Tortures of the Damned

by Hunter Shea

  The slow ascent up the pitch-black stairwell was getting to be too much for Alexiana. It was one thing not to be able to hear the echoes of their shoes scraping against the metal steps. It was another not to be able to see, as well. It felt like being inside a sensory deprivation chamber.

  She kept four fingers looped around Buck’s belt, felt his back heave like an overworked bellows. He wasn’t a young man anymore. The most physical activity he usually did was to bring the food shopping bags in from the car. He’d held up so far, but she was worried about him.

  And now she had to worry about his psyche. Knowing him, he blamed himself for her hearing loss. For all either of them knew, it would come back, though with each passing hour and nary a single sound, not even a distant ringing, she feared the worst. He’d done what he had to do to protect them, knowing the blast could have killed him. He’d told her to stay back, but those feral cats! She couldn’t watch him struggle like that alone.

  Buck stumbled and almost pitched forward. Alexiana tugged hard, steadying him.

  The only saving grace was that they hadn’t encountered any animals or people. What if their footsteps had awakened a den of sleeping rats, who were at this moment slinking up the stairs to them?

  Shuddering, she tried to keep her thoughts positive. There was no way of knowing how far they had ascended. Buck obviously wanted to get close to the top. This wasn’t just about finding a safe place to rest. It was about being able to see what had happened around them, and potentially where to go next. The higher they went, the better.

  But she knew that if they didn’t stop soon, her flesh was going to crawl right off her bones. The lack of sensory input and the niggling fears gnawing at the back of her brain made every nerve in her body hum.

  What brushed against her ankle?

  She must have blurted something out because Buck stopped. When the feeling didn’t return, she tapped his back to tell him to keep going. It might have only been a scrap of paper or her own out-of-control imagination. Anything was possible when you were deaf and blind. The combination took panic to an entirely new realm.

  They continued walking, slow and steady, one of her hands on the rail, the other on Buck. When they came to a landing, Buck felt around for a door. A sliver of darkness lighter than the pitch they’d been in almost made her shout out with joy.

  Walking into a long, carpeted hallway lined with doors, Alexiana thought her legs were going to go out from under her. A heady cocktail of relief and exhaustion bowled her over. If she hadn’t been holding on to Buck, she would be on the floor.

  He used the flat end of the crowbar to pry open the door of an office at the end of the hallway. Inside was a metal desk, circa 1970s government-issue, its surface covered with plastic In and Out trays and an ink blotter. Several battered chairs on casters and a bookshelf lined with more cactus plants than books took up the rest of the meager space.

  Alexiana collapsed into one of the chairs, hanging her head between her knees. When she looked up, Buck was sitting, as well, though he’d rolled his chair to the window.

  112

  The naked man sat on the top step making slow, measured movements. Moonlight glinted off the meat cleaver in his right hand. His body was so filthy, it was impossible to tell his race. His uncut penis poked out of a nest of wiry black hairs. He coughed, blood cascading from his mouth and running down his deflated chest. Elizabeth could tell he’d once been in very good shape, but the sickness had been wasting him away, muscle by muscle.

  When Daniel called to her through the door, the man smiled with crimson teeth and put a finger to his lips. Shh.

  Gabby tried to hide behind her. Elizabeth heard her tap on the door soft enough so the crazy, sick man couldn’t hear.

  Daniel was trying to jerk the door open, to no avail.

  “What do you want from us?” she said to the stranger.

  He sucked on his teeth, one hand smearing the blood across his chest. He had close-cropped hair and the makings of a beard, flecks of white here and there. His wide nostrils flared with each breath, as if he was trying to absorb as much oxygen as he could with each inhalation. Something rattled in his chest, wet and rheumy. Elizabeth had heard that sound countless times in the hospital when patients came in with pneumonia.

  Somewhere between running into the shop and out the back door, she’d lost her gun. She had no way of defending herself. All she could do was occupy him and wait for Daniel to arrive.

  “Are you hurt or sick? I have medicine inside that could help you,” she continued. “I’m a nurse. That’s a lot of blood you’re coughing up. You need help.”

  He spat on the step between his feet, dragging the knife over the concrete. The sound made Elizabeth’s hair stand on end. The man stood up with a grunt and took a faltering step toward them.

  “Please, don’t hurt us. Just put the knife down. There’s nothing we can do to harm you. I only want to help. Why don’t you tell me your name?”

  The man didn’t respond, just pinned her back with his demented stare. Gabby whimpered behind her. Elizabeth whispered from the side of her mouth, “If he comes down here, I want you to run past him as fast as you can. Your father and brothers are right around the corner.”

  “I don’t want to leave you, Mommy.”

  “Just do what I say, okay?”

  If Elizabeth had to let him stab her to death, so be it. All that mattered was that Gabby was safe.

  The man’s voice, that of a drowning man, startled her. “I don’t want you,” he said. “I’m going to fuck your girl’s brains out. And you get to watch.”

  His head reared back and he let loose with a wild man’s scream. With his knife raised high, he ran down the stairs.

  113

  Miguel listened to the men down the dark hallway laughing and yelling, sometimes arguing. They were playing some kind of card game and there would be loud accusations of cheating, followed by the frantic sounds of scuffling. Things would die down, and then everything would start up again.

  He pulled his knees as close as he could to his chest, resting his chin on his kneecaps.

  Earlier, a boy who looked to be Max’s age threw a warm bottle of water to him, along with a box of raisins. He didn’t say a word, just tossed him something to eat and drink and left.

  He was so scared, he couldn’t stop crying. He tried his best to keep his sobs low, so the bad gang people wouldn’t hear him. Maybe they would forget he was even here and he could find a way to open the gate.

  His mom and dad would be here soon. He had never been so sure of anything in his life. They wouldn’t leave him here. He pictured their faces, and Max and Rey and Gabby, thought about family vacations or just sitting in the living room watching TV. If he closed his eyes and concentrated hard enough, he could even make himself believe that he was back home and they were laughing, watching The Big Bang Theory. He didn’t understand half of what the people on the show were talking about, but hearing his family laugh always made him chuckle along with them.

  He sat between his mother and father on the couch, watching The Big Bang Theory, sipping on a Capri Sun, and waiting for Gabby to get popcorn for all of them at the commercial break.

  114

  It was downright surreal looking over the city and not seeing a single light. Not even a stray fire. It was like looking into a mine chamber. He could see across to the cliffs of the Palisades and over as far as the Tappan Zee Bridge that connected Westchester and Rockland counties.

  How many cars are on that bridge that will never make it to the other side?

  The Tappan Zee Bridge was infamous for jumpers. So many people had stopped their cars in the center of the span and taken nosedives into the strong current of the Hudson that they had to erect higher barriers and post signs advising people to call the suicide hotline.

  Of course, that wasn’t enough to stop a person set on killing themselves, but he guessed it made the county feel like they’d done all they could. Buck wondered how many peo
ple had jumped compared to the Golden Gate Bridge. And what was it about bridges that appealed to the suicidal?

  “You’re getting maudlin,” he said aloud.

  His feet were propped on the windowsill and he sat as far back in the chair as it would go. Alexiana was asleep in the chair next to him, her head on his shoulder.

  He should probably get some sleep while it was still dark. Everything would be different when the sun was up. They’d have a course of action, a solid direction to take.

  At least that was the hope. If there’d been any kind of military assistance, they would have had generators and lights. If they could just spot a pocket of people, a group they could join, everyone looking out for one another’s backs, that would be enough.

  And then there was Miguel and the Nine Judges. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t try to find the boy. If the Padillas had survived the night, and in his gut he knew they had, they would be close. Even before everything went irretrievably haywire, they’d become his adopted family. He wasn’t going to abandon them. He held no ill will toward them even if they had up and left after the explosion. The smart assumption would be that he and Alexiana had bought the farm. They had a son to find, kids to protect. They were the future, even before the shit storm. Buck was a relic. Alex was a saint fool enough to hitch her wagon to him. He chuckled, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

  They would need to get more ammo in the morning. The police station was just across the street. Surely they’d have left something behind. Then they needed food. There was a greasy diner close by. They’d raid the pantry for canned food and water. What were the odds of one of those oversized diner cookies wrapped in cellophane still being good to eat? His stomach rumbled at the thought.

  Buck stroked Alexiana’s hair, taking in the natural scent of her, sans fruity soaps and perfume. He never loved her more than he did at this moment. Resting his head against hers, he closed his eyes and thought of better days.

  115

  Daniel heard a man scream, then Elizabeth and Gabby. Heart ramming his chest, he sprinted toward the sound, jumping over and nearly falling into a pile of plump trash bags.

  Gabby’s steady squeals were a beacon. He skidded into a chest-high fence. Looking down, he saw a filthy, naked man pushing Elizabeth against a wall. Gabby was being crushed behind her.

  “Hey!” Daniel shouted to distract the man.

  He looked up at him, and Daniel knew this man had checked out a long time ago. One eye twitched, madness burning behind it. Daniel also saw the cleaver in his hand, his wife holding on to the man’s wrist to keep it from plunging into her neck. There was blood everywhere, but he couldn’t tell who it belonged to.

  “Get the hell off my wife!”

  He ran around the fence, keeping his eye on the man, looking for the break to the stairs.

  “I don’t want your wife,” the man replied coolly, a devil’s grin on his grimy face.

  Daniel had never felt such rage before.

  He hopped over the fence, howling with his own newfound madness. His foot caught the edge of a step and his legs went out from under him. His bad arm thwacked the concrete, igniting sparks in his head. He skidded down the remaining steps on his back.

  The man laughed at his clumsy rescue and turned back to Elizabeth.

  “Come on, lady, no sense hogging that hot little piece of ass. Haven’t you heard? It’s a new world. Everybody gets to fuck whoever they want!”

  He drove the knife into her. Elizabeth twisted her body, the knife grazing her upper arm, slicing open a red, wet smile on her flesh.

  “Get away from her!” Elizabeth shouted.

  Daniel was back on his feet. He saw Gabby’s terrified eyes as she tried to make herself as small as possible behind her mother’s back.

  There was no way this bastard was going to lay one finger on her.

  Daniel lunged at the man, grabbing the short hairs on his head, pulling him back until he could hear the roots start to give way. The man spun around, slashing at him with the cleaver. It whistled through the empty space between them, just missing Daniel’s chest.

  Spotting his one chance to end this quickly, Daniel reared back and caught the man as hard as he could in the balls. Air and blood exploded from his mouth, all over Daniel. He staggered into the wall, his hands cupping his shattered testicles.

  “Run, get out of here, now!” Daniel said to his wife and daughter.

  Elizabeth tugged at his arm. “Come on.”

  “I’ll be with you in a minute. There’s an alley just over there. Follow it until you get to the next street. Head for the repair shop and go to the back room. Knock twice, stop, and two more times. The boys will let you in.”

  “But, Daniel—”

  “I said go!”

  Elizabeth gave him a pleading look, but he was past giving in to anything but what he felt needed to be done.

  “Come on, Gabby. Daddy will be right behind us,” she said, ushering her up the stairs.

  Daniel turned to the naked man, who had taken a knee, coughing. Thick gobs of phlegm and blood spattered the ground.

  He was sick, just like Rey.

  But there was a sickness far more cancerous in the man’s brain. Daniel couldn’t just walk away, knowing he’d still be out here, waiting for them. And if not them, another innocent family, or child.

  “What’s the matter?” the man said in a high, pained voice. “You don’t wanna share?”

  Daniel picked up the cleaver, wavering it in his hand, judging its weight.

  “Put your hands over your head,” Daniel said.

  The man grimaced. “You broke my fucking balls, asshole. Go fuck yourself.”

  Daniel stepped between his writhing legs. “I said put your hands over your head.”

  A thick gob of red spit hit Daniel in the chest.

  Daniel sliced the man’s forearms, one after the other, filleting the flesh down to the ropy muscle. His arms retracted as he yowled.

  “Thank you,” Daniel said, bringing the cleaver down on the man’s genitals, cleaving his penis and scrotum in half. Thick gouts of blood gushed from the fatal wound. Daniel hacked again, this time at the man’s inner thigh, hoping to find a major artery. On the third try, he did. A fountain of blood cascaded over his head with a sharp hiss. He jumped back to avoid the spray.

  The man’s pain was so extreme, he couldn’t even get a scream out as he twitched on the floor, limbs jittering.

  Daniel watched and waited for the man to die.

  116

  Rey jerked awake as if he’d been pulled by a lifeguard from a riptide. He grabbed Max by the arm.

  “Where is everyone?” Rey asked, eyes darting around the semi-dark, alien room.

  Max sighed. “Pop went to get Mom and Gabby. They went out the back and the door is stuck. They should be here any minute.”

  “What about Miguel?”

  Max brought his face close to his. “You don’t remember about Miguel?”

  Rey tried to think. Something didn’t feel right. He wanted his family. What was he supposed to remember about Miguel?

  “No. Is he with Mom, too?”

  Max stared at him, his lips pressed into a tight line. Finally, he said, “Yeah, she took him and Gabby outside.”

  “They’ll be here soon?”

  “Yeah.”

  Rey took in a deep breath. He expected to cough. When he didn’t, he took another, and another. Faster and faster, he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. It was if they’d been starved and were finally allowed to feast.

  “Dude, slow down, you’re going to make yourself pass out or something,” Max said, placing his hand on his chest.

  “No,” Rey said. “It feels good . . . to breathe.”

  His heart marched a double beat, overflowing with life-giving oxygen as it soared through his veins.

  Everyone would be back soon. He couldn’t wait to show them how much better he felt.

  117

  Alexiana wok
e up because she thought she heard something. Opening her eyes, she realized it had just been a dream. She still couldn’t hear a thing, not even Buck’s snoring. The man buzzed away like a band saw every time he closed his eyes.

  Now that she was up, she really had to go to the bathroom. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d peed. Had it been two days ago? It couldn’t have been. She was definitely dehydrated. She would have to drink as much as she could tomorrow.

  Gently, she pulled away from Buck, taking the Beretta from her back pocket. There were two bullets left. She hoped to God she didn’t need to use them as she went into the hallway in search of the bathroom. Her foot hit something, sending it gliding across the carpet.

  It was an iPhone. It must have fallen from someone’s pocket when they rushed to get out of the building. People used to camp out for days waiting for the new version to come out. Now it was just another piece of useless trash. On a whim, she tried to turn it on. The display screen remained dark, vacant.

  Dropping it to the floor, she jumped back a step at the huddled, shadowy figures at the end of the hall.

  Her first bizarre instinct was, Are they ghosts? She’d been a sucker for all those ghost-hunting shows on TV and the programs about celebrities and their paranormal encounters. Buck said that stuff was eating IQ points, one episode at a time.

  The shadows moved closer, and there was a sudden burst of flame. Alexiana raised her gun. Something waved in the air, a black stick, or were they arms? The floating fire came closer, illuminating what was behind it.

  She put the gun down.

  A teenaged girl carried a metal bowl. The fire was contained in the bowl, scraps of paper thrown in as a makeshift flashlight. Behind her was an older man and a woman who could be her mother. The girl and woman both had long onyx hair, aquiline noses, and deep-set eyes.

  The woman’s lips moved. Alexiana shook her head. She said, “I’m sorry, I can’t hear,” hoping it came out right.

  The trio looked past her. Alexiana spun around. Buck stood in the hallway, gun in hand but pointed at the floor.