Tortures of the Damned

by Hunter Shea

  I’m deaf!

  A scrabbling panic struggled for control. She bit down on her tongue to keep from screaming. Buck flinched, his face a mask of concern and confusion.

  She touched at her ears, rubbing her lobes. Her ears didn’t even feel like they were a part of her body. They belonged to someone else, that someone now in possession of her ability to hear.

  Hurrying to her feet, she looked around at the destruction. Two smoking wrecks were bleak reminders of what Buck had done to save them. It was disorienting, seeing the small flame that still burned in the trunk of one of the cars but not being able to hear its familiar crackle. The sun was in for the night. She wondered how long she’d been unconscious. On the bright side, the feral cats were gone.

  The explosion must have done something to her ears. She’d been to concerts so loud, it took days for her hearing to return to normal. But she could always still hear. This time, the silence was complete. It didn’t feel temporary at all.

  Buck’s hands reached out for her. She studied his face, watched the gyrations of his mouth to no avail. She’d never been any good at lip-reading. Tears bubbled up out of frustration as much as fear.

  “I can’t hear!” she said, saying the words but having no idea how they sounded.

  He steadied her shaking hands by grabbing hold of them. Taking a deep breath, he spoke to her.

  Did he say, can you hear me?

  She shook her head.

  His mouth opened wider. Can you hear me now?

  No.

  He snapped his fingers right next to her ears. Nothing registered. He looked devastated when she said, “No. I can’t hear a thing.”

  Buck wrapped his arms around her, pressing her head to his barrel chest. By the vibrations in his chest, she could tell he was saying something.

  When she pulled away, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, it was easy to see him say, “I’m so sorry.”

  She pressed a finger over his lips. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You saved us . . . again. I love you.”

  He told her he loved her, his eyes red and wet with tears of his own.

  Alexiana grabbed his arm. He kept talking. She pointed behind him. When he turned, he stepped in front of her. There was a tap on her thigh. Looking down, she saw his hand twitch.

  The gun!

  Her Beretta was still in her back pocket. She put it in his hand.

  The massive dog put its front paws on the hood of a Nissan Sentra. It stood taller than Buck. She saw its black lips curl back from bloodstained teeth and knew it was sending out a warning growl.

  The gun recoiled in Buck’s hand. Alexiana saw the rose-red bloom at the dog’s throat as the bullet burrowed its way through the dog’s flesh and muscle.

  Then something hit her from behind, and she screamed as hard as she could.

  102

  Max heard the steady clop of horse hooves before he saw them. He spun just in time to see a tight pack of racehorses barrel down the street, angling around cars and nimbly overstepping any and all objects scattered about the blacktop.

  “Dad, we have to get somewhere safe. I watched them at the track when those bombs first hit,” Rey said. “They’re vicious. They were attacking people in their cars, tearing them apart.”

  His mother muttered a quick, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

  There looked to be five in all, black and brown Standard-breds that could outrun any man and had the power to go through walls if need be.

  Max looked to the small shops to their left. Most had iron grates pulled down and locked tight. Across the street was a parking lot.

  The horses rode hard, galloping closer. They hadn’t spotted them yet, but Max knew it was only a matter of seconds until they did.

  Frantically looking down the row of darkened shops, he shouted, “Over there!”

  An old vacuum repair shop was at the corner. It was the one business not encased by protective grates.

  “Go!” his father said.

  The horses sounded as if they were right on top of them as they made a beeline for the repair shop. Rey somehow managed to keep up. Max pulled Gabby so hard, he worried he might dislocate her shoulder.

  Better that than being left to face those horses.

  One of them let loose with a heart-stopping whinny. It sounded like nothing in nature—more of a demonic wail from the bowels of Hell.

  Max jumped in front of his father and swung the bat, smashing the glass door to pieces. His mother made sure Gabby went inside first, then Rey. “Get in, Max,” she said. When he saw her eyes go wider than dinner plates, he spun around just in time to face a brown stallion as it used its head to pound his shoulder, spinning him to the ground.

  That was followed by a sharp crack as his father shot at the horse behind it. The crazed animal made an ugly, high-pitched shriek, swerving to avoid them.

  Max’s shoulder throbbed. He tried to lift his bat, but the arm that had been smashed by the horse tingled with pins and needles. Every nerve in his shoulder thrummed.

  His mother jerked him through the broken door. His father backed inside, his shotgun pointed at the retreating horses.

  “Get to the rear of the store,” he shouted. “They’re coming back.”

  “Let me help you, Dad,” Rey said, hobbling to the front door. He used the rifle as a makeshift cane.

  “No, help your mother find a back room, something with a solid door.”

  Hefting the bat with his good arm, Max said, “Why don’t you give me your rifle?”

  Gabby yelled at the top of her lungs as a horse leaped over a fire hydrant and hurled itself headfirst through the shop’s main window. It skidded to a gangly halt, ramming the small counter, sending the old but solid cash register sailing.

  The horse flailed as if it were on ice, unable to regain its balance. Its huge head snapped back and forth, nipping at anyone who made a sound, missing them by inches.

  “Shoot it, Daniel!” his mother shouted.

  “I can’t!”

  Max saw that if his father’s shot went wide, he’d hit his mother and sister. He ran to the horse, shouting something unintelligible, even to his own ears. He swung the bat upward and the knob connected with the horse’s bottom jaw with a stomach-lurching crunch. Before it could react and try to take a chunk out of him, he caught it again on the side of its head. Blood fanned the nearby wall.

  Working like a possessed one-armed machine, Max delivered blow after blow until the horse’s legs went out from under it and the rest of its body followed.

  There was no time to gloat. Rey howled, “Here come the rest!”

  He and his father opened fire into the onyx streets. The beat of the horses’ hooves quickened.

  Max shouted, “Mom, there’s a door over there,” pointing to a red door beyond the rows of unrepaired vacuum cleaners. She ran with Gabby.

  He turned to face the shattered window and saw death riding for them.

  103

  Alexiana’s garbled cry startled Buck. She was on the ground, shouting something that didn’t make sense.

  The mastiff dropped as if it had been deboned in a flash. One less thing to worry about.

  He hurried to lift her up. There was a bleeding gash on her forehead, the fresh blood in contrast to the dried blood and other cuts all over her head and face. Pebbles of safety glass glittered in the wound.

  “What happened?” he said, enunciating as best he could so she could read his lips. It was dark as a cemetery at night, but the glow from the fading car fires gave an orange cast to her face.

  “Hit me,” she replied, looking everywhere.

  “What hit you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She was shouting, but there was no way for her to know that. For the moment, he was just grateful they could communicate. There would be plenty of time for feeling guilty over what he’d done to her later.

  He grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

  They ran around the dead mastif
f, heading to an intersection that would take them through a shortcut to South Broadway. Daniel once told him his father went down that street to buy live chickens and goats so he could butcher his own meat. It cost a lot less than buying meat prepackaged in a supermarket. All you needed was the know-how and the stomach for the work.

  If they followed that route, they could take South Broadway all the way down to the Bronx border. That would bring them closer to the city and, with any luck, official help.

  But Daniel and Elizabeth were surely headed the other way, looking for the hideout of the Nine Judges. He was relieved to not see any of their bodies by the wreckage. His only worry now was that they hadn’t left the scene of their own volition. What if the Nine Judges, alerted by the explosion, had come riding to the scene?

  He squeezed Alexiana’s hand to get her attention. He pointed to the way to the Bronx, then over past City Hall toward Chicken Island.

  She tugged him along to where the Padillas would have gone.

  “All right. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”

  He wasn’t sure she understood everything he’d said. He’d have to find paper and something to write with. It was easy enough to break into any store.

  A putrid, bitter odor washed over them, making him wince.

  Skunk. One of the little bastards had just sprayed real close.

  Maybe I should find a place to stay until daylight. Lord knows, we both need to give our bodies a rest. If we’re lucky, Alex’s hearing will come back a little, too.

  There were no residences nearby, just stores and restaurants. At least a restaurant would have some food.

  The skunk smell seemed to double in pungency.

  “Crap, there has to be a bunch of them,” he said. Alexiana wasn’t facing him and didn’t react. He wished to God and Allah and Vishnu that he had a flashlight, but the ones he’d brought were in Rey’s cart and that was nowhere to be seen.

  Scanning the ground, he kept a wary eye out for puffy, white-streaked tails. The skunks were close, of that there was no doubt. His eyes watered from their scattershot spray. Breathing through his mouth only made him taste it as well as smell it.

  Alexiana tapped him frantically on the shoulder. He looked up.

  Now he knew what had knocked her to the ground before.

  The skunks were quite visible in the dark, as were the raccoons, the bandit-faced critters as big as beagles. But they weren’t at their feet.

  No, they had taken higher ground, the better to see eye to eye. On the hood and roof of every car they stood, black eyes trained on Buck and Alexiana. He checked the shells he had left for the shotgun in his shirt pocket.

  This was not going to end well.

  104

  Daniel didn’t waste time. A passive man all his life who believed in stricter gun laws, he couldn’t pull the shotgun’s trigger fast enough. His damaged arm pulsed with agonizing throbs from the recoil. The four remaining horses were straight from an apocalyptic fresco: wild, flowing manes; manic eyes; and unbridled power. He caught one in the center of its bared chest. The shells did nothing to slow it down.

  Rey shouted, “Go for their legs.” He took a shot at the tangle of powerful legs but must have missed.

  His son was right. As incredibly strong as they were, their legs were vulnerable.

  The only problem was, they were too late. Daniel was knocked aside as a black horse dove through the shattered window. Max and Rey were scattered to the other side of the shop, falling among old vacuum cleaners.

  The rest of the horses followed on an unyielding path to the rear of the store. Daniel’s side ached. He’d been hit so hard, he thought for sure there had to be internal bleeding. Shaking it off, he looked to make sure Max and Rey were all right. For the moment, they were hidden in a pile of vacuum cleaners, but he saw them struggling to get themselves free of the mass of broken appliances.

  “Stay where you are,” Daniel yelled.

  Now that they had contained themselves in a small space, the horses went wild. They smashed the counter to splinters, knocked down shelves and spare parts mounted on pegs on the walls. It was absolute mayhem. They whinnied and stomped, oblivious now to the humans they had sought so desperately to attack in the first place.

  A brown horse with white on its nose and ankles turned to face Daniel. This close, he could see thick, dark fluid leaking from its eyes and smell its foul breath. Its mouth opened wide, revealing blunt, dangerous teeth.

  He aimed low, taking the horse by its knees. It fell immediately to the floor, its head shattering the tile floor on contact.

  Daniel jumped at the sound of another shot. Rey fired twice, missing the mark at first, but clipping the hind leg of a chocolate stallion enough to send it sliding into a glass display case. Shards of glass exploded as if a bomb had been placed inside. A slash of heat burned Daniel’s arm. A straight crimson line appeared on his forearm as if by magic as his flesh split apart.

  One of the remaining horses made a beeline for his sons. He couldn’t dare shoot it without hitting them. Max rose from his hiding place, shaking off a vacuum cleaner whose handle had attached itself to his arm. He swung his bat one-handed, hitting the horse across its nose. It plunged ahead, fastening its teeth on his shoulder.

  “Aaaaaaaggghhhh!” Max screamed.

  Rey tried to help but collapsed—either his foot was caught in the tangle of vacuums or his energy was spent.

  Daniel spotted the other horse coming toward him and fired. One of its front legs disintegrated. Its forward momentum kept it coming. He jumped over its carcass as it skidded by.

  The horse wouldn’t let Max’s shoulder go. The bat fell from his hand.

  “Get the hell off my son!” Daniel shouted, knowing full well the horse didn’t give a damn about him. All any of the animals knew was the lust for flesh. He placed the barrel of the shotgun against its side, and fired. Blood and gore shot out like water from a busted fire hydrant, covering him from head to toe.

  Still, it wouldn’t let go of Max. Whatever disease had been eating away at the brains of the animals, it was powerful enough to override their instincts and keep their bodies moving even when they were catastrophically injured.

  Striding forward, he jammed the gun under its neck, pulling the trigger again. Daniel’s ears rang, a high-pitched chime that dominated all other sound. This time, it did let go as its head flopped back, barely attached to its neck.

  The weeping laceration in Max’s shoulder needed stitches. His son stood on steady legs, biting back the pain.

  The sound of broken, dying horses was enough to raise the hairs on Daniel’s arms.

  “All right, Max, just hang in there. We’ll get your mother to fix you up. Why don’t you sit down?”

  Max nodded toward the open window. “I’m not getting comfortable here, Dad.”

  Rey’s coughing helped Daniel find him within the rubble. He latched on to his arms and pulled him out. Something hot and wet flew from Rey’s mouth, covering Daniel’s thighs. He was already drenched in the spray from the horses. It was impossible to discern what Rey had just coughed up.

  “Just hold on to me, Rey. We’re going to find your mother and sister.”

  With Rey on one arm and Max the other, Daniel couldn’t carry his shotgun. It didn’t matter much anyway. He was down to one shell.

  Woozy himself, Daniel half-carried his boys to the back of the shop, stepping around the writhing horses.

  105

  Buck knew that by nature, skunks and raccoons were docile, shy, terrified of humans. Nature had been turned on its ass in their insane new world, and this was proof.

  The gathering of night-loving, garbage-picking critters bared their sharp teeth at them. Poised as they were on top of the surrounding cars and trucks, they were in a perfect position to let fly at Buck and Alexiana in some sensitive places, their throats and faces in particular.

  Most of the raccoons were fat and bloated. They’d probably been feasting on so muc
h food left to waste, it was a miracle they’d been able to clamber up the side of a car. If they leaped at them, gravity would take hold before they found their mark.

  The skunks were another story. He never realized how vicious they could appear, their enlarged rat faces pinched with predatory hunger.

  Alexiana trembled against his back. He couldn’t imagine how this was for her, unable to hear, the rest of her senses in disarray.

  It was hard to tell in the dark, but there looked to be well over twenty raccoons and skunks in the audience.

  “What madness is bringing you two together?” he said to the nearest raccoon, a raggedy beast of a thing whose claws scratched away the surface of the car’s paint.

  What the hell did they drop on us that could turn Mother Nature into the devil’s army? Buck thought.

  He took a tentative step, and the animals inched forward, hissing.

  Well, they’re certainly not going to let us walk on by.

  Turning to Alexiana, he said, “Stay as close as you can to me.” When she gave him a look that said she didn’t understand, he hooked her hand under his belt. “Don’t let go. You understand?”

  She nodded yes.

  Jesus H. Christ. I have to run through a gauntlet of fucking storybook animals. What’s next? Do I have to shoot Bambi?

  Flexing his hand on the grip of his pistol, he took several deep breaths, getting ready for a mad dash down Yonkers Avenue. Raccoons and skunks were pretty slow. Unless the gas used to make them crazy also gave them super strength and speed, they’d make it to the KFC down the block. Buck could shoot out the lock and they’d have a safe place to hide for a while. If they were lucky, and luck was no longer their friend, the stench of spoiled chicken would be held in check by the tight seals on the industrial refrigerators. If not, they were going to be in for a long, stomach-churning night.

  But before they could take their first step, he had to show the critters there was reason to fear him. Sure, they had the numbers, but he had the firepower. Not enough to take them all on, but enough to make a point.