by J. Z. Foster
Chapter 20
“Lies,” Richard repeated. He started to bring his head up from the table. “Lies.” He looked down at his bloodless hands. He felt the dry leg of his jeans. Where were the cuffs that Minges thought he wore? Where was the heat that Minges fanned? Why did Minges not see the window in the room?
“What’s that there, son?” Minges’s interest was piqued again.
Richard didn’t respond; he only looked to the spider-web grooves in the table, cut deeper now than they were only seconds ago. Lies, lies, lies. The word was scratched there over and over again, like a living thing that demanded to be seen. He burst to his feet and sent his chair clattering to the floor. His gaze raced across the wall, drinking in the bleakness of it all. The word was scratching itself everywhere in the room, and more kept forming. Lies, lies, lies. He turned to stare at Minges, still not completely sure of what was happening.
Minges too rose to his feet and held his hand up cautiously to Richard. “Now listen, son, take a seat there. You’re losing your damn mind. Don’t you go doing nothing you shouldn’t be doing, okay?”
“Who are you?” Richard demanded.
“I’m your salvation here Richard, I’m the only one that’s going to get you out of this mess, but you need to listen to me.” Minges’s accent had melted away, while an uneasy smile slithered across his face. “You need to listen to me. Sit down, and let’s talk about what happened after you killed her.”
“I didn’t kill her. I wouldn’t.” Something strong took hold of Richard. “You’re lying to me.”
Whispers filled the room then, seemingly from a thousand different voices speaking all at once, with only one thing to say: Lies, lies, lies. Their dull repetition continued and blurred out anything Minges tried to say. But he did try. Minges screamed at the top of his lungs, but Richard heard nothing—he didn’t want to hear any more from him, so he didn’t.
The voices stopped only when Richard decided to speak. “You’re a damn liar, and I’ve heard enough from you.” Richard moved over to the door. Without looking, he knew that the walls and windows behind him were melting away, along with Minges, who no longer bothered to resist. Richard knew what this was now, knew that he was trapped in the recesses of his own mind, and he would no longer be a slave to their control.
Wake up.
He stepped closer to the heavy door in front of him, but each step seemed to make it stretch farther away. He saw dark, demonic images fill the window in the door. He saw their razor-sharp teeth and their frightful smiles, as if they were waiting for him to open the door and let them in. Another threat from the dark, from the unseen, a reason to be afraid of the unknown, a reason to cower and submit.
I won’t be afraid of you anymore.
Lies, he repeated to himself. It’s all a lie. The door stopped stretching away as Richard took control of his mind, no longer a toy to be played with. He grabbed the handle on the door and ripped it open, frightened, but ready for what came next, ready for the monsters that hid in the dark.
Richard gasped. He thrashed from side to side, dazed and confused as to where he was. The peace and serenity he felt only moments before while trapped in his own mind were gone. The very real, cold, and cruel world set on him. The aches of the night assailed him; a pounding headache told him this world was real.
The Witch’s Dance, the Mind Brace, he had me. He was winning.
He moved to stand up, but instead rolled off a bed and fell to the ground, sending a gust of dust up into the air that filled his lungs and coated his face. He coughed hard and wiped at his eyes. The room was dim and choked by darkness; a single lantern near his bed was the only source of light. He heard something hiss in the corner.
Richard scrambled to his feet. “Wha—Who are you?” He was still dazed and half-blinded.
An eerie form took shape in the dark corner. The dark image sat in a woven chair that creaked as it started to move. The thing slid out of its seat and slapped the floor like a soaked towel dropped on a hard floor. A thin hand stretched into the light of the lantern as it started to drag its way toward Richard.
It crawled into the light of the candle, revealing its bald head and burnt, dark-brown skin with deep black scars scattered across it. Its limbs looked thin, starved even. Though hideous, its torso resembled a person with its head, ears, and arms; its lower half did not. Where a man would have legs, it only narrowed off to a thick, squat tail that dragged behind it uselessly.
It struggled across the ground, inching closer to him. Richard caught its gaze and recognized its blue-gray eyes.
This thing was Minges.
He knew the creature had been trying to control him, corrupt his mind. “Get away from me!” Richard stomped his heel down on its weak fingers. It wailed in pain as the bones crunched beneath Richard’s shoe, but it kept dragging forward in its desperate attempt to end Richard.
It latched its weak, broken fingers onto Richard’s pant leg and pulled itself up. It snapped its mouth open and shut in rapid movements. Richard smashed the bottom of his hand down across its soft skull and, as it connected, he felt something slide away beneath the creature’s flesh and knocked it loose. It had no strength to stop him as he kicked it hard, again and again. Its brittle bones and cartilage cracked and shattered beneath his blows. “Get the hell off me!”
It moaned weakly as Richard turned around and rushed out of the room, only hesitating long enough to grab the lantern. Richard threw his shoulder into the wooden door, busting it open. He turned back to see the creature still weakly reaching for him with its other arm cradled to its side. He slammed the door shut and scrambled into the hallway, leaving the horrors of that room behind him.
The shadows from the lantern’s flame danced across the carved, uneven stone floors and walls as tunnels stretched off to the left and right of his room. Something screeched from deep within the tunnel that went left, which was enough to send Richard in the other direction. His hand fumbled at his side as he quickly realized his book and satchel were gone.
Oh, God.
Naked. He had no tools, no friends, no weapons—he was useless once more. After taking a bend in the tunnel, a strange light shone at the end. The stone was slick from water that leaked down the damp walls and formed small pools on the floor. He moved as quickly as he could manage, while still avoiding the puddles. He barely noticed a door dug into the side of the stone tunnel; he gave it a single glance and hurried past it toward the light. But thoughts of death and pain clouded his mind, along with a promise made, a promise that could be relied on.
Where are Ted and Beth?
It would have been easy to forget that door. But his thoughts drove him back to it, away from the light at the end of the tunnel, and back to the dark and the unknown. There was only a moment’s hesitation before he grabbed the handle and pulled it open.
Ted was strapped down and splayed across a wooden table. Rough, frayed ropes were knotted around his wrists and feet, holding him prisoner, tied to the operating table. An old air tank rested at the side of the table with a clear plastic hose connecting it to a brown leather hood that was strapped to Ted’s face. Richard instinctively looked at the corners of the room, praying that there was not a horrid creature like Minges. He was relieved to find it otherwise empty.
He was next.
“Ted!” Richard set the lantern down, and with a quivering hand pulled the mask off Ted. “Ted! Ted are you okay?” He shook the larger man, only to see his head roll from side to side.
Another violent shake and Ted’s eyes slowly began to open. He mumbled several words before he became coherent. “Where are we?”
“Hold on buddy, I’m going to get you out of there!” Richard’s fingers worked at the frayed ropes.
“Richard? Oh shit, where the hell are we?” Ted was regaining himself more quickly than Richard expected.
“I don’t know, but we need to find Beth and get out of here! What do you remember?” The rough rope cut Richard’s fingers as he w
orked at it, but it didn’t slow him down. Soon, the last of the knots came undone.
“I can’t…” Ted blinked hard, trying to force himself to think. “Wait, I remember! We were inside the gas station; he came out of the walls! He hit us! Don’t you remember?”
“They were doing something to me, they were in my mind,” Richard said, blinking rapidly. “I don’t remember much after getting to the gas station.”
Ted stood up on shaky legs and nearly collapsed after his first step. His eyes returned to the gas mask. “What the hell were they giving me?”
“I don’t know.” Richard shouldered Ted’s arm to prop him up, but he was too heavy for Richard’s weak arms. He groaned and did his best to hold Ted up. “Come on, Ted, you have to work with me here.”
“Oh, man.” Ted retched a spray of yellow and orange onto the ground, partly soaking his leg.
“Just a little ahead! We’re almost out. Just hold it together, man! There’s a light at the end—we’ll get to it and get out!” Richard grabbed the lantern with one hand and provided the crutch for Ted as they started to move out.
The two struggled to the end of the tunnel, which turned sharply to the left and merged into stone steps. They climbed up and entered the gas station through a hidden door set in the floor. There was a sharp contrast between the ancient-looking stone tunnels and the white walls and green tiles of the gas station. Without hesitation, Richard shot up the steps first and set the lantern aside as he reached down to help pull Ted out.
“I’m okay, I’m okay. It’s wearing off.” Ted shook him off and instead grabbed onto the edge of the hole to pull himself up. Climbing to his feet, Ted quickly jolted past Richard and to the door.
Richard left the lantern at the base of the tunnel and followed Ted, glad to allow someone else to lead. Ted, who seemed to have completely worked off the effects of the drug by the time he got to the front door of the gas station, ripped the glass door open, sending the bell into a fury of commotion. It was already starting to swing closed when Richard grabbed it and pulled it open.
Ted slapped his jean pockets, then pulled out the keys before he hit the van door. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”
Richard glanced at the front passenger seat, and then something struck him and broke him away from his panic and instinct to run. That was where Beth had been seated.
We’re leaving Beth.
“Wait!” Richard’s eyes went wide as the full realization came to him. “Wait, Ted, we can’t leave. What about Beth?”
“What about her, Richard? We can’t do anything for her.” Ted threw the door open and was ready to jump in. “Dammit, Richard! Get in!”
We’re going to leave her.
“The witch has her…” The words choked out and he started to shake.
She’s as good as dead.
“I know he has her, and we can’t do anything.” Ted threw a cautious glance back at the gas station before he came out and rounded the van. “Come on, man!” He opened the van door and tried to stuff Richard inside, while Richard half-heartedly went with him.
She’s as good as dead.
Richard wanted to go. There was nothing he could do now. He knew that she was beyond saving. If Minges was with Richard, and Ted was on his own, then the witch must have Beth. He couldn’t fight it. She was probably already dead.
Ted is right.
Richard was halfway in before he froze, and something deep inside him stirred. He felt terrified for his life, for what he could lose. But, he felt even worse for Beth. “I can’t leave her, Ted.” His eyes grew wet.
What’s my life worth?
“Richard, Richard!” Ted yelled and slammed a hand into the side of the van. “The damn knife is gone! It’s gone! I don’t know where it is or how to find it! We’re going to get the hell out of here and let your buddy Kord roll in here later, all right man? He’ll find her, he’ll save Beth. You and I can’t do anything.”
The knife is gone. The book is gone. Beth is gone.
Richard simply shook his head. “I can’t.” He held firm in the door of the van. “He could be hurting her right now, Ted.”
“Dammit, Richard!” He banged his hand hard against the frame of the van again. “This isn’t a story! This isn’t a damn fairy tale! You’re not the hero!”
That shook him. He wasn’t the hero. He never was. Richard never finished anything, was never good at anything. And now Beth was going to die. He might also die, but he wasn’t going to run. He wasn’t going to run anymore.
“Maybe.” A cold defiance took him as he pushed away and closed the door. “I might not be the hero, but I’m not going to leave Beth down there.” He shoved past Ted and started moving forward.
“Richard!” Ted yelled behind him. “Come back here, man! You’re going to get yourself killed! Richard! It won’t save Beth to die with her!”
Beth didn’t leave Ted. Beth didn’t give up when she found out that there was a witch hurting people. Beth never turned on us, never wavered. Beth held my hand when I was going to break, and whispered to me when I froze. I’ll die for Beth if I have to.
With every ounce of his will, he forced each step forward, despite the instinct that told him to run. He beat back the whispers of fear that told him he was useless, that he should go with Ted. Richard wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t strong and he wasn’t brave. He was a coward, afraid of everything. Now he was afraid for Beth, and would rather die trying to save her than live knowing that he left her to save his own worthless life. Beth was something special. She was someone worth dying for.
The last thing he heard before opening the gas station door was Ted’s van bursting out from the parking lot. Richard had one last fleeting glimpse of Ted tearing down the road before he set himself to the hatch in the floor. He picked up his lantern and held steady for a moment, then looked at the hole in the floor, set in darkness and holding horrors beneath the green tile and white walls.
He held the lantern before him and let its light push back the darkness that threatened, even now, to overtake him. He moved toward where he had been, toward the tunnel where he had heard the scream. Every few feet, he stopped to listen, but over the sound of his own heavy breathing, and the beating of his heart, he wasn’t sure if he was missing anything. With the lantern held high, he set his feet the stone steps. He held his breath as much as he could, commanding his senses to tell him all they could.
There was a dripping sound he hadn’t heard before, which sent an echo through the chambers. The same smell of decay as the house and the monstrous children was in the air; it was the smell of a plague witch, this much Richard was now sure of.
The lone beam from his lantern cut through the dark as he made his way back to the room he had awoken in, back to where he had made that first choice to run from the scream.
He found the door of the room. He could hear the soft whimpers of pain coming from the inside, but he didn’t open it. He didn’t want to see that horrible face again, that thing that called itself Minges.
That wasn’t the witch. Just another of his servants.
He started down the other way, farther into the tunnels. His hand shook, causing the beam to jump from side to side.
Another inhuman screech echoed through the tunnel; it lasted for a few moments and Richard had to close his eyes tight and stand still until it finished. Pictures of Beth in agonizing pain raced through his head. He tried his best to shut them out as he started pushing forward again. The hallway bent and twisted before it wrapped its way back around the foundation of the gas station.
The stagnant smell grew stronger and threatened to overwhelm Richard as he came to the end of the hallway. He pulled the collar of his jacket over his nose and breathed through his mouth as he closed in. There was a door there that looked much the same as the one he had left, and a soft light glowed between the cracks of the boards.
I need my knife. I need the book.
He hesitated. Would it help Beth to run in unprepared? Unready
for what would come next? Or should he try to find his tools first?
A cry of pain erupted again from behind the door and the choice became clear: he couldn’t leave Beth to another moment of that pain by herself. He grabbed the brass handle of the door and, with what remained of his resolve, he threw his shoulder into the door.
Tied to the chair with the same frayed rope and wearing a hood similar to Ted’s, Beth sat in a corner, unconscious. Her jacket was torn and Richard could see scratches that trailed from beneath the hood toward her ears. The wight was there too, strung up on the stone wall with thick heavy chains and a small metal cage around its face. It shrieked in pain with its inhuman voice while a small creature, one of the Sankai, sawed off bits of the wight, leaving bloody, black wounds. The Sankai turned to Richard, an old, serrated butcher’s blade held tightly in its hand.
But something darker had been watching from the corner of the room. A man with a black cloak shifted his head toward the intrusion, and Richard could see him clearly. His skin was a pasty white, as if the sun had not touched it in years. It was his eyes, or lack thereof, that drew Richard in. His soft, pink eyelids were sewed shut. It looked as if a bad infection had taken root there, stemming from the wire but not spreading to the rest of his face.
The cloaked man rose to his feet and dread rolled off him in waves. His presence gripped Richard, who froze in panic. Terror made him want to turn away, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the monster in front of him. This was the blight witch, the plague warlock, the evil that had been corrupting him this entire night. This was the monster that ate souls and lurked in shadows. This was the reason men fear the dark.
The warlock’s head tilted only slightly. “So good to see you up and walking.” Each word dripped venom, every syllable a curse and a threat. “You’ve been so bothersome all evening, and why should that stop now? But you will be an annoyance no more. We will have oh so much fun together now.” His thin lips tightened into a smile.
“L-let them go,” Richard stuttered. “We’re le-leaving.”