by Joshua Grant
--and abruptly pulled back from her viewpoint. Had she been seen? It was too soon to tell. She turned to the others, their stares intently focused on her.
“What is it? Are we in trouble?” Gabe asked, making no effort to mask the tremble in his voice.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “You two head upstairs. Get ready to bug out.”
The backstage area came equipped with a metallic spiral stairway that gave access to the second level. They’d be able to get out on the second floor balcony and to the doors there, the escape plan they had laid out the second they arrived in the sprawling theatre.
Aubrey spotted their visitor on the first floor. By all appearances, it was an old man sitting in the third row. But she knew full well that appearances on this ship weren’t always what they seemed. If it looked like a duck, and acted like a duck, it was a demon waiting to flay them alive. Still, she couldn’t just shoot every old person they came across. She had to be sure.
“What are you going to do?” Mac asked, concern budding in his voice. Touching, but now wasn’t the time.
“I’m going to go out there and see what’s what.” It sounded even crazier when she said it out loud, but it couldn’t be helped. If it was a survivor, great. They could certainly use a new face in their dwindling crowd. If it wasn’t--well, they couldn’t let it hang around until Julian got back. Besides, she was getting sick of sitting on her hands anyway and putting a bullet in one of these Watcher creatures (or whatever Gabe had called them) was as good a way to pass the time as any.
She saw the argument forming on both their faces. “And you two are going to cover me from up there,” she added before they could rattle them off. “So if that bastard so much as twitches, all three of us will put him down. Okay?”
“I don’t have a gun,” Gabe stated plainly, searching for some way to dissuade her.
“Yeah, but you and Mac make a pretty good firing team,” she countered. She knew it wasn’t very convincing. Hell, she wasn’t very convinced herself, but she wasn’t about to lose anyone else tonight. This had to be done.
At least Mac took the hint. Every second spent arguing here was a second that thing out there had to find them or call in its ugly friends. “Right kid. I could use someone to help steady my aim.”
Gabe looked doubtful, but managed a nod. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Just—“
“I’ll be right behind you,” Aubrey said quickly. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out if the kid argued. This plan wasn’t the best, just the least evil of their options, and she was getting pretty sick of least evil.
Luckily, that was enough to get Gabe moving, albeit reluctantly. The two made their way to the stairs and began ascending as quietly as possible, their soft footsteps clinking up into the gloom. Aubrey watched them for a second and then turned back to the curtain vestibule, squaring her shoulders in a vain attempt to find the courage she didn’t feel. Right, time for my one act. Here’s to hoping it’s not a tragedy. She stepped out into the brighter light of the main auditorium.
Aubrey was a microbe in the vast sea of stage that stretched out all around her, the polished wooden platform jutting into the first floor audience offering her a nice walkway where she didn’t have to hurdle over chairs or clamor for one of the four access aisles if this turned out to be her demon duck after all. At least that takes care of the escape. She turned her attention to the grainy silhouette of a man. If her audience of one noticed her strutting toward him, gun in hand, he didn’t show. He sat, straight backed, watching an invisible play that wasn’t happening with inattentive dead eyes.
Not a good sign.
Aubrey glanced at the second floor balcony, saw Gabe and Mac posting up near the railing’s edge. That at least gave her a little comfort. They were safe and she wasn’t entirely alone. She cleared her throat hesitantly.
“Not much of a show, right?” Her voice sounded infinitely small in the vast chamber. The old man stared back, his face slack and expressionless. Maybe he had a heart attack? He looked upwards of seventy. Yeah, survived a week of hell only to plunk down here and die. Aubrey’s own heart sped up. She slid her finger into the trigger guard. This is wrong. Aubrey what are you doing?
“Are—are you hurt?”
The man moved, his mostly bald head craning up to the left, to where Mac and Gabe perched. Aubrey’s stomach twisted tighter, her finger sweating on the trigger.
“Hey, answer me or I swear to God—“
The man suddenly rose from his seat, slowly, feebly, and Aubrey levelled her pistol at him. His face was devoid of any emotion. He was quiet, cold. Could have been a stroke, or a bad case of shock, or—
Hard fear pressed against Aubrey alerting her to the danger she had just put herself in. The man stared at her—and was changing, so fast and so violently she couldn’t organize her thoughts to squeeze off a shot, her racing brain taking snapshots of the horror that was unfolding before her, burning them into her retinas forever.
The old man seemed to be rising on a hydraulic platform, Aubrey quickly realizing he was growing, elongating, flesh and bone breaking. He grew as she stared, becoming a giant, an impossible colossus towering at least five feet over her head. The man’s clothes ripped and shredded, falling off him like molted skin. His once frail limbs expanded, muscle magically building beneath the surface in a mesmerizing dance, becoming tree trunks. Long claws sliced their way out of the meaty clubs that served as its hands, a kitchen knife set where fingers used to be.
Aubrey traced her way up its bodybuilder torso, passing over the unisex bulge where genitals should have been (a minor miracle for her already overtaxed sanity), and settled on its grizzly face. Still that of the old man, it stared at her now, but something was happening to it. The lips began to pull back, not like it was opening its mouth, but like its mouth was opening around it. The wrinkles in the face smoothed as its skin retracted, stretching, tearing. The yawning gap that was its mouth exposed sharp yellowing teeth and pink meaty gums, but the hole continued to grow, to stretch, sliding wetly up past the nose, now a cartilaginous damp hole. Finally it slid up past the eyes and over its crest of glistening skull, disappearing down the back like a serial killer’s hoodie.
Scooby Doo’s gang had removed its mask, but only now did those meddling kids realize this one was really a monster. Its red bloody face was trapped in a permanent death grin, its smile fixed on her but lacking all good humor. At some point in the grotesque transition its eyes had glazed over, becoming milky and cataracted. Still, it fixated on her, watching her with the ghostly dead orbs. She heard the soft hiss of its breaths escaping the hole of its nose and the light anticipatory click of its walrus tusk claws, its eerie silence somehow more terrifying than any roar could have been.
That was enough to get her pistol firing. Bam-bam! A dark wet hole opened up in its chest, spewing opaque fluid that was in no sane realm blood. Another shattered two of its badly rotted teeth. Neither seemed to phase it. It began advancing, its walk slow and sinuous as it stepped completely over a row of chairs. Aubrey fired a third shot, catching it in the shoulder but still it came, a gangrenous mountain bearing down.
God, it’s not stopping!
The report of a machine gun sang out from above. Dark ichor sprayed from the giant’s shoulders. It twitched with each impact, but it didn’t stop, hardly slowed even. It stepped over the front row bringing it to the stage’s edge. Aubrey fired her fourth bullet, a clean headshot, but this thing’s thick skull must have been stronger than titanium. The lead round bounced off leaving only surface damage. What if it was like Sasha? She was fresh out of fiery cocktails to serve up.
“Get out of there!” Gabe called from above.
Yeah, no shit!
She backed slowly toward the open curtain firing as she went. The spiral staircase was just backstage. She had to get there, climb to the others, and get the hell out of here! The giant raised a muscular foot, stepping up onto the stage, the wood groaning under its immense weight. As its fu
ll mass curled back into standing, Aubrey could see just how screwed she was. The thing was a nightmare Goliath and she was no David. Besides, the rock against the head trick didn’t work this time. She had to think of something, think fast!
Run! Just run! she decided. She was in half swivel when the giant dipped its shoulders—
--and was suddenly on top of her!
Shit! Holy shit! Instinct took over. Aubrey flung herself sideways, narrowly dodging the thing’s samurai sword hands that would have sliced her to ribbons if she had been a second slower.
Schlick!
The claws hissed through the air as the giant thundered past her, carried on a tidal wave of momentum. The smell of rotting fish bombarded her in its wake as she hit the hard wood of the stage.
It can run! The fucking geriatric bodybuilder can run!
Not good news. Even worse if she stayed lying here any longer. She was up on her knees and then her feet in a breath. The giant had managed to slow and stop before it slammed through the back wall. It was rotating, dead eyes searching, searching for her! She’d never make it up the spiral staircase and out of range of its ghastly claws in time. She’d have to retreat back out into the audience chamber, find some other way, pray she was fast enough if it barreled after her.
How many bullets did she have? Five, maybe six? Not enough. What did it matter anyway? A bazooka wouldn’t be enough to take down this thing.
Just get your ass moving Aubrey! Sound advice from her flight instincts. She rotated to run—
--and noticed something. The giant was turning as well, its thunderous footsteps shaking the heavy set walls that dangled from an overhead gurney, causing them to sway a little against their cables. In normal hours, the crane was used to lower and raise set pieces for quick scene changes. The current set that was loaded never got to make its debut, instead hanging lifelessly above the backstage area.
A plan began forming in Aubrey’s mind even amongst the panic, a shitty plan but she’d take it. She turned and darted out for the audience. She heard the giant behind her bellow its rage, a deep, strangled wail primal, ancient and deadly. It vibrated her teeth and shook its way under her skin, pummeling her heart, her pace quickening on its own, her feet slapping against floorboards.
Thud--thud.
The giant must have almost been turned around by now. Wouldn’t be long til it—
Thud--thud-thud-thud! Its massive feet hammered the ground as it loped after her, her heart racing in a panic she felt in her fingertips. Mac and Gabe were screaming something but she didn’t have time to listen. She had to get off the stage and into the audience before the giant reached her.
Which wouldn’t be long if the tremors in the floor were any indication. Aubrey was suddenly assaulted with a gut wrenching stench like three day old urine poured warmly into her nostrils accompanying the shadow pouring over her. The edge of the stage wasn’t far. She leapt.
She had no idea if she would make it in time. She just pressed off with all the strength of her legs and prayed the giant’s only gear was forward. She seemed to hang in the air for a lifetime praying she was fast enough, knowing too well she probably wasn’t, waiting for the inevitable burst of pain that would penetrate her back. Just be quick. Please just be quick.
But her feet hit the ground hard, ankles screaming out in pain. She didn’t stop to nurse them. Hell, she welcomed the pain. It confirmed that she was still alive, that she still had a chance. She ran immediately to the left, the giant crashing past her, tearing into red velvet chairs with its enormous claws like they were nothing. She had escaped death, just barely, but the giant was recovering quickly.
Her ears, still ringing from the giant’s impossible death cry, finally filtered sound normally again.
“Aubrey, move!”
The voice didn’t come from Gabe or Mac. Julian!? She saw him in the doorway past the giant. He was brandishing a heavy assault shotgun and aiming it her way. The giant rose up from its haunches, fluff and springs scattering out around it. Julian wanted to shoot but she was in the blast range.
No time to get clear!
“Just do it!” she cried, the giant’s stance now fully recovered.
Julian clenched his jaw visibly, weighing his options, but came to the same conclusion she did. They were both dead in a second if he did nothing. The risk of friendly fire paled in comparison to the bloodbath the giant would bring.
BOOM!
A miniature explosion erupted from the muzzle of the shotgun. Aubrey flinched, but by some miracle of the same fate that hadn’t been kind to her lately, the buckshot hit its intended mark. The giant actually rocked back a step, a large meaty gash forming in its side. It let out an even more spiteful roar, this time focused on its new attacker. Julian pumped the shotgun, preparing to fire again. The giant dipped its linebacker shoulders.
“Julian!”
The rest of Aubrey’s warning never made it out. The giant was already freight-training across the room leaving a tornado trail of chairs in its wake. Aubrey only caught a glimpse of Julian’s alarmed face before he launched himself sideways behind one of the support columns that held the second floor balcony.
WHAM!
The giant’s clawed fist bit into the pillar, a network of cracks forming around it. It yanked at the arm, trying to pull it free, its massive hand wedged in the stone. Aubrey had to do something quick.
“Hey, over here!” She took aim at its bloody head and opened fire, mentally counting the shots. One. Two. The bullets pinged off its face and cheek, its head bobbing slightly with each one. She hoped it would be enough. Three. The giant wrenched its arm free, bits of marble crumbling out with it. It still ignored her. Shotgun or no, Julian was in trouble.
Four—come on! The giant began to sidle around the pillar, and Aubrey saw it, the ragged, bleeding hole in its side. She lowered her aim. Steadied. Five!
The bullet hit its target and the giant howled in pain. Yes!
Her jubilation was instantly obliterated as the giant turned its horrible gaze on her. What’s more, she had used more ammo than she intended. She only had one chance to pull off her plan, if that.
She turned and vaulted back onto the stage as the giant picked up speed behind her. Hurry! It’s right there! She booked it for the backstage area to the tune of machine gun fire and shotgun blasts. Hopefully they’d slow it down, give her enough time to do—
Do—do what? Her plan that had seemed so solid just a moment before now seemed more farfetched than landing on Saturn. And five hundred times more risky.
She reached the back wall. Dead end. There was nowhere left to run. She turned and searched for her objective, found it near the manual curtain pulley, a small set of wires plugged into a complicated looking apparatus. She saw the titan of death rapidly closing in on her too, closer than she expected. Stay focused!
She raised her shaky gun, clasped it with both hands to steady it. The giant bellowed, blowing halfway across the stage in the blink of an eye. Almost. With each footfall the giant covered a meter, quickly ebbing away at the barrier of safety between them. Almost. Her elbows quivered. Please don’t miss! The giant raised its claws to strike. Now!
Aubrey more felt the gun go off than heard it, a heavy tug against her jellying arms. Then motion to her right in the vicinity of the killer giant. Her bullet tore through the gears and wires of the gurney apparatus, severing the safety cable anchoring the set above. It came crashing down on the giant, a five-hundred pound bomb from which no monster would be walking away from.
WA-OOOM!
The horrible image of the giant was swallowed under what looked like the front of a mid-city townhome, black blood and splintered stage shooting out from all sides. Aubrey may not have been David, but she made a pretty damn good Dorothy.
She waited for the dust to clear, waited to see if she was safe, and finally felt the paralysis melting from her. The giant was nowhere to be seen, just wrenched metal and chipped wood. Tentatively, she moved around the set
, giving it a wide berth, just in case. She didn’t trust her luck today, even if she was two-nothing in the monster slaying business. She found her way back into the audience chamber, so relieved to see Julian she wanted to collapse. He had hopped up onstage and was moving quickly to join her—
--relief flooding his face. He was just as happy to see her, maybe even more so. Aubrey blinked, surprised at the warmth trickling back into her chest melting the cold that this place had put there. It was a strange thing, becoming so close to someone she hardly knew, had only known for a handful of hours. Stranger still that just a few hours ago she was sure she couldn’t trust him. Now here she was, staring at a man so happy to see her it actually made her stomach flutter, a man who didn’t cut and run when she needed him. A man who looks so damned good even when he’s covered in grime.
“Tell me you’ve brought some good news,” she said, surprised even more to find that she was blushing a little.
“For once, yes,” he said hopeful. Aubrey smiled, bigger than she had all night. But his expression darkened, hers darkening right along with it, the nice moment gone as quickly as it came. “We’ve also got a problem.”
Tell me something I don’t know. Aubrey opened her month to speak, to ask what else could have possibly gone wrong—
--but was cut off by the sound of screeching metal! Something was trying to break free from the crushing set right behind her, and by the sounds of it, it was only seconds away from succeeding!
Chapter 24
Deck 5, Down in Front Theatre
“Move!”
Julian was quickly trying to fumble more shells into the shotgun. One slid through his sweaty fingers as he pried it from the side satchel, clattering as it dropped and rolled across the stage. He cursed, but there was no time to retrieve the precious projectile. The massive set reared up, rocking as a lump of pure muscle appeared underneath it.
Aubrey was already past him, thankfully clear this time. Julian pumped the shotgun. How many slugs were in there? He couldn’t be sure. There wasn’t time to add more in any case. He’d have to hope what he had would be enough. His machine gun still dangled at his side but from the look of things, he might as well shoot spitballs at the towering beast.