Creepers

by David Morrell

  Thunder rumbled.

  “To hell with this,” JD said. “We found what we wanted. Let’s go before the rain starts. Hey, Big Ears, were you telling the truth that the tunnels might flood?”

  “That’s part of what they were designed for. To carry away storm water,” Vinnie said.

  “Empty the knapsacks,” Tod ordered. “Load them with as many coins as they’ll hold. Stuff your pockets.”

  “But what about them?” JD pointed toward their captives.

  Tod raised the pistol.

  “Wait,” Balenger said. “Something’s wrong.” A chill sped along his nerves. Through the open door, he heard the shrieking wind. Thunder boomed through the broken skylight. The smell of rain gusted in. He heard water pelting the remaining glass in the skylight, heard it splashing on the balcony and the balustrade.

  “Something’s wrong for sure. The storm already started.” Mack dumped the equipment out of his knapsack and hurried toward the vault.

  “Not what I mean.” Balenger stared toward the professor leaning back on the sofa.

  The light from the professor’s headlamp slowly shifted, sinking until it shone on his ample chest. Then it rolled onto his lap, shining up between his legs, as if his hard hat had come loose. But Balenger remembered that Conklin’s hard hat had stayed firmly on his head, even when the stairs collapsed, a chin strap holding it in place.

  Legs numb, he shuffled toward the professor, not sure if he had the strength to get there. Please, God, let me be wrong. But as he forced himself dizzily closer, the smell of rain gave way to the stench of copper. Blood. The sofa was drenched in blood. So was the professor, and it was more than a hard hat that lay pointing upward in his lap. It was his head.

  Acid gushed into Balenger’s mouth. He clamped a hand to his lips, hoping it would stop him from throwing up. He swung toward Tod, gagging. “Get her away from the sofa.”

  “What?”

  “The woman. Amanda. Get her to the other side of the room.”

  “What are you talking about?” Tod peered behind Balenger and saw what was on the sofa. “Oh, fuck.” He swung as abruptly as Balenger had. “Mack, get a sheet from the bedroom!”

  “Why?”

  “Just do what you’re told!”

  “What’s wrong?” JD asked. Then he saw the professor’s blood-soaked, headless torso on the sofa and groaned.

  “Ronnie,” Amanda whimpered.

  Vinnie and Cora turned away in shock.

  “Ronnie’s here,” Amanda said.

  “How?” Tod demanded.

  “We were all in the passageway.” Balenger fought his dizziness. His arms and legs were numb with mounting panic. Emotions from Iraq threatened to overwhelm him. No! he told himself. If you let it take charge, you die. Passive gets you killed. “We left the door open.” Thunder roared. Rain pelted the balcony. “Somebody came in while we were distracted by opening the vault and finding Amanda.”

  “Ronnie,” Amanda said.

  “He stood outside in the dark. He listened for a long time.” Balenger’s voice was unsteady.

  “A long time?” Tod stared at the gloom beyond the open door. “How do you know?”

  “Twenty minutes ago, I told you about Iraq, about the guy who threatened to cut off my head, and now we find the professor with his head—”

  Mack rushed from the bedroom, hurried to the sofa, and threw a sheet over the professor’s body. Blood soaked it. The headlamp between the professor’s legs shone dully upward through the fabric. “It stinks,” Mack said in disgust. “I never realized how much…”

  “Yeah,” Balenger said. “Blood stinks. Mutilated bodies stink.”

  “Ronnie,” Amanda repeated. It seemed the only word she knew.

  “He might still be here!” JD scanned his flashlight into every corner.

  “Shut the door,” Tod ordered. “Lock it.”

  “Lock it how? The crowbar broke the door frame.”

  “Cram furniture against it.”

  JD dragged the bookcase toward the door. “Somebody give me a hand!”

  Vinnie helped him. Balenger rushed to a heavy-looking table. Cora was next to him, sobbing, helping him push the table against the door. Mack lifted a chair on top.

  “Nobody’s coming through there.” Mack grabbed the crowbar.

  “But what if he’s still in the room?” Again, JD scanned his flashlight toward the corners. Its trembling beam made shadows dance.

  “Ronnie’s here,” Amanda said.

  “Check the bedroom, the bathroom, and the closet!” Tod shouted. He hurried toward the bedroom, then turned and aimed at Balenger. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  “I’m not planning on it. Right now, I’d sooner be with you.” Balenger grabbed a hammer from a pile of equipment dumped from a knapsack. He entered the exposed passageway, turned off his headlamp to hide himself, and stood near the staircase, ready with the hammer, listening for the sound of anyone climbing the stairs. What he heard instead were the pounding of his pulse and thunder rattling the walls.

  He became aware of Cora and Vinnie next to him, shutting off their lights, guarding the staircase. Each held a lamp as if it were a club. He glanced toward Amanda, who cowered in the living room, whimpering Ronnie’s name. “Cora, maybe you should stay with her. Try to calm her down.”

  Cora wiped tears from her face. “Do I look like I can calm anybody?” Nonetheless, she went to Amanda.

  Balenger watched Cora touch Amanda’s arm and talk softly to her. Then he returned his attention to the black mouth of the spiral staircase. For all he knew, someone was down there, watching him.

  “He’s not in the closet, the bedroom, or the bathroom,” Tod said, returning with Mack and JD.

  Mack grabbed a water bottle from the floor and drank half of it.

  “We might need to ration the rest of the bottles,” Balenger said.

  “We?” Tod asked.

  “I need to…” Amanda said.

  “What?”

  “Relieve my…”

  “So do I,” Cora said.

  “What’s keeping you?”

  “You took away the bottles we use for—”

  “Go in the bathroom. You won’t have water to flush it, but so what?”

  “I don’t want to be in there alone.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Mack grinned.

  “I will,” Vinnie said. He turned on his headlamp and motioned for the women to follow him into the bedroom. “I’ll be right outside the door.”

  Cora put an arm around Amanda and led her toward the bedroom. Balenger noticed Mack staring toward the back of Amanda’s nightgown. The two women and Vinnie disappeared into the darkness.

  Watching them leave and then scanning the wreckage of the living room, the broken furniture, the destroyed walls, Balenger thought, Leave nothing but footprints? Take nothing but photographs? There’s not much left to ruin.

  “What now, hero?” Tod asked. “Any suggestions?”

  “Use a cell phone to call the police.”

  “Don’t you remember the local emergency number isn’t working? And the regular police number has a long wait.”

  “Then phone the police in another city.”

  “Yeah, right. So instead of facing this Ronnie jerkoff, we get charged for killing your pal, not to mention kidnapping the rest of you. Somehow, I think our odds are better against Ronnie.”

  “Not so far.”

  “Yeah, well, we weren’t organized a little while ago. We didn’t know what we were dealing with.”

  “You still don’t.”

  “We will when the woman comes back and we get some information out of her.”

  JD took an empty knapsack into the vault. “Man, does it ever stink in here.” He threw coins into the knapsack. They made a dull clinking sound.

  “Here’s another suggestion,” Balenger said. Keep making them feel we’re together, he thought. “Collectors won’t pay seven hundred dollars for coins that are scratched. Those are p
erfect, and he’s ruining them.”

  “Hey, asshole,” Tod called. “Be careful with those. Don’t scratch them. Use the trays. Put the coins in, trays and all. I was confused a minute ago,” he told Balenger. “Needed to think. But now I’ve got everything covered. With our goggles, we’ll see Ronnie before he sees us.”

  “Has it occurred to you that he might have goggles, too?”

  Tod frowned, his furrowed brow twisting his tattoos. Footsteps made him turn toward Vinnie, Cora, and Amanda coming back. “Tell us about Ronnie,” he demanded.

  Amanda’s face tightened. Shaken by memories, she took a deep breath. “He…” She bit her lip and forced herself to continue. “I work in a bookstore in Manhattan. He came in a couple of times. Friendly.” She hugged herself. “He must have followed me home to Brooklyn and figured where to park a car, where to hide. A few days earlier, my boyfriend moved out. I was living alone in an apartment I couldn’t afford by myself. I was so worried about paying the rent, I didn’t pay attention when I got off the subway and walked home.”

  “When was this?” Mack asked.

  “I have no idea.” Amanda shivered. “What date is it?”

  “October twenty-fourth.”

  “Oh.” Amanda’s voice dropped. She sank into a chair.

  “What’s wrong?” Balenger asked.

  “The night he grabbed me was June fourteenth.” Amanda’s eyes communicated her dismay and loss. “The store stayed open that night until ten. An author signing. I didn’t get home until midnight. He had a cloth with some kind of chemical in it, something that he pressed over my mouth when I passed an alley.” She took another deep breath. “When I woke up, I was on the bed upstairs. He was sitting next to me, holding my hand.” She closed her eyes, lowered her head, and quivered as if she tasted something disgusting. “That’s when he explained the facts of my new life.”

  “What does he look like?” Tod demanded. “Does he have a gun? If we end up fighting him, what do we need to expect?”

  “Old.”

  “What?”

  “Much older than me. Older than you.” Amanda looked at Balenger, who was thirty-five.

  “How old?” Tod asked.

  “I’m no good at judging that. Anybody over forty looks—”

  “You think he’s over forty?” Balenger asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Is he real old? He can’t be if he overpowered you.”

  “Maybe in his fifties. Tall. Thin. Nervous thin. He has a neutral expression on his face. Even when he smiles, it’s neutral.”

  “A thin guy in his fifties?” Tod began to look confident. “I think we can handle him just fine.”

  “He’s very strong.”

  “Stronger than this?” Tod held up the pistol.

  “He lifts weights.”

  “Thin weightlifters don’t exactly leave me quaking in my shoes.” Tod looked at Mack and JD. “Questions?”

  “Yeah,” JD said. “What are we hanging around for?”

  Mack looked regretfully at Cora, then nodded. “Right. Let’s grab the coins and get out of here.”

  “And them?” JD asked.

  “We tape them to chairs,” Tod said. He took the hammer from Balenger’s hand and tossed it onto the pile of equipment. “We let Ronnie take care of them for us. That way, he’ll get blamed. The cops will probably also blame him for the guy you threw over the railing.”

  “Please,” Amanda said. “Get me out of here.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Help me!”

  “Hey, I’m sorry, but you’re the reason he’s pissed off. If we try to take you out of here, he’ll come after you, which means he’ll come after us. You can’t expect us to be stupid about this.”

  “You bastard.”

  “Well, if that’s how you’re gonna be, get in that chair.” Tod shoved her into it. JD grabbed the duct tape from a pile of equipment on the floor.

  “Sweets, get in this chair,” Mack told Cora.

  “Hero, you get in this one,” Tod said. The remaining chair was propped against the door. “And Big Ears, you stand against a two-by-four in the wall.”

  JD finished taping Amanda to the chair, securing her ankles and shoulders. Then he went to Cora.

  “I’ll do it,” Mack said.

  Balenger saw him feel Cora’s legs and breasts while he worked the tape.

  They put on the heavy knapsacks, then went to the vault and stuffed their pockets with coins. The weight made their bulging coats and pants droop.

  “I hate to waste the pocket space, but we’d better take walkie-talkies in case we get separated,” Tod said.

  Moving awkwardly, they returned to the door. While Tod aimed at it, Mack and JD shifted the furniture away. Mack opened the door and stepped back.

  Thunder boomed. Rain pelted the balcony. A chill breeze gusted in.

  Tod shouted to be heard above the storm. “Ronnie, you don’t need to worry! We’re not taking your girlfriend! We’re leaving her for you! And there’s a bonus! We’re leaving some new pals of hers, too! They’re wrapped up like presents, all ready for you to enjoy! No harm’s been done! We’ll get out of your way! Maybe you don’t know this place is gonna be torn down! The salvagers come next week! You might want to set up shop someplace else! How’s that for being helpful? Sorry we barged in! No hard feelings! We’re going now! Have fun!”

  They put on their goggles and headed for the staircase. Tod hesitated and looked at Balenger. “I’m an artist, do you know that?” He crossed the room and went into the bedroom.

  Straining, Balenger turned his head and watched him come out with an object in his hands.

  “You need this to complete the picture,” Tod said, approaching.

  “No,” Balenger said. The realization of what was about to happen filled him with despair.

  Tod threw Balenger’s hard hat away.

  “Please, don’t.” Balenger’s voice broke.

  The object in Tod’s hands was a pillowcase. He tugged it over Balenger’s head.

  It reeked of age and dust. “No,” Balenger begged. “Take it off.”

  “What would be the fun in that?”

  In panicked sightlessness, Balenger heard Tod cross the room.

  “So long, everybody!” Mack said.

  “It’s been great!” JD said.

  Balenger heard them descending the staircase, the sound of their footsteps getting fainter.

  In his tortured memory, he sat tied to a wooden chair in a dirty concrete-block building in Iraq, a sack over his head, while the only one of his captors who spoke English threatened to decapitate him. Until this moment, he was certain that nothing more terrifying could ever happen to him.

  Now he realized how wrong he’d been. The second time was worse. This was worse. Thunder booming. Rain pelting. Unable to see anything through the pillowcase except the faint light of the candles and the dim beam of the professor’s headlamp pointing up from between his legs. The lamp’s glow barely pierced the sheet that covered the headless body.

  Yes, this was worse. Duct-taped to a chair. Breathless under the hood. Knowing that three other people shared the same death sentence. Waiting for Ronnie. Not being able to see when Ronnie arrived. Not being able to hear his footsteps because of the wind, the thunder, and the rain. Ronnie might be standing in front of him right now, about to slash with whatever he used to cut off the professor’s head.

  Balenger’s chest heaved. His breathing was so labored, he didn’t believe he could survive. Sweat surged from his body, from every pore, more sweat than he thought could possibly gush from him. It soaked his clothes. He was hot and then suddenly cold. Shivering, he told himself that now had to end sometime. It couldn’t be prolonged forever. He’d managed to make it last a year since Iraq. A year was something. A year more than he’d expected. But now was about to end.

  Thunder shook the building. Was Ronnie standing silently in front of him, about to use a scythe or a sword or a butcher knife? Will I feel
the force of the blow before my throat gushes blood and my brain shuts down?

  Hero. That’s what Tod called me. Hero. A joke. A putdown. Hero? I toss from the same nightmare every night. I wake up exhausted, afraid to get out of bed. I needed every ounce of my remaining strength to force myself to come to this godawful place. All of it gone. Hero? The son of a bitch. Leaving us to die. The cocksucker. Putting this pillowcase over my head. I won’t let him get away with this. I’ll find him. I’ll track him down. I’ll squeeze my hands around his throat. I’ll…

  “Vinnie!” Balenger’s voice was muffled under the pillowcase. “Can you hear me!”

  “Yes!”

  “Can you move at all? Maybe there’s a nail or a jagged edge of wood that you can rub the tape against and cut it!”

  “Too tight!”

  Balenger heard someone sobbing. At first, he thought he was disassociating, hearing his own sobs. Then he realized they came from Amanda.

  “Amanda, we haven’t been introduced.” Under the circumstances, the normal-sounding statement was insane, Balenger knew. But he had to try to calm her. If they were going to get out of this, they wouldn’t be able to do it with someone who was hysterical. “My name’s Frank. That’s Vinnie over there. And Cora’s the gal near you. I guess I’m not supposed to say ‘gal.’ It’s not politically correct.”

  Amanda’s sobs changed rhythm, lessening. Balenger sensed she was puzzled. “So now that we’re all acquainted, I want you to do something for me. Do you think you can move the duct tape and get out of the chair?”

  “Trying.”

  Balenger waited.

  “I…”

  Balenger sweated and felt time passing.

  “No. It’s too tight.”

  “Cora?”

  “Can’t. While that bastard was feeling me up, he really made the tape secure.”

  What are we going to do? Balenger wondered. His hot breath accumulated under the pillowcase, threatening to smother him. He strained to remember the room, to identify something that could help them. Glass. Glass on the floor from the table he’d broken.

  “Amanda?”

  She sniffled. “What?”

  “Can you see the broken glass on the floor? Halfway between me and Vinnie.”