by Sara Clancy
Cracks snaked through the stone above their heads. The ground trembled. A roaring bellow severed the silence an instant before shrapnel rained down upon her.
Mina scrambled back, butting against Buck as she tried to protect her face from the pelting stones.
Jeremiah screamed; the sound drowned out by the chaos around them. Through watering eyes, Mina caught sight of what was bearing down upon them. The curved, alabaster horn of a colossal bull shattered the top of the tunnel. The Minotaur drove itself down harder, searching for flesh, thrashing its head in an attempt to shred the boy’s back.
Mina shrieked as thunder boomed and the tunnel shook. A kiss of pain slashed across her shoulder blade. Latching onto her bag, she shoved it up, trying to use it as a shield. It barely got a foot off of the ground before it hit the ground above her. The bull lunged again, shredding the ceiling. The tattered remains bombarded her head, her legs. Buck growled and snarled, all of it lost under the enraged bovine screams.
The tunnel rattled, throwing her helplessly about the minimal space, leaving her broken and bloody against the crumbling rock. Mina felt the sand beneath her slip only a second before the slight pull became a sinkhole. Thousands of hands reached out to grab her, their moist rotting skin reflecting the blue light. Grasping the bag with both hands, she swung it into the hole. The hands distorted before her eyes. Suddenly, they weren’t solid anymore, leaving the growing pit gaping before her. The ground lurched, and shifting sand dragged her down.
***
Basheba curled against the slab of concrete, desperately protecting her head while the deluge of sand left her gasping for breath. The weight bore her down, pushing against the injuries she had sustained in the short fall. The downpour trickled away. She waited for a moment longer before pushing off of the ground. The granules slid off of her, adding more airborne dust to the lingering fog.
Coughing hard sent new spirals of pain coiling around her ribs. Bruised, not broken. Landing on her backpack hadn’t helped. She wrapped an arm around her waist to brace herself for the next coughing fit.
“Buck?” She cleared her throat and croaked out. “Cadwyn?”
“I’m here,” he groaned.
Turning her head, she found him just behind her. Exactly where he had been in the tunnel. But when she looked before her, Buck was missing.
“Buck!” she screamed before attempting a whistle, having to fight back a spike of agony to complete the task. His answering bark never came. “Buck!”
“Ozzie?” Cadwyn called. “Mina? Jeremiah?”
“Buck!”
Cadwyn suddenly hushed her. It took a heartbeat for her to realize why. The narrow tunnel had been replaced by a wide hallway of brick and hanging lights. A few of the metal light fixtures swayed in an unfelt breeze, creating a slow, repetitive creak. They were alone.
“Do you know this place?” Basheba asked when she saw the horror on Cadwyn’s face.
“It’s the death shoot.”
“Say again?”
He cautiously stepped out into the middle of the hallway.
“Cadwyn?”
“It’s the tunnel once used to transport dead patients from Dalton Ridge to the crematorium.”
“Dalton Ridge,” Basheba mouthed, the name sparking a distant memory.
“It’s an abandoned insane asylum in Massachusetts,” Cadwyn replied numbly.
“Right. Dad and I went ghost hunting in there once.” She inched closer, studying his face closely. “How do you know this place by sight?”
“I know every inch of this building,” he replied. Recovering from his daze, he looked down at her with wide eyes. “This is where I kept Abraham for eight months.”
“I thought you were in a motel.”
His laugh was bitter and sharp. “Yeah. I kept a possessed guy in a generally public area.”
“The families seem to think that you did.”
“And you’re going to let it stay that way.”
Taken aback by the sharp edge in his voice, she took half a step back. “I keep your secrets, you keep mine.”
The promise seemed to soothe him somewhat. While the volatile anger seeped from his face, leaving him chastised and apologetic, he still trembled with pent up energy.
“Sorry.”
“I don’t need apologies,” she smiled. “I’d love some exposition, though.”
His laughter was short. “Abraham was losing the fight. It was just a matter of time before the demon took possession of his body. I needed somewhere safe, out of the way, where I could control who came near him. Dalton Ridge was just sitting there. Still stocked with gurneys and straitjackets and restraints. A building designed to keep people in. It seemed perfect.”
“You got him here by yourself?”
Cadwyn shrugged one shoulder and resumed his survey of the space. “All I needed was a wheelchair, some heavy narcotics, and the will to make it happen.”
“Katrina doesn’t have the power to actually transport us to Massachusetts,” Basheba said, trying to draw the conversation away from painful topics. “This has to be another trick. Maybe to get us to walk off a ledge or something.”
He gave a noncommittal grunt.
Biting her lip, she huffed. “I can’t just stay here. I need to find Buck.”
“Yeah, I figured you’d say that.” Turning to her, he looped the strap of his med kit over his head and stretched his arms wide, indicating their two options. “Hospital or crematorium?”
“Hospital.”
His hands fell a little bit.
“Hey, that’s just my kneejerk reaction,” she defended. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Cadwyn looked back and forth once more before he dropped his hands altogether. “It seems like we’re doomed whatever the choice.”
“That’s the spirit,” Basheba chirped.
Without a word, he stalked off down the hall, not realizing that he was forcing her to jog to keep up with his much longer stride. She didn’t call him on it. Just trotted alongside him, cursing her short stature and shrugging into her backpack. She tugged the straps until the pack was flush against her spine and pulled her hunting blade free from its sheath. Having the familiar weight in her hand helped her to feel centered. Alert and silent, they followed the hallway up into the belly of the dilapidated building.
From what she could recall, Dalton Ridge had been rather impressive in its day. A sprawling Victorian-style building of red brick and white trimmings. Three stories with random towers poking up to offer a fourth floor. Time and neglect had gutted it. What few walls that remained intact were covered in peeling wallpaper and spray paint. She read a few of the sentences that previous explorers had left behind. Most of them were meant to creep out anyone who followed; there were mentions of the devil and hints of enraged ghosts. Above the double doors that opened up to an examination area, ‘People taste like chicken’ was sprayed in red paint. She rolled her eyes as they passed under it.
“What cuts are you eating?” she mumbled.
Cadwyn turned around to look down at her, his brows knitted deep in thought.
“What?” she asked.
He continued to study her in silence, his lips slightly parted but silent. Basheba knew what he wanted to ask, why he hesitated. And she willed him to leave it alone, at least for now. A flash of movement made them both jerk around bringing their stalemate to an end.
“Did you see what that was?” she asked.
“Monty,” Cadwyn said, half-talking to her, half-calling to the retreating specter.
Sparing Basheba a glance, he sprinted forward. They had crossed the room and worked through a maze of hallways before he finally slowed enough for her to ask some follow-up questions. Their panted breaths rolled off of the cracked tiles that lined the room. Grimy bathtubs stood in long rows.
“You need to stop chasing ghosts, Cadwyn.”
She hooked one finger around the thick material that curved over the end of one tub, making the attached metal hooks
clatter against the porcelain.
“Hydrotherapy,” Cadwyn told her absently. “Although, they’re also useful for stopping patients from drowning themselves. Don’t touch that one!”
Basheba jerked her hand back from the third tub in the row. He shrugged almost apologetically.
“Doris is protective of that one.” He caught himself. “Although she’s not really here, is she?”
“You made friends with ghosts?”
“Not exactly friends,” he said, still paying more attention to their surroundings than her. “They needed someone to take care of them, not a playmate.”
Basheba studied him as they stalked around the room. He surveyed the area with quiet, professional confidence. Nothing close to the blind hysteria she had seen in the cave earlier. Because he’s looking for his patient, not his brother.
“You’ve spent most of your life in mental asylums,” she noted.
He turned to her. “I haven’t exactly done the math.”
“That wasn’t judgment in my voice,” she said. “It was awe.”
“Because of my poor life choices?” Cadwyn smirked.
Because you’ve dedicated your entire life to lost causes. “You never give up on people.”
They rounded the last tub and came to stand before each other.
“You can’t save everyone.”
Tipping his head to the side, he studied her closely. “I’m not trying to. But a little company can make even hell a lot nicer.”
“I should have been here to help you out.”
“You were two,” he noted with a smile.
“I was a little snake,” she shrugged. “I was born with enough venom to kill.”
A low tremor rattled through the walls. Hard enough to dislodge the fractured tiles, leaving them to shatter upon the floor. Cadwyn pushed in closer to Basheba’s side, one hand coming up to hover protectively over her back. She could see how hard he was struggling to keep the fear from his eyes. The room darkened. Mold and rot crept out from the doorway like a thousand searching fingers crawling toward them. Hands slithered through the splintered doorframe.
Flesh hung loosely from the bones, dragged further down by gravity as the limbs twitched across the ceiling. Basheba could hear its skin pop against the broken plaster. Putrid blood splattered against the floor, the dark lumps squirming with maggots. The stench of decay invaded the room before the creature had slithered its way inside. Abraham. Even half-eaten away, there was no mistaking the features that were echoed in Cadwyn. This is what a demon can do when set loose. A terror she had never felt festered within her bone marrow.
The living remains moved in broken twitches. Each abrupt motion sent a flurry of insects scattering, making its skin heave like a rolling tide. Cadwyn tensed and crowded closer to Basheba. She couldn’t tell if he was seeking comfort or trying to protect her. He never had to protect anyone from this, she realized. He was alone here with it. A decomposing sack with his brother’s face. Perched upon the ceiling like a squatting bug, Abraham twisted his head, the bones of his neck clicking loudly, to grin broadly at them.
“Welcome home, little brother.”
Basheba latched onto his hand and broke into a run. He staggered behind her, his attention fixed on the monster looming above them. Its teeth ripped free from its gums, and they scattered against the floor as it taunted them and offered a thousand promises to destroy him inside and out. Basheba tried to block the words out before they could construct images in her head. She couldn’t think of Cadwyn enduring any of it.
Suddenly, a hand had grabbed her, dragging her into a tub before she could stop it. Porcelain cracked against the side of her head. Her vision blurred. Sudden heat brought her back to her senses. She jerked up as steaming water sloshed around her, covered her, dragged her down. Far beyond the depths of the tub into a burning, blistering darkness. She gulped for breath but only found the scorching water. Cadwyn’s grip on her arm remained solid. She dug her nails in as she was sucked deeper still. Holding on even as her lungs burned, her skin blistered, and her blood began to boil within her veins. Katrina dragged her down, and Basheba took Cadwyn with her.
Chapter 16
A damp flick against her cheek made Mina’s eyes pop open. Buck grumbled a protest as he skittered away from her flailing hand but, when she refused to get up, he came back to lap at her again. Pain rattled along her bones as she pushed herself onto her hands and knees. Buck nuzzled her, urging her on until she rocked back onto her knees and took her first good look around. A cut in the lofty cave ceiling allowed a barb of moonlight to brighten the shadows. She knelt on a strip of sand nestled between two undulating walls of stone. Trailing her eyes up the uneven surface, she spotted a half dozen ledges that could have once been the tunnel they had been climbing through.
Buck whimpered again and bumped his wet nose insistently against the side of her neck. Pushing him away stirred her enough from her fixation to realize that they were alone. Hurriedly, she checked the sand for footprints. Nothing. Carefully studying the wall again, this time searching for a hint of where the others had ended up, she caught a small flicker of light. The sudden, grateful lurch of her heart left her dizzy. All warmth in her died when she heard Buck’s low growl.
The scruff on the back of his neck stood on end as he emitted another rumble. Heeding the warning, Mina scurried back. She was barely on her feet before her heels struck something and she was sent toppling onto her back. Her breath caught. Far above, the shifting glow grew larger, approaching the rim of the ledge. In her haste to get up, her feet kicked the object again. My bag. She lurched forward to snatch it up. Before her fingers could hook around the nearest strap, the sand bulged. A dozen tiny hands shot up from the unstable earth. Searching for her. Their nails twisting up in the tattered sleeves of her jacket.
Choking down her screams, she forced herself to surge forward again, pushing past them to desperately snatch up the strap. The hands dragged her down and would have taken her under the soil if it wasn’t for Buck. The Rottweiler swooped in, wide jaws easily snapping through tendon and bone. Severed limbs twitched upon the ground before turning back to charge at her again. Heart pounding, Mina flicked her gaze up. Voices had joined the approaching light. She almost froze upon hearing Whitney’s voice amongst them. Get away! Hide! Move!
Clenching her jaw, she slid the backpack toward her. Suddenly, the hands faltered. They spasmed once before slithering out like an oil slick, still undeniably there but no longer solid. She wrenched herself free of their now feeble grip, clutched the bag to her chest, and sprinted for the safety of the shadows, Buck at her heels.
Her blood thundered through her veins, weakening her knees until she half fell into the shadows that crowded against the base of the wall. The contents of her bag dug into her stomach as she clutched it. Buck’s black fur camouflaged him with the shadows, allowing him to venture back out a little and remain unseen from above. Fixated on the reforming limbs, he ignored her whispered pleas for him to come back, even after the hands thickened and latched onto his paws. His first savage growl echoed off of the walls.
The golden light swept down from above like a search beacon. Mina lunged forward, anticipating a fight to free the animal, only to find that the grasping hands collapsed in on themselves once more. Looping her arms around Buck’s neck, she dragged him back against the wall just as the light hit the sand. The beam trailed slowly back and forth before being joined by another. The combined glow washed over the sea of flailing limbs poking out from the dull bronze sand. They watched as the creature recreated itself, drawing in the airborne oil to return to solid flesh. Are they toying with me? Why don’t they just grab me already? The hands continued to squirm around her, a writhing swarm that never made contact, leaving dread and anxiety to eat away at her mind.
Smothering her whimpers against Buck’s scruff, she froze. The light ghosted through the canyon, inching closer to her feeble hiding place with every pass. She searched with them, both hopeful
and terrified that she’d catch sight of Jeremiah and the others. There were only ghostly limbs and sand. The voices above became a steady hum; melting together until it was impossible to tell how many humans stood above her. If they’re all human.
Mina jumped when Whitney’s shrill voice sliced through the other voices. A command was given and heeded. The lights lifted, and booming footsteps worked their way along the ledge, rattling the wall against her spine even as they grew distant. It was proof enough that Whitney had borrowed some extra demonic muscle from Katrina.
Prized hogs or workhorses. Basheba’s words echoed through her mind, lifting the shroud of mindless panic. Memories and observations clashed within her skull, birthing a new theory.
After her death, Katrina channeled her pride in her livestock into her cult, cultivating them over generations to better suit her purposes. Muscle or fat, they’re too big to move easily down here. Watching the golden light of the torches drift through the ebony light made her stomach drop. They know where Katrina’s corpse is, and they have an easy pathway to get to her.
Smothering her gasp, she looked around her again, desperate for one of the others to appear. I have to find them. A stronger thought exploded into the forefront of her mind. If they get to Katrina first, all of this was for nothing! She coiled in on herself, choking Buck and pulling her bag closer. Its contents rattled together at it slid along the sand. The ghostly hands reared like cobras but dissipated before they could clutch onto the material. Mina’s breath caught; her panic momentarily pushed aside by the possibilities that flooded her mind.
Experimentally, she tightened her grip on the bag and pushed it to the side. By the light from above, she watched the phenomenon repeat itself. The hands showed interest in the bag but none of them could make contact. Fingers latched onto her ankle. She bit down a scream as she whirled, already swinging the bag. The hand disappeared. They can’t touch the bag? With shaking fingers, she tore open the zipper and checked inside, half expecting to find some strange talisman amongst her belongings. But everything was as Ozzie had left it.