by Tim Waggoner
Neither Sela nor Ronnie got out of the vehicle. Jayce thought Sela might honk the horn, but instead she took out her phone and sent a quick text. A few moments passed, and then the door opened and the twins – Theron and Theron – stepped into the alley.
Jayce had been wrong. The Cannery still held surprises for him.
One of the twins slid open the van’s side door, unbuckled Ohio Pig’s seatbelt, and pulled him out of the van as if he weighed no more than a jumbo-sized package of extra-soft toilet paper. Theron slung the Pig over his shoulder and walked away. The other Theron reached in then, and he undid Nicola’s and Jayce’s belts, took them out of the van, and slung each over a shoulder, lifting them without any more effort than his brother had lifted Ohio Pig. Although Jayce and Nicola were awake, both of them were still quite weak, and they were unable to put up a fight as Theron carried them around the front of the van, following his brother. Jayce squinted in the glare of the van’s headlights, but when they were past them, he caught a glimpse of Sela and Ronnie through the windshield. They smiled and waved, and then Sela put the van in gear and pulled away.
The alley was unlit, but the headlights had allowed Jayce to see the van’s color as Theron carried them. It was a glossy, bright red.
The twins carried them to the building and closed and locked the door behind them. They were in a small, dimly lit room with a set of stairs leading downward. The first twin descended, carrying the Pig, and the second followed with Jayce and Nicola.
“Where are you taking us?” Jayce’s voice was thick and slow, as if he were still partially drugged, but at least he could get the words out.
Theron didn’t answer.
Jayce caught Nicola’s eye, but she shook her head. It seemed she had no more idea about what was happening than he did. He assumed this was the rear exit for Crimson Splendor – or at least, one of them – and he imagined people fleeing up these stairs earlier during the Harvest Man’s attack. The twins continued down for a time until they came to another metal door. One of the twins opened it, and he and his brother walked through, carrying Jayce, Nicola, and Ohio Pig with them.
Crimson Splendor was empty, the red lights turned off in favor of bright fluorescents. The lighting made the place look stark and shabby, no longer a scene of dark wonder. Now it was just another shitty club after closing time. No effort had been made to clean up the mess that had been left when the club’s patrons had panicked and fled. Chairs and tables were overturned, and broken glass was scattered everywhere. As the twins carried them past the bar and farther into the club, Jayce had the sense that they were not as alone as he’d thought. He couldn’t see forward the way Theron carried him, but he heard the soft sound of ice cubes clinking against the inside of a glass. The twins stopped at a table, and Theron put Jayce and Nicola into seats. Both were still weak, but they were able to keep themselves propped up by resting their arms on the tabletop. The other twin made no move to put Ohio Pig down.
Ivory, still dressed in her tuxedo, alabaster skin virtually gleaming, sat across the table from Jayce and Nicola. She held a glass of amber liquid with ice cubes floating in it.
“Gave up huffing vessels?” Jayce asked.
Ivory raised her glass. “Vessels are for the young. I only drink brandy, the more sinfully expensive, the better.”
Ohio Pig stirred then, and Ivory looked at the twin holding him.
“Take him on down, and give him a stimulant to wake him up. I’ll bring these two when I’m finished speaking with them.”
The twin nodded to acknowledge her words and then bore the Pig off in the direction of the elevator.
“Down where?” Jayce asked, but Ivory ignored his question and took a sip of brandy.
Nicola was taking longer to shake off her drug-induced haze than Jayce had, and she stared at Ivory with bleary eyes, blinking to clear her vision.
“You’re…alive,” she whispered.
Ivory smiled at her. “And I intend to stay that way for a very long time. Forever, if I can manage it.”
“You’re a duplicate,” Jayce said. “One of the Underborn.”
“Close, but no cigar,” she said. “I’m the real deal. The Ivory you saw the Harvest Man destroy was my duplicate. I didn’t survive as long as I have by taking chances. I spend most of my time below, and my duplicate runs – I mean ran – things up here. I’ll need to make a new one now.” She sipped her brandy once more. “I dislike the process. It’s messy and uncomfortable, but I suppose you can say that about actual birth too. At least creating an Underborn doesn’t leave stretch marks.”
Jayce glanced at the remaining twin, who stood close to the table. “They’re Underborn too, aren’t they?”
“Yes, but they’re not twins. They’re created from a single individual, a very strong and extremely loyal servant of mine who volunteered to be the raw material from which my luscious-looking guards are created. I make sure only two of them are seen in public at any given time. Even in the Cannery, it would cause questions if a dozen copies of the same person were running around at once.”
“And they’re all called Theron,” Jayce said.
Ivory shrugged. “It’s too much work to come up with separate names for all of them. Besides, there’s no way to tell them apart, so why bother?”
Nicola’s eyes looked clearer now, and she sat up straight, more or less.
“Have I ever.…” Nicola’s voice was breathy. She paused, swallowed once, and when she resumed her voice was firmer. “Have I ever spoken to the real you?”
“A few times,” Ivory said. “But most of your interactions were with my duplicate. Sorry, but you and I aren’t really besties.”
“You – the other you – didn’t have any intention of helping me find my daughter,” Jayce said. “Because you’re responsible for what happened to her.”
“Not directly, but yes, I am ultimately responsible. A place like the Cannery, where Shadow is so strong, is very much an ecosystem. And like any ecosystem, it requires balance to remain healthy. If this balance becomes upset, if it tips one way more than another, the result is chaos. For the last two hundred years – almost from the founding of Oakmont – I’ve worked to maintain the balance between Shadow and ‘normal’ reality in this town. The denizens of Shadow have…appetites that need to be sated, and all too often their satisfaction comes at the cost of ordinary humans, people to whom Shadow is, at most, only a partially glimpsed nightmare, easily dismissed and more easily forgotten. If Shadow’s influence was allowed to spread unchecked, it would eventually mean the end of Oakmont. The town – and everyone in it – would die, and the denizens of Shadow, bereft of prey, would move on to other towns and begin to spread their corruption there.
“I realized long ago that what the Shadowers in this town needed wasn’t free-range prey, but rather a reliable, steady, and above all cultivated supply. So I brought the Primogenitor to Oakmont, installed it in the Creche, and began duplicating a select number of townsfolk, people handpicked for certain desired qualities. A particularly ear-piercing scream, for example, or extra-succulent flesh. Or, in the case of your daughter, exceptional sexual intensity. These chosen are given to the Primogenitor, who then produces duplicates – whom we call the Underborn – that can survive Shadowers’ attentions again and again. And when a duplicate reaches a point where it can no longer fulfill its function—”
“You mean when it’s dead,” Jayce interrupted.
“—we simply replace it. Of course, the originals eventually wear out after several decades, so we’re always on the lookout for fresh supplies. That’s the true purpose of Crimson Splendor and The Hole Thing, along with many of the other establishments in the Cannery – almost all of which I own, by the way. My servants continually keep watch for extraordinary individuals who will satisfy even the most jaded Shadower.”
“That’s how you found Emory, isn’t it?” Jayce
said. “She shopped at The Hole Thing, bought a Pink Devil, probably even tried it out in one of the demonstration rooms. Sela was so impressed by her sexual ‘intensity’ that the next time she visited the shop, Sela and Ronnie abducted her and brought her here.”
“Yes. And I understand how you must feel about that. But your daughter’s sacrifice – along with that of the others who are bound to the Primogenitor – is a meaningful, even necessary one. Because the most dangerous Shadowers are able to do what they must with a virtually endless supply of Underborn, the citizens of Oakmont are spared.” She paused. “Most of them, anyway.”
“Is that what you’re going to do with us?” Jayce asked. “Give us to this Primogenitor and use us to make life-sized, living, breathing action figures for your customers’ entertainment?”
“Oh, no. I have something much more fun in mind for you two.” She finished the rest of her brandy in a single gulp, then put the empty glass down on the table. “We’re going downstairs now. You can walk on your own if you behave yourselves. But if you do anything you shouldn’t, Theron will be right behind you to remind you of your manners.”
Ivory rose then and headed for the elevator, without a backward glance to see if they followed.
Jayce was able to stand without help, although his legs felt a little wobbly. Nicola started to rise, but then her legs gave out. Even with his hands bound, Jayce was able to grab hold of her arm and keep her from falling. She gave him a weak but grateful smile, and after a couple seconds, she nodded. Jayce let go of her arm, and she was able to remain standing on her own.
“Get moving,” the Theron said. There was no gruffness in his voice, no animosity. He might as well have been reminding them of an appointment they didn’t want to be late for instead of giving prisoners an order.
Jayce and Nicola started walking side by side. Nicola’s gait became stronger and more sure with every step, but Jayce wanted to stay close to her in case she needed his help again. Theron traveled close behind.
Ivory was halfway to the elevator, and she spoke without looking back at them. “I must say, the appearance of the Harvest Man was a surprise, and one I could have very much done without. Customers will avoid the club like it’s a plague zone for weeks. Trevor managed to get out before the worst of it, and he told me he could smell the Harvest Man on you, Jayce. Did you bring him here?”
She tried to make the last question sound casual, but Jayce picked up on the undercurrent of tension in her voice.
“I’d never heard of the Harvest Man before tonight.” Technically, he was telling the truth. He hadn’t heard the name before. “And I have no clue why his scent was on me.” This was at least a partial lie. He didn’t actually know, although he guessed it was due to their encounter at the mall when he was young.
He wanted to tell Ivory that if the Harvest Man had entered Crimson Splendor because of him, his only regret was that the monster hadn’t killed the real her. But he restrained himself. He didn’t want to piss her off any more than she already was. He didn’t care what happened to him, but he didn’t want Nicola to be hurt because he mouthed off. And although their situation was bad, he was closer to finding Emory than ever before, and he didn’t want to jeopardize his chances of being reunited with her.
Ivory didn’t reply, didn’t so much as slow her pace toward the elevator. She seemed content to let the matter go for now, and that was good enough for him.
When Ivory reached the elevator, she pressed a button and the door opened. She went inside, then pressed another button on the car’s control panel to hold the door for the rest of them.
“Do you know what’s below this level?” Jayce asked Nicola.
She shook her head. “I didn’t know there was a level deeper than the club. I knew about the Underborn, but I had no idea exactly where they came from.”
They joined Ivory in the elevator and Theron came after. Ivory took her finger off the hold button and the door slid closed. The elevator began descending then, but when Jayce looked at the control panel, he saw only one button for a lower level, the one that took people to the club. He didn’t know how Ivory had signaled the elevator to go lower, but it was.
They rode for only a short time before the elevator stopped and the door slid open again. Theron put his hands on Jayce’s and Nicola’s shoulders to keep them from exiting. Ivory once more pressed the hold button to keep the door open.
“This is the level immediately below the club,” she said. “Here, Shadowers can sate their most debased and disgusting sexual desires. I call it Carnality.”
Beds, couches, and rugs were everywhere, along with free-standing shower stalls and bathtubs. There were chairs and tables with built-in leather restraints, and the walls were covered with manacles for both wrists and ankles. The lighting was blue here, and the music – industrial metal with a pounding beat – was deafening. The level was filled with people fucking and being fucked in every combination and configuration imaginable. People made liberal use of sex toys and strap-ons, whips and riding crops, paddles and rods, and all manner of devices mundane and exotic. Jayce recognized some of the more sinister-looking toys from the Funhouse at The Hole Thing, including more than a few Pink Devils, although in this light they looked more like Blue Devils. As loud as the music was, Jayce could hear a chorus of moans, groans, grunts, and screams, and the air stank of sweat, semen, vaginal juices, piss, and shit. A number of Therons – all naked – walked among the revelers, keeping an eye on them and, when necessary, pitching in to lend a hand, or any other body part, as required. Evidently Ivory’s prohibition against more than one Theron being seen in public didn’t extend to Crimson Splendor’s lower levels.
Jayce noticed something else about the people taking their pleasures in Carnality. Half of them looked like normal humans, but the rest were distorted or deformed in various ways, some of which were quite monstrous. He remembered then what Ivory had said about how the levels below the Club were designed to cater to those beings who had been most changed by Shadow and had the most extreme appetites. He also noticed something else: a number of the regular humans resembled each other, as if they were clones. No, he told himself. Underborn created by the Primogenitor.
Ivory spoke then. “This is where Emory – or rather, her duplicates – work. If you wandered around, I’m sure you could find at least half a dozen of them out there right now, giving as good as they’re getting.” She gave Jayce a sly sideways glance. “And if you ever had any father-daughter fantasies, I’d be happy to pause on this level for a while and give you a chance to act them out. Provided, of course, that you let us watch.”
Jayce gritted his teeth in anger, but he refused to let her bait him. “No thanks.”
There was nothing even remotely erotic about the spectacle before them. There was no love, no tenderness, not even the simple joy of engaging in a highly pleasurable physical activity with another. This was mindless satiation, the exploitation of flesh for its own sake, taking without any thought of giving in return. And even if Emory herself wasn’t present, the thought that her image was out there being used like disposable tissues to ejaculate into sickened him.
“Too bad,” Ivory said. She released the hold button, the door closed, and the elevator began to descend once more. Again, they didn’t travel far before they stopped and the door opened.
This level was green, and screams of agony filled the air, along with loud classical music. In some ways, this level was laid out like Carnality. There were tables and chairs, both with restraints, and manacles were affixed to brick walls. Duplicates of Theron – these fully clothed – were present as well, some walking the level as they did above, others standing by to assist customers with their needs. And while those needs still related to the flesh, they were less about its sexual pleasures and more about finding as many different – and bloody – ways to ravage it as possible. The stench here was even worse than in Carnality. The
level stank of coppery blood and raw meat, and the air fairly vibrated with the agony of those whose flesh was being violated. The tables and chairs were metal with built-in gutters to catch and channel blood into floor drains. Each ‘station’ had a table with an assortment of equipment laid out: surgical tools, knives, hammers, screwdrivers, hatchets, axes, electric carving knives, blowtorches, barbed wire, chainsaws, handguns, shotguns, rifles, and compound bows. There were also glass and plastic containers of chemicals which Jayce assumed held bleach, acid, kerosene, gasoline, and all manner of poisons, from those that killed instantly to those that took their time. The patrons here were even more monstrous than those above, and the beings they played with were all Underborn. Some of the Shadowers wore surgical gowns, masks, and rubber gloves. Others wore industrial coveralls and boots. Some wore plastic ponchos, while others were naked so they could feel the blood spatter on their skin. The Therons acted like surgical assistants, handing patrons tools of torture and death as needed.
Jayce was surprised to recognize one of the sadists. It was the Napkin Eater. He wore a gore-smeared leather apron, and his metal case lay open on the equipment table next to him, displaying a staggering variety of knives. The Napkin Eater stood before the body of a naked toddler – boy or girl, it was impossible to tell – whose chest was being held open by rib spreaders. As if aware he was being watched, the Napkin Eater turned toward the elevator, and when he saw Jayce and Nicola, he grinned and waved, blood flying from an object gripped in his green-gloved hand. That’s when Jayce realized the sonofabitch was holding a small heart in his hand.
“This level is called Snuff,” Ivory said. “For obvious reasons. There’s also a special café in the back for those who like to eat what they kill. My chefs can prepare meat any way you like, and if you prefer to do it yourself, there are open cooking stations.”