Dark Screams, Volume 1

by Dark Screams- Volume 1 (v5. 0) (epub)

  “How did I get here?”

  The man’s eyelids snapped open to reveal blazing eyes. They were storms of rage. He lurched to his feet and ran.

  “Stop!” I yelled. “Stop! You’ll break my neck!”

  The Goliath kept on running. The slack went from the chain that connected my neck to his neck. It snapped tight so violently sparks flashed from the links. The next moment, I found myself being dragged across the floor, my entire body skittering across the concrete. The pain in my neck was so vicious I screamed. All I could do was grip on to the chain with both hands and submit to being hauled along.

  Goliath hurtled through that huge underground vault, which channeled the river. My shouts and the bellow of rapids echoed back at me. The man in the white coverall didn’t even seem to know I was shackled to him. He’d almost reached the end of the vault when he noticed something to his left. Changing direction, he thundered into a side chamber built from the same bricks that oozed damp and slime. Of course, I kept yelling and, of course, he either couldn’t hear me or ignored me. Then I saw what Goliath had found.

  A guy of around fifty stood with his back to the wall. He wore a high-visibility vest in Day-Glo yellow. Maybe he worked on maintenance down here. When he saw Goliath, his eyes bulged in horror. He was terrified of the beast-man hurtling toward him, dragging me by the chain.

  The man in the hi-viz vest didn’t run away. He couldn’t. He’d been chained to the wall. All he could do was scream—that’s what he did. Loud and piercing enough to hurt my ears.

  Goliath seized the man’s face in one huge, meaty hand. Then he smashed his victim’s head against the brickwork. Not just once, but over and over. Sweet God in heaven, the force of those blows shattered bone. Blood splashed outward in a sunburst pattern of crimson streaks. The skull stopped being a skull. Instead, it resembled a soft, floppy thing, like an empty cloth bag, and it steamed in the cold air.

  Vest guy slumped down dead, supported only by the shackles fixed to his wrists. One eye shone whitely through an ugly mess that was red, and wet, and dripping. Goliath stepped back, nodded in the way men do when important work has been done, and done well—and that’s when he turned and looked at me.

  —

  I’d been commissioned to take photographs for a newspaper article called “Leeds After Dark.” So I’d headed out at night to capture images of those city streets, teeming with people as they headed to bars, or restaurants. I clearly remember heading toward the train station, intending to photograph revelers making for home. That’s the last thing I did remember until I woke to find myself in that huge crypt of a place, with its surging river, and—most alarming of all—discovering that I’d been chained to nightmare man.

  Moments later, he’d murdered a guy chained to a wall. I felt sick. Goliath had destroyed the man’s skull. This had to be the worst thing I’d seen in my entire life. Even after death the corpse twitched. The dead man’s dentures slipped out through his bloody lips with a wet plopping sound and fell onto the floor.

  Now Goliath looked at me, and I thought, I’m next.

  While the giant had been busily mutilating his victim’s head I’d managed to get to my feet. Of course, I couldn’t run away because I was shackled to him. And I sure couldn’t fight the guy, either—he was a walking slab of muscle. All I could do was wait for him to make the first move. He lurched forward, keeping those fiery eyes of his locked on to my face. The chain went slack between us. He reached out and, oh, yes, I thought about the way he grabbed vest guy’s face and broke his skull against the wall. The thick fingers flashed through the air straight at me. I swore they made a whistling sound, they moved that fast. Then he did a strange thing. He felt the collar and the padlock that secured the chain to my neck. At the same time, the fingers of his other hand explored the padlock and collar around his neck. His eyes scanned my face as he did this.

  It’s like he believes my face is a mirror, and he’s seeing his own reflection. That observation was followed by another one that felt red-hot and dangerous inside my head: He’s insane. He’s a psycho. See the white paper suit? He must have escaped from prison. Yes, I was sure that was the truth, but it still didn’t answer the biggest questions of all: Who brought me down here? Why did they chain me to Goliath? What’s expected of me?

  Goliath stopped groping the metal fastenings around my neck. Here it comes: He’s going to kill me. My terror felt like a ball of ice that was growing bigger and bigger inside my chest.

  The big man, however, suddenly lost interest in me. He strolled back through the vault. I grabbed the chain as he took up the slack to prevent myself from being yanked forward by my neck. Clearly, I must follow, or I’d simply be dragged along anyway. He approached the river. Once there, he knelt down, leaned forward, and scooped water with the palm of his hand. I heard the loud slurping even above the roar of all that black water shooting by.

  As I waited for him to finish, I realized that if I was going to survive I’d have to keep my emotions under control. It was vitally important that I use every ounce of willpower to keep my cool and NOT panic. The guy in the yellow vest had screamed in terror. Had that triggered Goliath’s rage? I just didn’t know. Keeping calm, however, seemed the best option, because no way could I tackle him with my bare hands. We were chained neck to neck by ten feet of hard steel links. I’d have to use my brains to get out of this alive. Or those brains of mine would end up smeared all over the wall like those of poor, dead vest guy.

  That thought had a strange effect on me. I wanted to laugh out loud. Or did I want to start crying? Either way, my throat twitched as the sound tried to escape.

  Keep quiet, I told myself. Do nothing to provoke him. Try and be invisible. Remember when he seemed to be looking at you as if you were his reflection in a mirror? Maybe he’s so crazy that he doesn’t even view you as an individual. What if he sees you as merely part of himself? That could be the key to you getting out of here in one piece.

  Goliath still scooped water from the channel and slurped. Murder is thirsty work. I had to push my fist against my teeth so hard they creaked. Bizarrely, I felt an overwhelming need to laugh out loud. Nerves…it’s got to be nerves. Examine where you are, occupy your mind. JUST DO NOT LAUGH. Because laughing will be the DEATH of you.

  So while he guzzled that disgusting-looking water I focused on my surroundings: a curving brick roof twenty feet above my head. The river entered through one archway and exited at another. There were no lights in the tunnels beyond the archways, so the water rushed from darkness into light, then back into darkness again. The underground chamber was downright sinister. There were formidable iron structures at either side of the river, along with pipework and machinery. Was this a pumping station? If so, then this place would most likely be located beneath a viaduct in Leeds that’s known as the Dark Arches. This is where rain and groundwater flowed after being collected and channeled by the city’s drains. So that put the town directly above my head. There’d be cars running along roads up there, people walking to pubs, lovers embracing on street corners. All that activity, just a few feet above the brick ceiling. And here I am: a prisoner. Chained to Lord Nightmare. I hope that drain water makes him sick. No, may it choke him. For a moment a kind of madness gripped me. While he’s kneeling down drinking, push him in. He’ll drown. He can’t hurt you then.

  Thankfully, a shot of common sense came my way. Yeah, but what happens to me? I’m chained to him. I’d be pulled in. I’d drown, too.

  So this must be part of the drainage system under the Dark Arches. The pumps no doubt kicked in when there was heavy rain. The river’s exit tunnel was covered by a grille, acting as a filter to trap debris. I noticed a steel frame had been bolted to the roof, while hanging from that was a huge metal claw the size of a car. This claw must be used to keep the mesh clear of fast-food cartons, sticks, cans, and all the crap that’s washed down from the streets. In fact, a pile of tree branches and a jumble of debris formed a mound on the concrete floor close
to the exit tunnel. That must be where the claw dumped whatever it grabbed from the water. That planted a seed of hope. Maybe maintenance workers would come down here to operate the claw. They’d find me and the man-monster. In no time at all, the police would be here. I’d be guided to safety with a blanket around me and a cup of hot coffee in my hands, while Goliath headed to jail. That optimistic thought made me feel warm inside. Yes, maybe, just maybe…

  The killer grunted in a satisfied way. He’d liked his sewer juice, because no doubt there’d be some of that in there, too. He stood up facing the river and pulled down the zipper of the blood-spattered coverall. I kept absolutely still. I didn’t look as he urinated. After zipping up again, he lay down flat on the concrete and closed his eyes.

  “My God.” I whispered the words aloud in amazement. “He’s going to sleep.”

  Remaining absolutely still, I waited. He lay there on his back as if he’d settled down onto a comfy mattress. And, yes, his chest began to rise and fall in that steady way, which indicated he’d fallen asleep—actually fallen asleep here in this noisy, wet cavern of a place.

  I immediately attacked the padlock that was fixed to the steel collar around my neck. If I could force it open, or pry apart a link…

  “It’s no good. You won’t be able to free it.”

  The woman’s voice shocked me so much I thought my backbone would snap right out. My head swiveled as I searched for her.

  “Here,” she hissed, “on the other side.”

  I saw a green box on the far side of the culvert. The box, which probably housed machinery of some kind, stood about five feet in height, and there, above it, was something that I hadn’t expected to encounter down here: a woman of around thirty with short black hair. She wore a strapless dress and makeup for a night out. She was clearly frightened and extremely wary as she peered back at me from above the casing. The way her head and the upper part of her body were visible hinted that she stood on something on the other side in order to get a better view.

  She angled her head as she studied Goliath. “He is asleep, isn’t he?”

  “As far as I can tell,” I replied. “Who are you?”

  “One of you, I suppose. A prisoner. Look.” She raised her hands, revealing that her wrists were manacled together. Another chain fastened her to the metal casing.

  “My name’s John.” I whispered, because I didn’t want to wake the murderer. Even so, the roar of water flowing through the vault meant the whisper had to be a loud one, otherwise the woman wouldn’t hear me.

  “I’m Katy.”

  “How long have you been down here?”

  “Just over three hours.”

  “Who brought you?”

  “I don’t know. One moment I was near the bus station, the next thing I knew I was waking up here, chained to this box.”

  “Did you see who brought me here?”

  Instead of answering, she asked nervously, “Are you sure he’s asleep?”

  “Goliath? Sleeping like a baby.”

  “How do you know he’s called Goliath?”

  “I don’t.” I shrugged. “Though it seems as good a name as any.”

  “Kill him. Kill Goliath.”

  “How?” Her sudden demand to slaughter the guy shocked me. “I don’t have a weapon. And have you seen the size of him?”

  “You’ve got to.”

  I glanced at splashes of blood drying on his face. Had Katy seen the death of vest guy? A moment later came confirmation that she had, when she told me that she’d watched Goliath drag me along by the chain before going crazy and smashing his victim’s head to bits against the wall. Katy knew the guy was dangerous. She’d clearly decided that the only certain way to prevent our violent deaths was to terminate Goliath’s life. Yet putting an end to Goliath wouldn’t be easy.

  Meanwhile, I tried my earlier question again. “Katy, did you see who brought me down here and who chained me to him?”

  “Sorry. When I heard sounds I hid behind this box thing. By the time I dared look again you were lying on the floor near him. Goliath. I was going to call across to you, but when he awoke I was too frightened. I don’t want him coming across the river to get me.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “He’s still asleep, isn’t he?”

  I checked Goliath. The steel collar around his neck glinted as his chest rose and fell. “Seems like it.” I moved closer to him, stretching out my hand, ready to touch his leg, then thought better of it. Even so, the chain links that connected us together made a rattling sound and his head moved sharply, suggesting that he’d heard something other than the water gushing along its channel. And yet his eyes didn’t open and soon that rhythmic rise and fall of the chest indicated pretty clearly that he continued sleeping.

  “Don’t disturb him,” Katy whispered, obviously very scared. “He might get nasty if he’s woken up.”

  “Get nasty? He’s already nasty.”

  She nodded. “That’s why we’ve got to get out of here.”

  “I agree. The question is: How?”

  A voice answered me that wasn’t Katy’s.

  “What’s more, we need to do it before sleeping beauty wakes up.”

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “Over here. Behind you.”

  I looked back to see a young man with curly hair peering out of a recess in the brickwork.

  “I’ve been listening to you,” he said. “My name’s Nev.”

  He was a captive, too, chained to the wall. Like Katy, Nev wasn’t shackled to another prisoner. Apparently I was the only one to get buddied up with someone else. He explained that he’d only just woken and hadn’t seen either of us being brought in here. He told us that he worked at night, riding a pizza-delivery scooter. When he’d left an apartment block after making a delivery he thought he’d felt a pain in the back of his shoulder, but he wasn’t certain.

  “Even so,” he said, “I think I was injected with something that knocked me out.”

  “I don’t remember being injected,” I said.

  “Nor me,” added Katy. “But what if the drug caused short-term amnesia as well as rendering us unconscious?”

  “You mean the drug actually erases memory of the injection?”

  “It’s possible.”

  Nev peeped out from his recess. “Katy’s right, you know? What she said earlier? You’ve got to kill big feller there before he kills us.”

  “How?”

  Nev leaned out a little more, revealing the manacles on his wrists. “Kick him as hard as you can, John. Kick him in the head. Keep on kicking.”

  “That guy’s head will be as hard as granite. If I don’t knock him unconscious with the first kick he’ll tear me apart.”

  “I’d do it, if I was as close as you.”

  “I bet you would.” The way I said it plainly sang out: I bet you damn well wouldn’t!

  Nev got all twitchy as excitement fizzed inside him. “Choke the bastard to death. Use the chain.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Stick your fingers in his eyes. Blind him.”

  “Why don’t you just ride over him on your pizza-delivery scooter?”

  “Don’t argue, you two,” Katy whispered. “John, please, we must do something. If we don’t, he’s going to hurt us.”

  “Okay. Okay. Let me think.”

  “Stand on his throat.”

  “Nev, shush—just shush, all right?”

  What if I could drive my fingers into Goliath’s eye sockets? Maybe I could gouge away until he couldn’t see? I’d have the advantage then. Sighted vs. Unsighted = no contest.

  I took a deep breath. “Okay, both of you stay quiet. Here goes.”

  I took a step toward the sleeping killer. He didn’t move, so I took another step. Now…if I jab both my thumbs into his eyes at the same time… Then disaster struck. A loud clank reverberated around the chamber. This was followed by the hum of electric motors.

  “The claw!” Nev shou
ted.

  Goliath’s eyes snapped open and he was up on his feet in a heartbeat. Instantly Nev and Katy vanished from sight. They didn’t want the psycho spotting them.

  His fierce gaze raked the place, searching for the source of the clanking sound. When he saw the huge steel claw, which must have been big enough to hoist a car, he immediately marched toward it. He dragged me along without even noticing I was there. I grunted as the collar painfully jerked me forward. All I could do was follow. He approached the pile of detritus that must have been dumped by the claw on earlier occasions.

  Goliath watched the machine at work. Cables lowered the claw into the water, so that it clunked up against the metal grille that covered the river’s exit tunnel. Sticks, branches, plastic bags, bottles—all kinds of junk had accumulated there, after being washed into drains by rainfall earlier in the day. There was even a child’s sit-on tractor made from bright red plastic. Goliath carefully watched as cables lowered the open claw from the ceiling until it splashed down into the river. Now cogs spun as they closed the massive claw around debris that had accumulated in front of the grating. This was like a gigantic version of those machines found at funfairs where children use a claw to try and grab toys from inside a glass case. A moment later, the cables hoisted the claw upward. Water cascaded from its booty that had been grabbed from the river. The claw then trundled along a rail that hung beneath the basement’s ceiling until it was over the concrete deck. There the claw opened. All kinds of debris fell from the claw to hit the concrete with a splattering sound. Branches, cans, rags, massive clumps of green riverweed, the child’s tractor. Then something else hit the concrete with a loud slap.

  Goliath stared at the objects. I stared, too. Because there were two corpses. A pair of women, with drenched hair sticking to their faces, and their eyes wide open. What I noticed more than anything else were their collars. They were chained together at the neck, too.

  —

  The giant lurched forward, those massive hands outstretched. He grasped the ten-foot chain that connected the two dead women to each other and dragged the corpses from the pile of wet junk that the claw had scooped from the river.