by J. Z. Foster
“We need to find Ted, and you’ll have to hold him down while Richard and I feed him the holy water,” Beth said to the wight.
“A trivial task.” Then the wight tilted its head. “After, surely, we will feast? Preferably on the flesh of some mammal. You still have some enslaved, yes? Or have they finally risen up to throw off the yolk of their masters?”
“Uh, yeah. I guess we still have cows and pigs enslaved.” Richard furrowed his brow.
“Excellent. I will gorge myself at the earliest of opportunities. And what of these ‘junked food’—will they be plentiful as well?” The wight’s three-forked tongue licked the air and twisted as it spoke.
“All the fried and dipped chips you can eat Mr. Wight, and maybe even a burger or two,” Richard assured him.
“Then let us hastily commence our kicking of the spirit’s ass.” The wight planted its foot on the first wooden step leading out of the basement. “My hunger for the budda of hunny grows more terrible by the moment.”
Chapter 7
Minges started fanning himself with his wide-brimmed hat the moment he sat down. He had just been outside for the last fifteen minutes on a bathroom break, and came back with a bottle of water and a paper cup. He gasped deeply a few times, but his cheeks were flushed and he looked as if he might vomit.
“You okay there, sir?” Richard was keenly aware that the man looked as if he might spill his dinner then and there across the table while Richard was stuck in the chair.
And if he throws up, I’m going to throw up. I always throw up when someone else throws up.
“Need some water?”
Minges wheezed and coughed. “You get up there in years and sometimes you get some of those, what I like to call ’em, how-do-ya-do illnesses. Like a sudden kick in the nuts that twists your guts an—” He was interrupted by a dry gag.
“I think you might need to get that checked out? You want me to call the officers in?”
Oh man, is he drunk?
Minges shook his head and waved him off as he continued to fan himself. He poured water into a paper cup and gulped it down. “I got them all, son. Bad heart, bad lungs, bad stomach. That last one there’s why I carry a little air cleaner around with me. No trouble with a little gas between boys, right? But we don’t want them ladies getting a whiff, do we?” He laughed loudly but it turned back into a fit of coughing.
“Uh, yeah, sure?” Richard was also keenly aware of the smell; it had been there for about the last twenty minutes. “Maybe we could crack a window though…”
“Window? What window?”
“The slider right behind you.”
Minges turned around to glance at it. “Right, right. Must have missed that on the way in. I think the law would prefer if that window kept itself the way it is there son. We can’t do nothing ‘bout it.”
Richard gave a weak nod. “Yeah.”
“You’re locked up in here tight, boy, gotta get that into your head. You ain’t going nowhere. Best you can do is make it easier on yourself and give me something to bite onto, yeah?” Minges seemed to wait for that to sink in. “So how about you go on ahead and tell me what happened after you got that old boy out of that cellar and up the stairs? Let’s not spare them details, yeah?”
“You believe me? About the wight?”
He leaned forward on his elbows to stare, his blue-gray eyes piercing Richard’s. “I tend to believe you ain’t no liar, son. But I wouldn’t go so far as to say you ain’t losing your mind. S’okay though, son. I’ve met more than a few crazies in my time. Ain’t such bad fellas. Maybe we’ll get you locked up in one of them hospitals—more of a resort really. Get you all them funny pages and dragon-dungeoning as you’d want, you’d love it. But let’s stay on track here and get this business done. How’d you keep it all together in all this? You said that you came face to face with a thing dragged from the pit, and you were discussing corn chips. That sound right to you, son? Can a man that’s afraid to talk to girls really do some business with something like that? Clearly you got a wire loose.”
“I don’t know.” It hurt Richard to admit it. “You’re right. I mean, I kept thinking it myself, how I’m just simply not afraid. What does that mean? I just felt like this is what I’m supposed to do. This is my meaning in life. Am I losing my mind? I’ve heard before that it proves you’re sane if you have to wonder if you’re insane.”
Minges bellowed a laugh. “Pretty sure that last part ain’t true, son. But enough with the musings.” He thumped a heavy hand down onto the table in front of him, making Richard jump. He then leaned close enough for Richard to see the pits on his cheeks and the tiny flecks of black in his blue-gray eyes. “Let’s hear what happened next.”
“Surely the flesh of the tribes of the Mediterranean—their skin, mixed with their particular taste of sweat, offers the most delicious of the flavors of man.” The wight reflected on that thought, as if to reassure itself. “If questioned for the best flavor of meat, I would surely say that of the Greeks.”
“But we didn’t ask. No one asked,” Beth shot back at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be tracking the ghost for us anyway?”
Richard wondered if the wight noticed her disgust and just chose to ignore it; perhaps he even enjoyed it. Either way, it didn’t seem to affect the wight as they moved through the old house and into the foyer.
Despite its size, the wight crept with a grace that didn’t cause any of the boards to groan, nor did it seem that Beth’s light was needed for him to move quickly and quietly through the nearly pitch-black kitchen.
This is one of the things that eat men. It sees in the dark and moves in complete silence. This is why the old kingdoms feared the dark.
Richard wasn’t quite sure what he thought about that. The wight took a whiff of the air and slunk quietly forward. Richard noted that it walked on the tips of its arched toes and sometimes used its fingers to go on all fours, leaving only faint tracks in the dust.
“Beth,” Richard said in a whisper and pulled her back a few feet. “He’s just really lonely. You don’t have to be so mean.” In truth, he was trying to convince himself as much as her.
“Lonely? Richard, he was going to eat us! And now you want to chat with it?”
“Well, yeah. But do you hate a bear if it attacks someone, or do we just say it’s just their nature? Let’s just... let’s just be a little nicer to him, maybe just keep him going in more of a corn-chip direction?”
“You’re taking this whole situation very calmly, and that in itself is unsettling. Here we are, holding hands to make sure we don’t get wracked with an evil spell, all while following a monster that likes to eat people and looking for my possessed cameraman. And you’re worried about me being mean to the man-eater?”
“Yeah…” He faked a happy expression. Maybe Beth understood, as she let her own annoyance drip away and just gave Richard a reassuring smile.
“Male, female. The spectre is nearby.” The wight pressed the front door open and stepped out onto the porch. It stretched out on its legs, standing at least a foot taller than Richard. It stuck its nose up and sniffed the air. “I smell something... hot?”
“Maybe it’s Ted’s gun? He was firing it,” Beth whispered back.
The wight twisted its head toward Beth “What’s a guhn?”
There wasn’t a chance to reply.
Bam!
A loud blast exploded in the air and something struck the wight on the side of the head, knocking it against the outside wall of the house. Black, tar-looking blood sprayed out from it, painting the side of the house with its small flecks.
“Balls!” Richard lost his footing and tripped on the ledge of the front door and slipped back into the foyer, nearly yanking Beth off her feet with him. A fit of dust came up when Richard landed, causing him to cough.
“Get up, Richard! Ted’s coming!” Beth grabbed Richard’s other hand and helped to pull him up.
Richard looked out to see Ted emerging from around the v
an; his gun was still pointed at them. He fired off another round that hit the door, showering them with shards of wood.
“Run!” Beth’s screams rang in Richard’s ear as he got to his feet. Richard started to move, but spared a glance back at Ted. The wight laid on the porch, with a dark sludge leaking from its wound. It didn’t so much as move. Its only use was as a small obstacle for Ted to step over.
Ted’s head reared back, showing the whites of his eyes as he sprinted forward, roaring.
Richard froze as the fear crept back in, making him shudder. He couldn’t fight Ted, couldn’t outrun him. Beth screamed in Richard’s ear, but he couldn’t move. As Ted charged him, his mind went blank, like a deer in headlights.
Beth reached into Richard’s bag and pulled free of his grip. She threw Richard’s heavy book at Ted. A metal clasp on the edge of the book caught Ted in the face, cutting him just above his eye. Ted stumbled forward as blood poured from the wound. He held a hand up to his face and collapsed to one knee in the mud.
“Kill you!” He bellowed and raised his still-smoking pistol.
Beth fell to her knees and screeched only a few inches from Richard. It was enough to force him to regain control. His mind snapped back into place.
“Beth, no!” He grabbed her hand and pulled her as another blast came from Ted’s gun. Richard turned his back to him, expecting the hot lead to pierce his body, but each shot fired at him narrowly missed.
Richard saw the focus return to Beth’s eyes the moment he grabbed her hand. She leapt to her feet and the two of them dashed through the living room; Beth ripped chairs down behind them. Only small rays of moonlight through the window and the flashes from Ted’s gun seemed to provide any light to guide them. They had no time to be careful, and they slammed into furniture on their way through.
Ted stumbled after them. “Beth!” his voice was weak and sickly sounding. “Beth, you bitch, you cut my face.” He fired off another wild shot.
“Dammit, dammit.” Richard’s eyes were wide with fear. “I kinda thought the wight would be able to take a little more punishment than that.”
Beth pulled him into the shadow of a side room and held up a finger. “Shh!”
Richard closed his eyes tight and hugged the wall, trying his hardest not to breathe.
“Richard,” she whispered. “We’re going to have to wait for him to pass and hit him from behind. We have to hit him together.”
“Yeah…” He wanted to protest, but couldn’t.
“Richard, you fat son of a bitch, where are you?” Ted called again. Richard could hear his voice closing in. “Richard. I just… Just come out here.”
Beth stared at the ground. A tear rolled down her face. “Richard, I’m sorry we made you come here when you didn’t want to. But we’re all getting out of here, okay?” Despite the tear, her voice didn’t crack.
More than ever before, Richard wanted to be brave. He wanted to prove to someone that he wasn’t worthless. He wanted to stop being afraid of everything, and he wanted to believe her that everyone was getting out.
I’m going to save them.
Ted’s steps thumped louder as they drew nearer. “Hey guys, everything is starting to get a lot clearer, and I’m starting to feel a lot better. But what the hell was that I shot in the head?” His words came with a drunk’s slur, filled with anger. “You’re not going to answer me? Are you hiding from me? Are you hiding from me? Do you know what I’m going to do to you when I find you, Beth? I’m going to rip that hair out of your scalp and then beat your pretty face against the corner of one of these walls until… Well, I haven’t thought much past that part.” Something crashed in the other room.
Bam!
The blast resounded, and the flash of the shot lit up the room next to them.
“Am I getting close yet? Got another clip in the car just in case I run out.”
Each blast in the confined area of the house shook Richard to the bone. His ears rang deafeningly as another blast ripped through the walls.
“How about there? These rotted walls are weak, yeah? Maybe a round will make it through and shake things up. Kinda hard to see in here, you know? Figured I’ll find you both soon, but it makes it more fun if you’re running, right?”
His steps crept closer still, and Richard had to bite his own lip hard enough to draw blood as he struggled not to move or even breathe.
“Richard. Richard! Do you know what I’m going to do to you?” Richard could hear furniture clatter to the floor as Ted threw it aside.
Please, please, please let him walk past us. Please let him walk past us.
“I’m going to rip that fat head of yours straight off, Richard. But I’m going to cut you with a piece of glass first. Cut you until it’s not fun anymore.” Ted burst out laughing and stepped past their room with his back to them. Beth ripped forward, Richard in tow, despite how much smaller she was.
The two slammed into Ted, knocking into him. Something broke beneath them as the man collided with the floor. His gun fired, filling the room with a moment’s flash of light.
Richard hit the ground too, his head had been too close to the gun. The intense buzzing now made him sure he was deaf. His head seemed to whirl uncontrollably, the buzzing drowning out everything else as he brought his hands to the throbbing pain in his head.
It was several long moments before he began to feel lucid again. His legs felt weak, making it impossible to stand, even as the ringing somehow grew louder. He blinked several times. The flash from the gun and the force of hitting his head on the ground made it hard for him to think.
When he could move again, he forced his eyes open. He could see Beth screaming, though he heard nothing beyond a dull ringing. To Richard, she only sat there screaming to a silent world. Then Ted was on top of her, grabbing her by the hair, jerking her from side to side like a dog with a dead rabbit.
Richard tried to scream, roar at Ted to let go, but he couldn’t hear anything come out. Ted turned to him, his hand still laced with Beth’s hair, as she dug her nails into his arm. He raised his pistol to Richard’s eye level.
Richard could smell the gun, could see the smoke slither out from the barrel, but he couldn’t do anything. He was frozen in place; he simply waited for Ted to pull the trigger. The shock of everything was too much for him to command his body to do anything else.
This is how it ends. I’m so sorry, Beth.
Ted pulled the trigger once, twice. It clicked. Beth shrieked again—her mind lost to the witching effect—and her screams finally cut through the ringing in Richard’s ears. Her cries of pain compelled him to act. Now, with the gun empty, Richard lurched onto his feet and bowled into Ted. He hit the thicker man on the chest, knocking him back against the wall.
Ted’s hand was pulled from Beth’s hair, ripping strands with it, as he stumbled back. Drawing a breath, Ted growled as he whipped the pistol forward and caught Richard in the lip with the grip.
The blow connected with Richard’s teeth and knocked him flat. Richard spat blood, and a white shard of tooth with it. He tried to call for Ted to stop, to remember who he was, but the blood kept flowing down his throat. Each time he tried to speak, he coughed up more. He could only hold up a single pleading hand.
Ted reached out and grabbed Richard’s hands and then twisted the fingers. Richard felt them all pop and feared they might break; the muscles in them tightened and the bones felt crushed together beneath Ted’s grip.
“Stop, dammit! Stop!” Richard’s blood spattered out with each word. There was nothing Richard could do to save Beth, or to even save himself. Ted’s cruel strength overwhelmed him.
Ted dragged him up by the hand with apparent ease and kicked him hard in the stomach. Richard collapsed against the wall and gasped for air as he spat out more blood. The red dribbled down his lips and sprayed across Ted when he coughed; Ted remained unflinching. Richard tried to cry out again but couldn’t find the air to even attempt. Ted slammed the grip of the pistol down on Richard�
�s skull, splitting open the skin. A wet sensation leaked down Richard’s face and over his ears.
Richard squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the next blow. He suspected that it would be the last, but the thought of Ted finishing him and moving on to Beth gave him the strength to lash out one last time. He turned and swung a wild fist up at the bigger man. It connected with Ted’s arm to little effect.
“I’ll rip you apart, Richard! You fat-ass son of a bitch!” Ted slammed a fist into Richard’s head, catching him on the ear and knocking him loose.
I can’t fight him. We’re dead.
“I’m going to cave your brains in, Richard. Isn’t that wonderful?” Ted stepped to the side to grab a piece of furniture that had broken in their struggle. He yanked up the broken wood and gripped it tightly. The makeshift club was splintered in sections, leaving cruel-looking shards across it. He swung it hard and caught Richard’s arm. Its large splinters of wood shoved deep into the meat of Richard’s arm; he wasn’t sure if the blow had broken his arm or not.
Ted stepped over Richard’s legs and raised the chair leg up into the air. His expression mocked lurid happiness, his eyes stretched wide open. Despite the blood that slowly ran down his face from the head wound, he seemed to be enjoying himself.
In that last moment before death may have taken Richard, a long white arm stretched out from the dark and grabbed Ted. Three long white fingers clamped down over the top of Ted’s head before pulling him off his feet and into the air.
Richard blinked, then tried to wipe away the blood that was dripping into his eyes, layering his darkened world with shades of red. He watched as the wight took a bite from Ted’s arm and heard Ted’s blood-curdling scream. Like a wounded animal snagged, Ted struggled and raged to fight the creature, but it was of no use. As weak as Richard had been against Ted, Ted was weaker still against the wight. Its strength overwhelmed him, and with only an empty gun, the wight met little resistance. The creature held Ted off his feet by his head. It shook him from side to side, hitting him against the walls as it tried to beat the fight out of him. Ted’s club clattered to the floor as his neck twisted and turned.