Kane's Scary Tales: Volume 1

by Paul Kane

  There was a banging sound. A noise much louder than the one that had caught JB’s attention in the first place, caused him to investigate the outer chamber with its turkey-thing in the tank. Much more like a thumping sound, someone bashing something.

  Addlington turned to the side. “Oh no,” he managed, though it came out more like a wheeze.

  JB looked as well, to see that the thing in the final cell, the final tank, had awoken; and it was even more pissed off than it looked when it was sleeping. Glancing down, he saw why it had happened. The controls had been shattered by one of Chaz’s stray bullets. And now the beast was raining down blows on the glass that was holding him captive.

  For a moment or two, JB really thought it would hold. It had to be toughened glass, didn’t seem sensible to be anything else. But then the knocking, the bashing sound – which had offered an opportunity, quite possibly the most important one of JB’s life; a distraction and a chance for him to escape – turned into a cracking. The glass was splintering, soon resembled a spider’s web.

  Addlington was running already, past both JB and Chaz – off up the corridor, aiming for the door to this section. JB wasn’t far behind him, shouting for Chaz: “Come on, move yourself!” But he was rooted to the spot, apparently fascinated by the creature that was breaking out of its confinement.

  Then it was too late. It was free. As JB had suspected, there was definite ape or gorilla DNA in the mix somewhere, and the proof was in the way it moved: leaping free to stand, arms dangling, in the corridor.

  Chaz barely had time to scream before it was on him, grabbing him and lifting. The massive monster flung him sideways into the wall with enough force to smash his head open like a melon. Blood splattered everywhere, and Chaz’s body went limp, clearly dead on impact. Though that didn’t stop the thing from tearing the security man limb from limb, apparently for sport. Its strength was incredible – but it wasn’t as fast as JB, as he sprinted and threw himself out of the secret corridor, just as the doors were closing again.

  Addlington was on the other side, his hand pressed against the sensor. He looked at JB and for a moment the boy thought he was going to just flat out shoot him. Then there came the noises: more smashing of glass, more screaming. Banging from the other side of these doors now, accompanied by water streaming out from underneath them – red water, as if it had been mixed with blood. The creature hadn’t been content with just killing Chaz, it seemed.

  The pair exchanged one more glance before taking off, neither of them trusting the barrier enough to hold this monstrosity that was all rage and fury; that had been created to combat soldiers who were better armed than them. And they were right not to, because they’d only made it halfway across the room when both doors flew outwards – and flew off their hinges.

  “Run!” shouted JB to Addlington, but he was having trouble. All that good living was catching up with him and he stumbled once, twice, dropping to his hands and knees. JB stopped and went back, trying to help him up, pulling him to his feet again.

  Behind them, the creature was swatting desks out of the way. The turkey thing was going mad inside its own tank, banging in what JB assumed was fear. But the giant looked back, was drawn towards the sound – and with a snarl punched the glass once, twice. Smashed it open completely.

  Its jubilation at being released – strange whining noises emanating from somewhere – was short-lived, however. For the giant picked it up and lifted it over its head, then it ripped the thing in two, bathing in its blood.

  The only thing JB could be thankful for was that its suffering was now over. But they had other problems to contend with, because the electrics from the ruined door were now sparking; and those sparks were landing in the various liquids that had been spilled as this ape-man went on the rampage. Obviously flammable, they caught light and spread across the room in waves.

  If the creature was scared of the flames, it didn’t show it – leaping over more desks, throwing more furniture around and generally wrecking the place as halon gasses were pumped in from the ceiling. They could see nothing behind them as the unlikely pair virtually fell out of that room, back into the lab that JB had raided. They kept moving, hoping that perhaps the fire or the gas had felled the creature. But then its outline appeared in that “fog”, followed closely by a roar that made the hairs on the back of JB’s neck stand proud.

  Then it was out in the open again, targeting them. It would reach Addlington first, that much was clear – and especially after he levelled the pistol and began firing at it. Some of the bullets found their mark, making dents in its skin, but didn’t slow it down any. In fact, this just angered the thing more, and by the time Addlington had clicked on empty it had reached the petrified man.

  A puddle had appeared at his crotch, staining that expensive suit and ruining it forever. Though not as much as the blood that exploded out of his back as the creature rammed its fist through his chest and gut. It then proceeded to throw Addlington at one of the windows, which smashed completely. The last JB saw of the businessman was his body falling out of sight down the side of the building, shards of glass accompanying it.

  The beast turned to face him, and they locked eyes for a moment. It didn’t matter how fast JB was, it would reach him eventually. It would reach him and kill him. End of story. End of his story anyway, and all this would have been for nothing. No more opportunities, no fortune favouring anything.

  Then it happened. The room that was filled with halon suddenly exploded outwards, catching the creature in its wake. Obviously, it hadn’t got to the fire in time, or was simply unable to put out this specific mix of chemicals – who knew what was in any of that crap they were coming up with inside there.

  But JB didn’t care. This was another break, another chance to get free of this place. Make for the service lift and just get the fuck out of this other nightmare he was trapped in.

  So that’s what he did, running away from the flames – the fire. Running to the lift and jabbing the button. It opened, and he had a moment’s hesitation, knew that in the case of fires you were supposed to use the stairs instead. But was that really wise if you were being pursued by a gigantic rage-monster? He figured he’d take his chances, hopping in and pressing the button for the ground floor.

  To begin with everything had been fine, but then the cage he was in rocked to a halt somewhere around the 90th floor.

  “Damn!” said JB, recalling his thoughts on the way up here. Maybe call for help now, but he had no signal on his mobile anyway (some kind of blocker perhaps?) and there was no reply when he tried the emergency phone. JB looked up, looked at the hatch above him. Wouldn’t hurt to take a peek, would it? See what was going on. See if he was near to any doorways he could force open.

  Putting a foot on the bar at the side of him, he dragged himself to the ceiling, then shoved open the door there. The light from the lift extended enough for him to see a ladder on the far wall, and there was a gap between it and the lift cage – obviously for emergencies such as this. Worst case scenario, he’d reach the next level using that.

  But then he heard it, a sound from above him. Not knocking this time, but screeching. And when he looked up he saw why he’d stopped in the first place. It was small from this distance (about the only time it would look small) but brightly lit and getting bigger all the time.

  The creature from above, from the top floor – climbing down the cable. Something that had clearly set off some sort of safety protocol, or maybe that thing had just reached out and grabbed the metal flex, squeezing to stop the lift. That didn’t really matter now; it was chasing him. Climbing down towards the lift, it would reach him in no time at all.

  JB debated what to do, his choices pretty limited: climb back down into the cage and hope it wouldn’t be able to break through, that it wouldn’t just rip back the roof like it was peeling a banana; or get up onto the roof, meet it head on. His chances of surviving the latter seemed slim, compared to getting back inside, yet something to
ld him to scramble out and stand up on the roof. Maybe dodge it some way, because it was coming down quite fast – could climb much better than it walked as you’d expect from something that was part King Kong.

  Who was getting shafted now? he thought.

  But there was something different about it, JB saw. The reason it was so brightly lit… And that was because it was on fire. The explosion had coated it with chemicals and other flammables, which had turned it into a “human” fireball. A fireball that wasn’t about to stop, that there was no point in meeting head on.

  So JB waited. Waited it out, putting on his best poker face. Perhaps he wasn’t that easy to read after all – because the creature clearly thought it was going to get him, completing its mission. Probably thought that even as JB lunged to the side and leapt for the ladder. He almost missed grabbing the rung, swinging back on one arm – as the beast flew past him and hit the lift at speed. But he managed to get a foot on, then swing himself fully onto the thing, as the metal box took the monster’s weight.

  Then promptly began to fall with the creature inside it.

  The momentum carried it down, dropping away from JB – plummeting into the depths. Then at some point the cable just snapped and followed it. JB had to push himself flat against the ladder to avoid getting hit by the end of the whipping metal.

  He started to climb, only had to make it to the next level to get the door open. But a look down revealed he wasn’t out of the woods yet. When the lift finally hit ground floor the whole shaft shook.

  JB could see the flames rising, slowly but surely. He reached over and tried to prise open the door, his fingers unable to find purchase. It was no use, he’d have to jump over, lever it from the doorway. Closing his eyes, then opening them again – whispering all the time: “Just like those trees in the park…” – he made that leap.

  Seconds felt like years before his feet connected with the ledge and he almost fell backwards into the shaft. Quickly, he got his fingers into the gap and attempted to prise apart the doors. A quick look down told him the fire was still rising, faster and faster. It would reach him anytime.

  One last try and he yanked the doors open, falling into the corridor just as the flames reached his level. The doors closed again, keeping the heat inside the shaft. JB shook his head, hardly able to believe his luck. Fortune really was favouring him tonight.

  Not questioning it, trying not to even think about it, he made for the nearest door that said stairs, and pushed on through to the other side. JB took the steps two and three at a time when he reached them; flying down them by the seat of his pants as the entire building shook, plaster falling from the walls and ceiling.

  “It’s all going to be okay. It’ll all be fine,” he kept repeating to himself as he went, down and down, as if willing it to be so. “Will all be fine now,” he said again and again.

  “I promise.”

  ***

  JB had made that promise, not only to himself, but to his mum.

  Yes, he lost the pills, which had gone up like everything else in that fire which raged through the skyscraper – and which he only just escaped from, getting out and getting to his borrowed car (he was going to call the authorities, but then heard the sirens in the distance; they were already on their way).

  Lost his way of making money from his haul but was thankful he hadn’t lost his life as well. And besides, he’d gained something potentially much better.

  He sat watching the news on the small portable TV in the home, watching the reports about the fire and its aftermath; about how the building had eventually toppled because the base had become unstable – described by people nearby as being like a giant falling over; about how it had fallen backwards into the river that flowed behind it, which thankfully had not been in use at the time. About how there had been very few people inside when the fire started, and all had been accounted for apart from two employees; that they’d know more after they’d completed their investigations… Which, JB was willing to bet, would not involve making public what they discovered when they started sifting through the rubble – if any of it had survived intact of course (and it was probably a good thing those poor sods in the cages hadn’t; were killed even before the fire).

  And thought to himself how no one would even know he’d been inside at all. He hoped.

  No way they knew he’d snatched something else, either, when Addlington had his back turned. Something from one of the desks that he’d pointed out. Something he’d shoved into his pocket – only having time to grab a few. Something he’d had a devil of a job getting down his mother when he next visited, having to practically force it down her with water.

  “It’s for your own good,” he promised her, having no idea whether it would work or not. If it did, then maybe he could sell it off – make some money that way? Or he might just send it to that Angela girl Addlington had spoken about, who could do some good with it. Explain what had happened… or not. He hadn’t decided yet.

  For now though, all he could do was wait. Sit watching the news, by his mum’s side, and wait.

  Wait to see if it was the right pill, and if it would even work at all.

  He dozed off at some point during the broadcast, still exhausted after all the excitement of the other night. And from somewhere far away, he thought he heard a knocking. Knocking as though on a door, followed by his mother’s voice.

  His mum calling out his name, causing him to stir. Saying it like she often used to do: “John-Boy, oh my John-Boy…”

  He heard it, definitely heard something. Not in a nightmare this time, but a nice dream. One he was scared to wake from yet wanted to find out either way for definite – hoping against hope that it wasn’t just his imagination.

  Because fortune only favoured the brave.

  And it was time to open that door.

  The End

  Afterword – A Life of Scary Tales

  When publisher Steve Dillon asked me to pen an afterword for this book, talking about where my love of fairy tales comes from, I realised they have been with me all my life. Some of my earliest memories are of my granddad and parents reading them to me, and even the teachers at school when I was knee-high to a grasshopper.

  It’s probably because they have such damned good messages to them, or at least the rewritten ones do anyway, that adults try to drill these stories into us as kids. The originals are much, much darker – something I was hoping to return to with these reworkings. But anyway, the old faithfuls of Little Red Riding Hood, Snow White, Cinderella and so on were seared into my brain pretty early. So much so that when I began writing fiction myself, and in particular horror fiction, it was inevitable that I would return to them at some point to try and create my own.

  Nothing new in that, I hear you cry. No, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t influenced by the likes of Neil Gaiman and unique pieces like Snow, Glass, Apples, then later on people like Sarah Pinborough with her Tales from the Kingdoms trilogy. But like fingerprints, no two authors’ stories are alike – something anyone who’s read my other stuff will know. My Hooded Man books may have been influenced by Robin of Sherwood, but mine’s a very different take to Kip’s.

  The first horror fairy tale I wrote, though – which is included in this collection – was a companion piece to my Signs of Life novella, published by Crystal Serenades back in 2005. The novella was only about 30,000 words so they wanted to bump it up with a couple more stories, one of which ended up being… Who’s Been…? a strange blend of British Kitchen Sink drama and Goldilocks. I haven’t looked back since.

  RED came next, very quickly after that: my bloodthirsty version of Red Riding Hood, complete with a shapeshifting wolf. That originally came out from Skullvines, but did so well that SST Publications reprinted the original alongside its sequel, Blood RED, a couple of years ago. I’m currently working on the third part of the trilogy to tie everything up, the post-apocalyptic Deep RED.

  I had such a great time writing RED that not long aft
erwards I got stuck into Sleeper(s), which Crystal Lake brought out back in 2013. With that, I wanted to pay homage not only to the original fairy tale but also to TV like Doctor Who and Quatermass, and films like Outbreak and The Andromeda Strain. If you’re reading this, Sleeper(s) is included so you can be the judge of whether I succeeded or not.

  Snow (which originally came out as a standalone novelette from Stormblade publications) and Sin (which was included in my crime/psychological collection for Black Shuck, Nailbiters) were more or less written back-to-back. I did all the research for both together, and quite neatly they ended up being more or less the same length. I think I also had the idea for Giants around then as well, but put it on the back burner until I could gather all the stories together for a collection: this one, in fact. That started with the image of the giant monster rampaging down a lift shaft, and I just worked backwards from there.

  My aim with Scary Tales was to have all my dark fairy tales in one place, and also be a kind of companion book to the RED tales which have gone off and had a life of their own. So, if you liked those, hopefully you enjoyed these tales too – and vice versa. If you bought and enjoyed Scary Tales your next port of call should really be SST for Blood RED.

  I also wanted to make this Volume One, again to pay homage to the Grimm Brothers’ original collections, but also because I know I won’t be able to leave these dark fairy tales alone. I’m already having ideas for my next one, so at some point in the future expect to see a Volume Two.

  Until then, I want to thank Steve for having enough faith to publish the book. Angela, for taking the time out of her busy schedule to read them and provide such a wonderful introduction. Les and Val Edwards for letting us use that perfect image for the front cover. And thanks, of course, to you dear reader. You’re the reason I do what I do – because, well, what’s a writer without readers? Unemployed, probably. So, thank you for buying, thank you for putting your trust in me, and thank you for the continued support.