by Michael Bray
“We should try for it.”
Everyone looked at Bernard, who had regained enough of his composure to find his voice. He looked at the group, who were now staring at him and even found it in himself to give the smallest flicker of an arrogant smile.
“I mean, what other choices are there? It’s either take our chances down there or wait here to be killed. And I for one have a hell of a lot I want to live for.”
Nobody said anything, and for a few seconds, they stood and listened to the screams and brittle tearing sounds from the adjoining room. Donald took his wife by the hand and stepped forward.
“We should get moving. We don’t have time to stand around here and think about it.”
“I don’t think I can do it,” Leena said.
She somehow managed a pained, haunted smile. “I don’t think I can. I’m sorry.”
Helen reached out and took her hand. “Come on honey, we can do this together. You just keep a hold of my hand, and everything will be all right.”
The older woman smiled as calmly as she could manage, and although Leena didn’t say anything, she nodded her head.
“Okay. Let’s go,” Garrett said, hurrying to the door.
Lee was still standing with his back to the edge of the doorframe, peering down the steps.
“I take it the loading bay is out?”
Garrett nodded. “It’s not happening. Any movement down there?”
“Not a thing, just that bloody awful smell. How do you want to do this?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, do we go slow and quiet, or run for it?”
“If we can get out of here and keep under the radar, then I’m happy with that,” Garrett said. “Besides, I’m sure Nicu and his family will be out there looking for us. You in particular, after what happened with Bo. I don’t think it will take too long for them to realize we have slipped away.”
“Aye. Best get moving then.”
Lee went first, followed by Bernard then the three-person chain of Donald, Leena, and Helen, who were all holding hands. Cody came next with Garrett at the rear. The staircase was narrow, and the slick walls were black with damp. Nobody spoke. Instead, the group concentrated on descending and straining their ears for the slightest noise that might alert them to any potential surprises.
After what felt like an eternity, they reached the sub-basement, which was a rectangular concrete room filled with stacked crates of canned goods and packages of coffee and pasta. The wall furthest from them was dominated by two large silver fronted walk in freezers. To the right, the room extended and there was another door that looked to lead to a small single windowed office. All of this was inconsequential, however, as their attention was drawn to the huge hole in the floor. The concrete had been broken up and removed, and from the bare earth below a roughly hewn staircase was visible. Frightened eyes looked at each other and then came to rest on Garrett. He peered down into the opaque emptiness and wrinkled his nose at the horrific, rotten stench that drifted from there.
“I can’t do it. Not down there, no way.” Leena was shaking and stared pleadingly at Garrett. Helen squeezed her hand and tried her best to comfort her, but she too was afraid.
“Lee, check that office door,” Garrett said softly. “Cody, open those fridges. See if there’s anything in there we can use as a weapon.
Both men went to their respective tasks without question. Lee rattled the door handle to the office.
“Locked,” he said, as he peered through the small window. “No way out that way.”
Garrett turned towards Cody, who was standing at the open freezer door. Garrett and Donald saw his expression and shared a troubled look.
“Wait here,” Garrett said to the group, crossing the room to stand beside Cody, who was staring into the freezer.
There were things in there. Things that used to be people, humans like everyone else. Now they were just meat. Row upon row of carcasses hanging from huge, stainless steel hooks. Many were only partial remains and Garrett again felt the hysterical urge to laugh bubbling up inside him. He cast his eyes over the… Stock? Goods? Remains? He couldn’t find the word. Perhaps, there wasn’t one that would do justice to the things he could see.
An arm.
A leg.
A skinned, half ribcage.
A limbless torso.
Those things were bad enough, but nowhere near as awful to see as the bodies that were complete. Disemboweled and hanging, eyes open and covered in a light dusting of ice, mouths gaping in a frozen, never ending scream. Garrett had a bizarre idea he was looking into the future, the future of his group. He felt his stomach roll, jump and roll again and knew he was going to let out that giggle—or perhaps it was a scream after all— that rolled around in there. He knew how it would sound. It would be shrill and intense and he knew its arrival would see the end of any rational thought or sanity left within him. He had seen enough— more than enough— but he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Even if he could it wouldn’t matter. Because the image of those dismembered, swaying corpses was one that would stay with him for the rest of his life, no matter how long or short it would go on to be.
“Cody,” whispered Garrett.
Cody didn’t respond. He stared, doing the best he could to cope, process and hang on to his sanity.
“CODY,” Garrett repeated more firmly. He looked at Garrett, and for a moment, they were mirror reflections, each sharing in the other’s horror.
“Close the door. Come on,” Garrett said as he lay a reassuring, shaking hand on Cody’s shoulder.
“What is it, what’s in there, fella?” asked Lee from the other side of the room.
Garrett shook his head, unable to find any words that would even begin to explain.
“Son, what is it?” Donald said, starting towards them.
“No,” Garrett said, perhaps a little too sharply. He softly closed the freezer door. “Nobody should have to see that.”
Silence.
Garrett looked at the group and wondered if any of them knew how grave their situation was. He supposed it might be a blessing of sorts that they didn’t.
“Okay then,” Bernard said, clapping his hands together. “We either go down, or we go back. Fifty-fifty choice people.”
Garrett noted how— much to his disdain— Bernard seemed to have a much better grip on himself now, and if anything actually seemed to be the most composed of them all.
“We can’t go back. That’s not an option,” Garrett heard himself say from some distant place.
“Okay then. Down it is,” Bernard shot back sharply, Keeping eye contact with Garrett and even flicking that arrogant smile in his direction.
“I CAN’T!” Leena wailed, breaking into huge, shaking sobs. Helen held her close and stroked her hair, then looked to Garrett with eyes that were just as afraid.
“I agree. I’m not prepared to go down there. Nothing good can come of it.” She shook her head and looked at Donald, who nodded in agreement.
“Well somebody needs to go down there and see if it’s safe!” snapped Bernard, his lip twitching as he glared at the group.
“Don’t let us stop you, arsehole,” Lee muttered.
“What about you, big man? Bernard shot back. You’re the one with the weapon after all.”
Bernard’s tone was mocking, and he looked at Lee with a sly, oozing smile. “What’s the matter? Not so brave now, are you? Pathetic.”
Lee stepped towards Bernard, who took a compensatory step back, and snorted down his nose.
“What? Are you going to resort to violence again? Is that the only response you have?”
“Don’t push me, you prick!”
“Oh, please.” Bernard sneered, shaking his head. “You’re brave enough waving that weapon around but how much courage do you have when it matters?”
“That’s enough!” Garrett snapped. Bernard paid him no attention. He was glaring at Lee with a secretive, snake-like smile.
“You don’t understand
. I have a daughter…” Lee mumbled.
“Oh, and I can only imagine how proud she is of her gutless excuse for a father.”
Before Garrett could intervene, Lee was pointing the gun at Bernard’s head.
“Tell you what, fella,” Lee said, flashing a nervous half smile. “Why don’t you do the honors for the rest of us and go down there and take a look?”
Bernard held his hands up, but he was still smiling and made no effort to move.
“Lee, take it easy,” Garrett warned, unable to keep his eyes off Bernard, who looked completely unconcerned.
“Stay out of this, fella. This is between him and me.”
“Is it?” Bernard asked playfully, tilting his head to one side. “Is it about the two of us or is it about you, and the fact that despite the tattoos and the cliché biker getup, you’re a failure, a waster. A god-damn loser, drifter just like every other drain on society, on hard working people like me.”
“You shut your mouth!” Lee roared, aiming the gun with much more intent at Bernard’s face.
“Lee, please...”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Garrett,” Bernard smiled. “He doesn’t have the fortitude to pull the trigger. I’d bet my life on it.”
“I’m warning you!” Lee said, his hand shaking as he aimed the weapon. Bernard only smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
“Warn as much as you like.” He sighed. “We both know you won’t pull the trigger.”
“Lee, just relax and put the gun down, please,” Garrett said softly, trying to diffuse the situation.
“This prick is asking for it! He’s been asking for it all fuckin’ night!”
Lee glared at Bernard, who watched on in quiet amusement, seemingly oblivious to the tiny thread by which his life was hanging.
“Lee, come on. Give me the gun. Think of your daughter.”
Garrett was sure his words went unheard, and regardless of them, Lee was going to do it. Garrett held his breath, expecting at any time he would see Bernard’s smug face explode in a mist of blood and bone.
“Yes. Think about your daughter. Do as your fearless leader tells you,” Bernard taunted, stepping forwards and pressing his forehead to the barrel of the gun.
Garrett and the others looked on in disbelief. It was obvious by now Bernard was crazy. He must be because even though Lee was just a half-pound of pressure away from ending his life, Bernard had somehow managed a wide, Cheshire cat grin.
“We can’t stand here all day,” Bernard taunted. “Either do it or don’t. Just make the decision so we can move on.”
Lee gritted his teeth and glared at Bernard.
“Fuck you.”
Garrett knew Bernard had pushed things too far and was about to pay for it with his life. Lee pressed the gun harder into Bernard’s forehead and held his breath, then exhaled deeply and lowered the gun.
“Sonofabitch” he grunted, handing the gun to Garrett.
Everyone visibly relaxed, and whatever spell there was, had been broken.
That was a close one.
The thought had entered Garrett’s mind as he turned towards Donald to hand him the gun for safekeeping when there was an almighty roar of gunfire. Garrett spun back around, at first sure the weapon had somehow gone off in his hand. As he began to understand what had happened, it played out in a series of snapshots in his brain.
Bernard standing, feet apart, arms straight, in the trained pose of a man who is both familiar and comfortable with shooting weapons.
The black pistol that had been holstered in his jacket held confidently in his hands, a thin wisp of smoke coming from the barrel.
Lee’s eyes rolling back into what remained of his skull, the entry hole visible just above the right eye; the bullet's exit painted in sharp ruby red on the wall behind him.
Leena’s piercing scream, and then the smell.
The smell of sulfur. The smell of smoke and burning blood.
Then there was Bernard. His face twisted into a horrific, twitching cheeked rictus of defiance, the grin of a man who has lost his sanity, a man who is desperate enough to do anything to save his own skin.
The entire scene lasted only seconds. They watched as Lee fell to the ground, the little that remained of the back of his skull hitting the concrete with a thick wet slapping sound that brought the recently averted nausea flooding back. The rest of the group looked on in silence, unsure how to react to the unexpected turn of events. They looked from Lee to Bernard. Lee to Bernard again. Still trying to process, still trying to understand.
Garrett would have bet his life there would be screams, mass panic, and chaos. Instead, everyone stayed where they were. Everyone looked at Bernard with open-mouthed surprise as if he had just performed some incredible magic trick, or given some profound statement that required a moment to just stand back and consider. In a way he had, because in the space of a few short hours, Bernard had gone from irritating, stubborn stranger to frightened survivor, to murderer. Bernard was still smiling as he looked at Garrett.
“Hand over the weapon please, Mr. Garrett,” he said calmly.
Garrett looked at the gun held loosely by the barrel in his hand. He was still trying to come to terms with what he had seen when he was suddenly eye to eye with Bernard’s own gun.
“You were armed... all this time, you were armed…” Garrett muttered.
“Don’t make me ask you again, please.”
Garrett glanced at the shocked and frightened faces of the group, then at Lee, a small curl of blue smoke seeping up out of the entry wound above his eye. Then at Bernard. Bernard who was wild-eyed and desperate and who would have no issue with putting a matching hole in Garrett or indeed any one of them. Seeing no other choice, he numbly held out the weapon to Bernard, who took it and expertly ejected the magazine, kicked it across the floor then tucked the unloaded gun into the waistband of his pants.
“Thank you,” Bernard said softly. He then motioned towards the bare earth staircase in the floor and smiled at Garrett. “Now, go down there and find a way out of here, please.”
Garrett moved cautiously to the top of the steps, trying his best to ignore both the pungent odor from below, and the unseeing eye of Bernard’s gun, which was trained on him.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, he thought to himself as he looked at Bernard, hoping to see even a shred of humanity that he could appeal to, but his eyes were blank and Garrett knew reason was no longer an option.
“Look, you don’t have to do this. We’re not the enemy. We need to stick together. If we—”
“No, Mr. Garrett, no more talking. We’ve wasted enough time listening to you already. Now we’re going to do things my way.”
“Bernard, please…”
“Go NOW, Mr. Garrett. I won’t ask you again.”
“Why are you doing this? We’re on the same fucking side!” Garrett spat.
“Don’t preach to me!” Bernard snarled. “If I hadn’t found you upstairs, then you would have left me to be killed by those… those things.”
Bernard pointed at Garrett, and tiny flecks of spittle shot out of his mouth as he spoke.
“Well, let me tell you something. Bernard Winthorpe does not lose. Especially to the likes of you. Now are you going to do as I ask or do I have to shoot somebody else?”
“No. No, I’ll go. Just…relax, okay?”
Garrett crossed to the first uneven dirt step and peered into the darkness. It was inky and pure. The bare earth walls were moist and somewhere below him; he could hear a steady, repetitive dripping. He took another tentative step and cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the rest of the group. He forced himself not to look at Lee’s body, and then he turned back to the task ahead and took another step down.
“Oh, Mr. Garrett,” Bernard said with a wicked smile. “If you do find a way out, and have any ideas about taking the selfish route…”
He held the gun so Garrett could see it, and then rolled his eyes in the direction of the group.
> “Message received, you son of a bitch.”
“Good. Now go.”
He stood there frozen, unsure if he would be able to will his body to move him down into the darkness below, but something in him told him that Bernard would have no hesitation in killing again, and he was likely the next target. With that in mind, he took a last look around the room and descended into the darkness.
Endgame
The wait for Garrett’s return felt painfully slow, but in reality, was less than ten minutes. They heard him first, his rough breathing heralding his arrival. He scrambled back up the steps, dirty and exhausted, screwing his eyes closed against the light.
“I think I found a way out.” He panted.
“What’s it like down there, son?” Donald asked, subconsciously pulling Helen close.
“It’s like nothing I can describe,” Garrett said, shaking his head.
“Did you see anyone else down there?”
It was Bernard. He was crouched by the hole, his eyes burning into Garrett’s brain. He forced himself to meet Bernard’s gaze.
“I didn’t see anyone, and I sure as hell didn’t go calling out to see if anyone answered. Just hurry up and keep quiet, and we can get the hell out of here.”
Bernard seemed convinced, and nodded slowly, a half-smile still etched onto his lips.
“Then let’s go. But remember this. If you’re deceiving me… I’ll put a bullet in you. And that’s a promise.”
“I get it, Bernard,” Garrett said with a dejected sigh. “You win. I lose. I don’t care. I just want to get the hell out of here and back to my normal life. Now are you coming or not?”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He turned and trudged back down the steps and stopped at the bottom. The rest of the group followed, eying Bernard cautiously as they passed. He watched them go by, keeping the gun trained on them as he joined the back of the line.
The bottom of the steps led to a long, uneven corridor carved out of the dirt which descended on a gentle downhill gradient. It was too short to stand upright in, and the group shuffled along hunched over and in silence, feeling their way across the rough walls. Garrett led them down, trying to ignore the increasingly foul stench as they went deeper.