For Cam’s benefit, Daniel slowed his pace. It was against his better judgment but he didn’t want her to fall a second time. If she did it would be the end of the road for the both of them. Or maybe just her, depending on how he played it.
“Hurry,” he whispered urgently, with his heart trapped in his stomach. “Come on!”
Cameron pulled her hand free from Daniel’s grasp and stopped running. “Wait,” she said. “Oh God wait a minute, please!”
Before Daniel had a chance to protest she put both of her hands on her knees, opened her throat, and her mouth, and vomited. Legs wobbled and hands quivered. Some of the discharge splashed onto her shoes and pants. Some of it made its way into her hair.
Daniel watched the sickness happen. It wasn’t pretty, but it was better then the other event, which he looked at next:
The creature was eating Roger’s remains, which wasn’t much: two legs, a groin and part of a ribcage. It wasn’t an act of violence; Roger was a meal. Whether that was better or worse, Daniel did not know.
Watching Cameron be sick was less disturbing.
And what about Patrick? He wondered. Am I just going to leave him here? Is that the plan?
The first beads of sweat appeared on Daniel’s temple and a wave of helplessness engulfed him. This was bad, so very, very, bad. Pat was about to be eaten alive. He was about to die.
Daniel shook his head, snapping the daze.
He had to be optimistic, not pessimistic. That was the key to everything. Optimism. Confidence. Intelligence. There was still a hope if he demanded it, which is what he would have to do. Demand it.
All is not lost. I can escape this. I can survive.
Yes, but what about Patrick? And what about Cam? Will they survive? Or is it time to look out for number one?
The ladder was close, less than fifteen feet from where he stood.
Cameron was sick again. Behind her, the beast snatched another bite. A leg fell to the ground, splashing in blood.
Daniel could see Patrick. He was alive, trapped beneath the beast.
He couldn’t wait any longer. Waiting, Dan firmly believed, was suicide. And he waited long enough already, perhaps too long.
He grabbed Cameron by the hair and pulled her towards the ladder. He wasn’t nice about it. His fingers closed into a fist and he pulled her as hard as he could manage. In a different situation he would have earned a punch in the mouth and a trip to court.
“COME ON!” he screamed. And it was a scream. He sounded like a siren, or like a scream queen in a movie. He had never sounded like that before. “GODDAMN IT! WE’VE GOT TO MOVE OR WE’RE GOING TO DIE!”
He pulled her again.
Now Cameron screamed.
She screamed in pain, but getting her hair pulled was the least of her worries. This pain was nothing compared to what was coming. She needed to get her ass in gear. Daniel knew it and she knew it too. She stumbled another foot or two, falling to one knee while she slapped his hand away. She felt her stomach churn; it continued working against her. She was going to be sick again.
Daniel looked at the monster, then Pat, and then he stepped away.
Enough, he thought. Something inside him changed.
“I have to go, Cameron,” he said panting, with a voice that seemed distant. “I’m sorry.” His bottom lip trembled. A drop of sweat rolled along his cheekbone. He wasn’t screaming. Not now. That time had passed; his voice was practically a whisper.
He was leaving her.
She was going to die.
Daniel didn’t want Cameron or Pat to be ripped into pieces by that thing––whatever it was––but it was going to happen. He didn’t have time for this, for her, for them. Cameron was going to get them both killed if he let things continue this way; he understood that now.
There was no saving this girl.
This stranger, he reminded himself. I can’t get myself killed over somebody I met an hour ago. It’s not fair to me, or my wife.
Maybe Cameron didn’t want to be saved. It was a possibility. Or maybe she did. Live another day; die another day. It didn’t matter now. She was going to give up the ghost right here in the basement––or cellar, or bomb shelter, if that’s what it was. He couldn’t change her fate. He couldn’t change anything.
Daniel turned away from Cameron.
“Wait,” she begged. She picked herself up and stumbled towards him, coughing and spitting. She reached out with unsteady fingers.
“We’ve got to go Cameron,” he said. And with that, he made for the ladder. And somewhere behind him, the creature shifted its weight and shuffled its legs.
And Patrick screamed.
19
William and Beth entered the basement just as Daniel began to climb. They didn’t hear the screams. They didn’t hear anything.
But Hellboy did.
Hellboy heard everything, sensed everything. He didn’t want to leave the main floor of the house and wander down those thirteen steps. He didn’t like the smell that was coming from the basement. Smelled like blood, some type of predator, possibly a wolf. The scent made him nervous, made him scared, made him growl.
Beneath his breath, Hellboy released a pair of protest barks. He snapped his teeth. Not once, but twice. Then he paced back and forth at the top of the staircase. Eventually, he made his way down a few stairs, followed by a few more. He sniffed the railing and lowered his tail, holding it tight against his legs.
Beth stood in the center of the empty room with a shit-eating grin creeping across her face. She said, “Wow. What wonderful friends you have here, Will. These people are amazing.”
William issued Beth a lengthy light-hearted scowl. “Very funny.”
“Thank you.” Beth gave a little curtsy and kicked a chunk of drywall. She hadn’t noticed the hole in the floor. It was easy to miss with the entire basement in shambles. “Looks like they’ve been doing some renovating,” she said more seriously.
“Yes, it looks that way. Maybe they went into the backyard for a smoke. Wanna go check?”
“Yeah, I guess. There’s no point in being down here.”
Just then, as Beth was speaking, Hellboy came down the last few stairs. He made his way across the basement and stood at the edge of the hole, clearly upset, looking down, growling louder now than before. Very uncharacteristically, he began barking and flaunting his teeth.
“What is that thing?” Beth asked with a nod, referring to the hole in the floor.
“Not sure. Looks like a hole. Maybe there’s a sub-floor?” William couldn’t help thinking that something strange was happening here. Was there a rodent near by, or a fox? If so, that would explain a lot. Hellboy hated wild animals. Always had.
Will made his way to the opening and stood beside his dog, looking down with one hand curled in a fist. “Oh my,” he said. Surprise washed his face clean. “What in the world is going on?”
20
Daniel heard something: a dog perhaps, a dog barking. He didn’t know for sure what he heard; he didn’t own a dog. Had one when he was a kid but that was a long while ago. The dog, Sputnik was her name, had been hit by a car back when Christmas meant toys, girls were yucky, and parents knew everything in the whole wide world. (A truck, he reminded himself. Damn thing got smucked by a truck, not a car. You were there, remember? Sputnik was squished on a hot summer day by a full-sized transport truck. The streak of blood stretched thirty feet.)
Dan didn’t want to think about it.
He climbed, with arms and legs moving at a rate that would have made his father proud, God rest his soul. His heart raced inside his chest. His fingers throbbed, still sore from renovating. He didn’t notice the pain in his fingers, not yet. Not while he was climbing. His mind was elsewhere: on Patrick and Cameron, on survival, on moving up the ladder as fast as he could and escaping the monster below.
He made his way past the work light, which hung by the extension cables like some ridiculous science experiment designed by children. He heard the so
und again, the sound of the dog. A dog was barking, he was sure of it.
Slowing his pace, he looked up.
People were looking down at him, two of them. And there was a dog. Good, good. He wasn’t going crazy, not yet anyhow. And that was a very promising sign, all things considered.
The ladder shook in his hands.
Oh shit, he thought. I’m a dead man now. That goddamn thing is climbing the ladder, coming to get me, coming to chew me into paste.
He slowed his pace another notch and looked down.
The glare from the work light made his eyes squint. The monster wasn’t shaking the ladder. It was Cameron. Thank heaven. He was glad it wasn’t the monster, and glad to see that Cam was all right. He was worried, figured she was a goner too––like Roger, like Patrick.
No, he thought. That’s not fair. I don’t know if Pat is a goner. That thing trapped him, yes, that’s a fact. But I didn’t see him getting killed. He could still be alive. He could still be okay.
Daniel kept climbing. The ladder kept shaking.
He could feel the sweat on his skin, his shirt clinging to his chest. The air was getting warmer now, and with the energy he was expelling he found it hard to breathe. This level of exercise was unexpected after working all day and sinking several beers. But like it or not, he was getting a workout, a big one.
At the halfway point he stopped climbing and he looked over his shoulder. The creature was nowhere to be seen. Cameron was alone and climbing, but moving very slowly. Her lack of speed made him want to strangle her. The fact that she was okay made him want to kiss her.
He thought about Patrick again.
Pat needed help.
Daniel took a deep breath and tried to yell down; the words became snagged in his throat. He put a hand on his chest and tried again: “HURRY UP CAMERON!”
Overhead the dog kept barking.
He could hear people talking, telling the dog to shut-up.
Six more steps, followed by a four more. He wondered what the monster was doing now. Perhaps it was killing Pat, or maybe it had returned to its home, its nest. Was that possible? Was that likely? He didn’t know. He was halfway up the ladder and his sense of urgency was fading. He felt safer now. In fact, he almost felt safe. And he didn’t know what the monster was doing. All he could do was guess. Part of him wished he’d never know.
After eight more steps he looked down again.
Cameron was climbing up the ladder, but things had changed.
The monster was beneath her now, scaling the wall with slow methodical steps. Three legs gripped the concrete as two more found the ladder. There was a system to those legs; they moved with logical discipline. And yet each leg seemed ready to fight, ready for war.
Mouths opened and closed. Chewing.
The beast is still eating Roger, Dan thought. Or maybe that’s Pat. Oh man, it’s gnawing on bones. Oh shit, oh shit. What is that thing? This can’t be happening. This can’t be––
Cameron shrieked, cutting his thoughts in half. She must have looked down, seen the beast and realized it was coming after her.
“HURRY,” Dan shouted.
Then the creature screeched loudly: SQUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
The sound made Cameron’s shoulders lift and her face turn pale, morphing into a mask of grave terror. Eyes, flooded with dread, bulged from their sockets, ready to pop from her head.
The monster’s legs found new positions. Claws snapped shut, clamped together.
The ladder shook more now than before.
And Cameron screamed again, sounding like a terrified child. Once she was done screaming her limbs jumped into high gear; her arms and legs scrambled up the ladder like a cockroach scurrying across a cupboard door.
She wasn’t the only one.
Daniel also climbed madly. The feeling of relative safety he briefly enjoyed had been instantly swept away. He was in danger now; they both were. This was their moment of truth, the moment both lives could end.
Up and up they traveled. Each rung looked the same as the next: rusty and solid. Only the shadows changed. Climbing the ladder was hard work, and even with the work-lights blasting, the shaft was still dark, and more than a little bit disturbing.
Daniel moved with grace and speed, and everything seemed to be okay until he slammed his knuckles on a rung. And lost his footing.
He was falling.
Oh God, he thought. Oh please Lord no.
Falling.
Falling was the worst feeling in the world, the absolute worst. Thankfully, it only lasted a moment. He slid down four rungs, grappling everything he could until he grabbed hold. His chin slammed against iron and his teeth clunked together, chipping a nugget from a tooth. Pain shot through his mouth and into his brain, causing him to release a squeal. There was a ringing in his ears, but at least he had stopped falling. It was something to be grateful for.
SQUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
After the monster’s shriek he heard something very faintly. It sounded like Pat yelling, “I’m still down here!”
He’s still alive.
Dan pinched his eyes together and imagined Pat being devoured by the creature, one limb at a time. The pain of those teeth ripping through muscle and bone would be colossal. It would be death. But pain or no pain, Cameron or no Cameron, Patrick or no Patrick, Daniel had to keep moving. He just had to.
Life depended on it.
Daniel scrambled past the top rung and crawled free of the pit. He flipped onto his back, expelling huge mouthfuls of air. He put one hand on his chest and one hand to his face. He fingered his broken tooth. Needle-like pain riffled his gums.
William looked down at him, lost in his thinking. “What in God’s name is going on, Daniel? Where’s my brother?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
Beth looked down at him, resembling a construction worker standing over a manhole. She rubbed her hands together.
William had said to her: You might know Daniel. He’s a summer guy. Good looking, friendly, has that city vibe. She realized, looking into his face, that––yes, she did know Daniel. Not very well but that didn’t matter. They had shared a drink or two at the Waterfront Café, and she wouldn’t hesitate to say hello if she saw him on the street.
Beth’s eyes shifted away from Daniel. She looked down the hole. She put a hand to her mouth. Color drained from her face with such velocity it looked like a special effect. Her brow wrinkled and her nose widened. She seemed to be turning into an old woman, right then and there.
She said, “What is that thing?”
William eyed Beth like she had lost her mind. “What thing?”
“That thing!” Beth bounced up and down and her big arms began waving. She shouted, “OH SHIT, GIRL, RUN! RUN!”
William grunted. He walked towards the hole, curious and confused.
At first he didn’t see it––the thing, the monster, the giant creature with twenty-six legs, twelve mouths and countless eyes, the animal that was squeezing its body through the shaft, the brute that was less than twenty feet from making a grand entrance in Daniel’s basement, the beast that had killed Roger. Eaten him, it fact. Eaten him alive within a matter of seconds. No, he didn’t see that. And the reason was simple: He was focused on Cameron, the girl he had know all his life. She was only a few feet away and moving like greased lightning. He was looking at her, at the horror in her eyes, the terror clutching her face. He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened.
His eyes shifted. And that’s when he saw it: the thing behind her. He figured it was a grizzly bear.
Then he started to scream.
21
Cameron wasn’t looking down. She didn’t have time. The beast was right there. She could smell it. She could feel it. And even though the monster looked far bigger than the area it was crawling in, it was right behind her somehow, squeezing itself into the least possible places. It filled the entire shaft. She could see the beast without looking down; that was the truth of it. She co
uld see it without taking her eyes from the ladder. And that was the important thing now: the ladder. Climbing the ladder. It was all she had to do, just climb the ladder and do it quickly. She didn’t have time for anything else. She didn’t have time to think. And, sure as shit, she didn’t have time to ponder her relationship with Paul LaFalce, that lying, stinking, two-timing stack of ape-dung that worked at Hoppers Gas over on the 9th line. No, she definitely didn’t have time to think about him. She had to get out of the pit and away from the danger. Get outside. Keep moving and not look down. For the love of her mother’s eternal soul, and everything else she cared about, she needed to climb the ladder and not look down.
At one point it almost had her.
The creature leapt. One long stalk shot forward, slamming the wall beside her. The stalk was thick, so, so, thick. She couldn’t believe it. The damn thing looked like a wooly black elephant leg with a claw on the end of it. She kept climbing; she didn’t slow her pace. As startled as she was by the abomination, she didn’t slow. She couldn’t slow. Slowing would be dying. Slowing would be the end, the final curtain, the last dance. Just like it was for Roger.
Poor Roger. Poor dead Roger.
Poor dead Patrick.
She looked up, surprised to find that she was near the top of the ladder.
She pushed on. People were yelling and screaming; a dog was barking. Daniel was no longer climbing; he was gone. He had climbed his way to safety and survived. She wondered if William’s dog was doing all that barking: Hellboy. She loved Hellboy; he was the cutest dog in the world, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was climbing.
She kept going.
She had nine more rungs.
Eight.
Seven. Six. And Hellboy kept barking. And yes, it was Hellboy! It was! She could tell by the sound of the bark.
Terror Town Page 9