Kane's Scary Tales: Volume 1

by Paul Kane

  “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head and continuing on. Busying himself with his job until his bag was heaving and he had enough pills to make sure his mum wouldn’t be kicked out of her new home anytime soon. It was only as he was stepping out of the storeroom on the final floor that he heard the noise.

  It was coming from another set of doors. A banging sound… No, it was a knocking.

  You’ve got what you need, he said to himself. Time to get back down to Chaz, to head off with your “winnings”.

  But instead he found himself drifting towards those doors, even though the sound had died off. What had it been? JB frowned, rubbed his chin. Did he really need to know that badly? Chaz had said that his card would open every door up there, so…

  He couldn’t just ignore it, could he? Maybe just a quick look, a peek behind them. Flying by the seat of his pants.

  JB had to know.

  He went over and tried the card. It failed the first time, then suddenly the doors opened with a hiss. It was darker inside here, and it wasn’t until he stepped in properly that the lights flickered on; though even then they weren’t half as bright as those from the other rooms he’d passed through. JB found himself in another lab, with what looked like yet another storeroom off to the right. But also what looked to be some sort of huge tank at the far end. There were no glass windows in here, no partitions. This was a room at the very heart of this floor, cut off. Secret.

  JB walked through, glancing at the tables as he went – seeing more pills, unlabelled this time (no point swiping any of those, they could be dangerous), and various liquids in vials – but also something else. What looked like… he couldn’t think of any other word to describe them than pieces of raw meat. Some in bowls, some stretched taut on the tables and pinned – with petri dishes at the side of them. Experiments of some kind; more biology lessons. When the banging sound came again, JB jumped. It was coming from the tank up ahead. He had no idea why, but he didn’t feel like whatever was in there would hurt him. For one thing it was behind the glass of that tank – which was about twelve feet square, though still in darkness. He continued on, squinting to try and make out what was inside it, but only seeing vague shapes and outlines.

  JB moved forward again, and something banged against the side of the tank – causing him to step back. He cocked an ear; definitely sounded like knocking. It was only when he started to move forwards once more that the lights were triggered, revealing what was inside.

  It looked like another hunk of raw meat at first, but this time the skin was on. The more JB peered into the tank, the more he took in of whatever the hell this was, the more he thought it looked like some kind of animal that had been shorn of its fur or feathers… Because it was starting to look – to him – like something you’d roast and have for Sunday dinner. Not a headless chicken, and no running around because it didn’t have any legs or feet, but a headless and massively oversized turkey. Or possibly a goose.

  There was no way this thing should even be alive, and yet as JB stepped closer it jerked and slammed itself against the side of the tank. The bang almost caused him to fall over backwards this time, to drop his bag of pills.

  “Jesus,” he said to himself. Again, he had no way of knowing this, but JB felt the creature was somehow in pain. Then he spotted the scarring, the marks where sections of it had been cut away – the bits of meat that were on those tables behind him. The animals he’d already encountered had been one thing, but this was something else entirely. He couldn’t just walk away from this, had to do something. But what? Let it go? Put it out of its obvious misery?

  JB placed a hand on the glass and instead of banging against it this time, the thing pressed its own bulk up to the barrier. This wasn’t right, not right at all.

  “Magnificent, isn’t it?” Now it was the voice from over his shoulder that made him start – deep and booming, carrying weight, authority. A voice he’d never heard before, definitely not Chaz’s.

  JB spun around to find a man looking past him at the thing in the tank. He was in his fifties at least, balding – and what hair he did have was white – quite tall, but with a protruding stomach. Someone who’d enjoyed the benefits of a luxury lifestyle. JB’s first thought was that this was one of the scientists, someone still working here late – though where he’d been as JB had scoured the place was anyone’s guess. But he didn’t have the air of someone like that about him; no lab coat or anything, and instead was wearing a suit that probably cost more money than JB had ever earned in his life – legitimately or otherwise. More money than he ever would, even taking into account what he’d stolen that night. The man had his hands in his pockets and was rocking back and forth on his heels.

  JB must have been gaping at the fellow, because he suddenly stared back – and it was more intense than any poker stare. Suddenly he stepped nearer and smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners? I’m DJ Addlington.” JB opened his mouth but wasn’t quite sure what to say. What could you say when you’d just been caught red-handed, stealing by… by who? The name told him nothing. Only that he went by initials, the same as him. “Oh, I expect you’re wondering who exactly I am,” the fellow continued, as if reading his mind. “I run this company. At least I do for now.”

  “How… how do you do,” said JB. It seemed more appropriate than just hello, given the obvious standing of this person – but it sounded so bizarre, even to him.

  The man laughed. “I do very well indeed, thank you for asking.”

  “I…” JB gave up and shook his head.

  “You’re wondering what I’m doing here, aren’t you?” He continued to move forward, not intimidated in the slightest by the burglar he’d found in his midst – pulling up alongside him, in fact. “Well, you see, the fact is I’ve been spending quite a lot of time up here of late. Since the takeover anyway… Ah, this place! I built it up from scratch, you know. Had quite a supportive boss too. Ruth left us alone to do what we do, didn’t really care as long as the cash kept rolling in. Not like that pasty-faced bitch of a stepdaughter – she’s trouble. We’ve had to keep quite a lot of things from her, are still doing so in fact. But for how much longer… I can’t really say.”

  JB didn’t really know what he was talking about, but figured it had something to do with the “hostile takeover” Chaz had been going on about.

  Addlington nodded to himself. “I fear she just wouldn’t understand some of our methods, you see? The risks you have to take to achieve something. But then, you’d know all about that wouldn’t you, my boy?” He nodded down at the bag now, which JB was attempting to hide behind his back. “We do good work here, and very lucrative work as well. Supply and demand, that’s what it’s all about. But our head scientist once studied under Strauss, you know… Not the musician, obviously.” He chuckled at his own joke. “We’ve made so many strides here, opened so many doors you wouldn’t believe it. Oh, those things you’re holding, they’re just the tip of the iceberg. Thanks to our genetically engineered friend here, and others like it in facilities all around the world, we’ve done so much more. Done wonders.”

  JB was beginning to see why there weren’t any cameras on these levels. Not everything that went on here was above board. Maybe not anything.

  The man strode back over towards a desk and pointed. “At that station, they’re working on a cure for leukaemia.” He turned and pointed to another. “At this one, kidney disease.” Addlington nodded over to one final desk. “At that station, they’re looking into dementia…” That got JB’s attention, so Addlington clarified: “All to the highest bidder, naturally… to begin with. It’s how business works, young man. You wouldn’t let those pills you have there go for any less than they’re worth, would you? Wouldn’t want the little deal with Charles to make less than either of you expected.”

  JB said nothing.

  “I wouldn’t expect you to. Of course, it’s all a far cry from what we used to be – what we could be again, if that fucking slut Angela woul
d just stop sticking her nose…” Addlington shook his head.

  “Giants of the business world, that’s what we were – what we should be striving for.” He paused, regarded JB once more. “But there’s still so much to see… would you like to take a look at our real prize? The icing on the cake?”

  Once more, JB remained silent. He still wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say; Addlington knew about what he had cooking with Chaz, but did that mean he was going to shop both of them?

  “All right, follow me, then.”

  The tall, suited man turned his back on JB and strode over to the last set of doors JB assumed was another storeroom. The he rounded again, beckoned JB over. “Well, come along. What are you waiting there for?”

  Reluctantly, JB continued on over – what choice did he have? Run? He wouldn’t get very far. And he certainly wasn’t going to hurt this defenceless guy, add GBH or worse to his list of misdemeanours. Besides, he just wasn’t that kind of bloke.

  Addlington nodded to himself again, placed his hand on a reader by the door; this was clearly one lock which didn’t open using the card JB still had in his possession. As with all the others, the doors hissed open. Not letting in the light, but letting the darkness inside out. It wasn’t until the suited man walked in that the lights were tripped, one at a time down along a corridor.

  JB wasn’t far behind him now, and so saw these sights as they were illuminated. More tanks, or perhaps that should be… cells. In the first, there was water – and as Addlington walked past it, the figure inside swam up to look at him. A cross between a fish and a man, gills at the neck working overtime.

  Addlington thumbed back at the tank. “About 71% of the Earth is covered in water, and it’s growing every day, so we might all have use of this subject’s unique talents before too long. Of course, we can’t let the cleaning ladies anywhere near him.” He laughed, but stopped when JB didn’t join in. “Just my little joke.”

  Moving on to the next tank and JB was shown exactly the opposite, a mixture of earth and sand – with something moving through it. When it came close enough to the glass for JB to see, he couldn’t take his eyes off the “man” who looked like he’d been blended with a giant earthworm; all brown sliminess, with no arms or legs. Whatever its purpose was, Addlington didn’t reveal it – moving on as he did down the line to yet another of his “freak collection” as he called them (a far cry from stamps), or his “rogues’ gallery”: a man who looked to be lizard-like in nature, scaly and hideous, tongue darting in and out periodically.

  Some prisoners JB noted, were not spliced with anything, but suffering from strange maladies; the kind he assumed the mice and rats were carrying, but probably deadlier. Covered in boils or blisters, some of which wept bright yellow pus. One even had what looked like mushrooms dotted around his body, a living fungus – though for how much longer was anyone’s guess. JB put a hand to his mouth, barely able to keep down his last meal.

  Each one looked at them sadly as they passed by, as miserable with their lot as the poor turkey thing outside.

  “It’s like anything else, different markets require different ways of working. A lot of what we do here can be weaponized,” Addlington informed him. “Indeed, various sectors of the armed forces account for a lot of our funding. Or used to. We’ve begun selling to whichever military regime will pay the most of late. Needs must and all that… Which brings us to this little chap.”

  The man chortled again, and now JB saw why. The subject in the next cell, suspended in a cloud of gas, was huge. The biggest man JB had ever seen in his life, had to be about fifteen feet tall – and built with it! If he’d been spliced with anything, it was some sort of ape judging from the blackness of some of those tufts of hair… or was it fur growing out of him? But there was also a fair amount of stitching here or there, making it look like the body parts had been grafted on to it. Though asleep, the thing’s deep frown – the heavy brow – made it look terrifyingly fearsome. The very embodiment of anger.

  “Well, what do you think? I suggested the sutures, a nod to a certain professor from literature – but actually I just wanted him to appear meaner, if that’s at all possible.” Addlington was looking the thing up and down, admiring every inch of its frame – naked aside from a pair of shorts. “Pumped full of epinephrine – which is why we have to keep him in this state – he’s the ultimate warrior. Imagine if just one of these was dropped into a war zone, let alone a squadron of them. Obviously, there might be collateral damage, civilians in the way, but then there always is in situations like those, isn’t there? We can’t police all that, and it’s not our… business to. We just provide the ‘guns’, we don’t pull the triggers. Anyway, he’s being shipped out on Thursday.”

  It explained why the service lift was so massive here, so they could get things like this brute out via the back door; maybe even loaded up onto a barge then sent down the river. But… but this was just as wrong as what was happening back in the other room – what was probably happening on all these R&D levels. “You’re… you’re crazy,” JB suddenly blurted out before he could help himself. “This is all insane!”

  Addlington gazed at him, genuinely puzzled. “How do you mean?”

  “How do I… Where do I start? I mean… None of this is legal, right?” he said.

  The suited man guffawed this time. “About as legal as breaking in and stealing those pills.”

  He pointed down at the bag JB was holding, clutching tightly by the top now the more anxious he became. “I-I don’t want them anymore,” JB said, but didn’t relinquish his treasure.

  “Nevertheless, you still came here to take them, didn’t you?”

  JB couldn’t really say anything to that, he had come to steal. But breaking the law – the lad was rapidly discovering – was a sliding scale. One thing Addlington wasn’t about to do was call the police right now, and JB told him as much.

  “I had no intentions of doing that anyway,” the man stated. “Never did. Isn’t that right, Charles?”

  JB turned around, hadn’t even heard the man’s approach – but there he was with his uniform on, and a new addition. A gun pointing in JB’s direction. “How are we going to make any money if we do that?” he said with a sneer.

  Make any money? Surely the deal wasn’t still going ahead? Did Addlington want in on it or something? “I…” JB began. “I don’t–”

  “Wasn’t talking to you, John-Boy.” He looked over at Addlington and nodded. His boss nodded back in recognition. “How do you think they come by test subjects like these? Human test subjects? It’s not easy, you know. And it’s getting harder all the time, can’t just keep grabbing homeless people off the street like we’re in some sort of bad horror flick.”

  “That’s where a man of Charles’ talents comes in handy,” Addlington admitted; he didn’t pull the trigger himself, he just provided the weapon. “And he’s paid handsomely for it – more than he’d get selling those pills of yours and splitting it. Especially seventy-thirty.”

  Chaz grinned again then shrugged. “Like I said, messy divorce.”

  “But… but Ned… The game…”

  “Don’t blame him, he added me as a favour to a friend of a friend, if you catch my drift. Didn’t know what I was up to. I think he kinda likes you. Wouldn’t miss you, though. No-one will. I promise.”

  “My… my Mum,” said JB.

  “From what I hear she doesn’t even know who you are anymore,” said Addlington. “What a shame. Under different circumstances we might have been able to help her.”

  “So, you let me win?” JB said to Chaz.

  “You’re not as hard to read as you think, mate. Not to someone like me. I knew you had Jack. Two Jacks to be precise.” He laughed at this, and his boss joined in, unable to resist a good pun. The two Jacks that had got him into this mess, leading up to him being here in this corridor with these lunatics clutching his bag of… JB looked down. Chaz looked as well; knew what he was about to do, but wasn’t quic
k enough to stop him.

  JB threw the bag of pills at Chaz, the contents spilling out as they tumbled over and over. A shot rang out but went wide – by which time JB had rushed Chaz and was grappling with him for the gun. Wasn’t the kind of bloke to tackle a defenceless old man, but someone closer to his age, someone threatening his life… That was different.

  Chaz lost his footing, slipping on some of the pills that had come out of the bag. JB still had hold of his arm, bringing it round as another shot went off.

  “Subdue him, you idiot!” shouted Addlington.

  “What…what do you think I’m tryin’ to–” Chaz stopped in mid-sentence as JB elbowed him in the face. Another shot, which ricocheted off the walls of that corridor. JB slammed Chaz’s hand sideways into the closest tank and the pistol they’d been wrestling over went flying through the air, then clattered along the ground when it landed.

  Chaz brought up his knee into JB’s stomach, winding him and doubling him over. JB retaliated by tugging at the man’s leg in an attempt to pull him off his feet. Round and round they went, looking like one of the freaks in that gallery: a weird set of co-joined twins.

  “All right, that’s enough!” shouted Addlington, and both men looked over to see that he’d snatched up the weapon and was pointing it in their direction. Pointing it at JB, once he’d stopped struggling and Chaz had detached himself from his opponent. Maybe he was prepared to pull the trigger after all. “That’s more like it. Now, where were we? Charles, if you wouldn’t mind–”