

  “Yes!”

  She grabbed the gun and sat back. First thing, she switched off the safety. Then she cocked a round into the chamber. It was ready to fire. Being a .32, she had fifteen chances to kill Sugar before running out of ammo.

  She hoped it was enough.

  Sugar swooped past the windshield. Karen held the gun out, wanting to take a shot, but she didn’t have the room to accurately hold it. If she fired with her arms slightly bent like this, the recoil would throw the gun back and bash her in the nose. No, she needed more room.

  Karen flung the passenger door open and scrambled out of the car. She looked behind her and was met with Sugar’s distorted face. Shark-like teeth had ripped through where her lips had been and Karen saw her yawning mouth barely in time to dodge it.

  Karen heard the snap of Sugar’s teeth in a bite that was meant for her fac
e.

  Twirling, she fell against an old Mazda truck. She put her back against its comforting solidity. Throwing back her head to get her hair away from her face, she raised the gun. She didn’t need a moment to aim. Sugar was already soaring right at her.

  Karen unloaded the clip into Sugar. Bullets punched into her face, her neck and chest in quick murky pops. But, she kept coming. Lunging out of the way, Karen hit the ground as Sugar kept going and smashed into the truck’s door. She crashed through it, traveled through the cab, and discharged out the other side. Both windshields exploded in clouds of glass from the impact.

  Karen heard the whapping of the passenger door spinning in the air. A second crash soon followed.

  Lying on her back, Karen panted. The gun was hot through the vibrations in her hand. She held it up and saw the chamber was locked in the spent position. Karen was positive that every damn round had pegged Sugar.

  No one could have survived that.

  But, Sugar wasn’t just any regular person, now was she? Not unless Karen wanted to count someone who could grow wings and fly around as normal.

  Karen struggled to get up. She needed to use the side of the truck’s bed to stand. Leaning against the truck, she took several breaths before moving. Walking around the tailgate, she reached the other side.

  And saw Sugar hanging out of the truck from the waist. Her arms lay bent on the ground. The wings were displayed limply on her back like weird growths. Her wavy locks draped her face, shielding it from Karen’s sight. Didn’t matter, though. She didn’t need to see Sugar’s face to know she was dead.

  But, if she had at least one more bullet to spare, she’d fire it into Sugar’s head to be sure. Since she didn’t, she had to trust her judgment.

  Yes, she was dead.

  Karen looked around. The truck’s passenger door was imbedded in the butt of a Honda a good ways over. Funny spectacle that it was, Karen couldn’t laugh. She doubted she’d ever be able to laugh again.

  She glanced at Andy’s Camaro. It was hard to believe just earlier today she’d been riding inside with Andy. In such a short span of time, they’d seen too much weird shit to last a lifetime. And that was before Sugar even got into the car, before The Skin Show. What happened to their day?