Gray Night

by Gregory Colt

  Minutes passed with more bursts from the machine gun. Lots of screaming. Constant growls and crashes and things bumping into the wall.

  A bullet tore through the top of the door and ricocheted once or twice inside the room. Everyone, except me again, jerked back and ducked for cover. Unfortunately, no one was hit.

  “Damn that man. Damn him!” Roman Sawyer barely spit out, gritting his teeth so hard.

  “You two!” Roman pointed at two of the guards. “Help me. Undo the pipe at her head. I’ll get her feet. I want her off the table and upright,” he said, taking the pipe apart at my feet.

  “The chains?” one of the men asked by my head.

  “Off,” he said. “If she tries for the door, kill her.”

  They took both pipes out, sat me up, and took the chains off. I slid off the table, gingerly testing the weight on my feet. It was difficult to stand. My ankles and wrists burned from the chains. I’d been horizontal for I don’t even know how long. Twelve hours? Eighteen? More than a day? All I knew was the pain piercing my feet was electrifying so I didn’t fight it. I leaned back against the table and spilled my hair forward over me as much as I could. Not for the cover, modesty wasn’t a priority at the moment, but more for the warmth it provided.

  A minute passed without sound.

  “If that door handle moves, I don’t care who’s on the other side, you shoot through it!” Roman snapped.

  The static from one of the men’s radios broke. “We got him.”

  I suppressed everything. There was no way I could be sure it was him. I put more weight on my feet and lifted my knees, massaging my thighs to get the blood flowing. I’d only get one chance.

  “He’s hit. Worked into a corner. Send out reinforcements to box him in,” the radio said.

  “Give me your gun,” Roman said to one of the men. The man handed it to him. “Go. All of you. I’m killing anyone that opens the door, so knock first.”

  They opened the door and reformed on the other side. Roman closed the door behind them but didn’t lock it.

  What he did do was grab me by the hair and swing me around in front him, putting his handgun to my temple.

  “I’m sorry little flower. You are in for a very rough night,” he said.

  I wasn’t bantering with this filth.

  “Nothing to say? Well how about this then, it appears our friend, Mr. Knight, survived his ordeal on the ship.”

  I must have jerked, or moved or something, because he laughed at me.

  “Oh yes, he’s out there.”

  He found me. He came for me. But why alone?

  “And he’s wounded. Bleeding in the dark out there on the floor. Maybe I’ll have him brought in here before he dies to see how close he came.”

  Roman couldn’t possibly know what that would do to him. I couldn’t let that happen. Not to the man who tried to save me. I didn’t know if I could handle someone sacrificing themselves for me, but I knew, knew, I wasn’t going to let someone be broken. Adrian Knight deserved better.

  “I wonder,” Roman mused.

  I planned my move while he indulged in bad villain dialogue.

  “I wonder if he’ll cower and beg like the old man at the museum?” He smiled.

  I shuddered and held in the desire kill him where he stood. He said it. He admitted to being there. He’d brought his men, his soldiers, and had them kill Henry and George.

  The room resounded with the sounds of automatic fire. Roman continued to smile, but as the sounds died someone screamed. Two someone’s. Followed by erratic gunfire. Roman’s smile slipped and he tightened his grip on my hair, pushing the gun harder against my head. He was tense, frightened. I wouldn’t get a better chance.

  I leaned forward like I was listening, then gasped and stared at the door, backing into Roman. He flinched, just for a second, just enough of a reaction to point the barrel away from me and towards the door.

  Now! I spun and threw my elbow high and wide over his arm holding the gun, pinning it tight in my armpit, while my other hand swept up one of the chains sitting on the table where they’d left it. I finished my arc, bringing the chain down hard into his face. He moved his wrist to reposition the gun, but I wrenched upwards under his elbow causing him to howl as his arm popped. He dropped the gun. I released his arm and stepped back to swing harder. I struck him twice more with the chain until he fell to one knee and toppled over the handgun trying to turn it up to me.

  I let go of the chain and ran out the door into the shadowed room.

  The only light was from the room beyond, the one with all the beds. The door was straight across from me and wide open. I ran for it.

  I heard the door to the small room behind me slam open before I was halfway across the room. I twisted back around to look—and gasped as my bare feet slipped in something on the floor. One leg slid into the other and I tumbled to the ground not five feet from the next room. A shot rang out over me, impacting somewhere in the room beyond.

  Before I could react, a bloody hand grabbed my wrist tight, something grunted, and pulled me into the dark. I screamed, felt my body drag over a mound on the floor, and tasted blood as another hand clasped tight over my mouth, which painfully choked off my screams.

  My captor fell behind me, releasing my wrist and wrapping his arm around my midsection. He pulled the upper half of my body tight against him. Out in the dark were more grunts and growls. I convulsed in a soundless scream. I was trapped. Trapped and held for those things. Those things that weren’t men any more. The things that would have gotten me in Nick’s office if Adrian hadn’t come for me. The things that ripped apart my friends. I shuddered and cried as the sounds grew louder, angrier, frenzied. I was going to die. The monsters were going to get me.

  “Sshhhhh,” my captor whispered in my ear.

  I heard Roman run by and stop where I’d fallen. “I’m going to find you! You and your friends! I’m going to kill you all!” he snarled.

  Something roared back in response from deeper in the room and Roman’s neck cracked he turned to look so fast. A pair of heavy boots rumbled through the room.

  “You!” Roman shouted. “What are you doing? Find them! Attack, damn you!”

  The heavy steps continued across the room.

  “You worthless drone, when I’m done I’m going to—what are you doing?” Roman said, changing his tone. “Stop.”

  The heavy steps continued.

  “Stop, that’s an order! Oh god, no. No. Stop!” A second later, a shot rang out and the heavy footsteps broke into a howling charge that ended in a crash and a soft crunch.

  Roman Sawyer’s body fell six feet away and the heavy steps moved into the next room.

  “Do. Not. Make. A sound.”

  Adrian? Adrian! I tried to look at him, but he held even tighter. Right, no sound. No movement whatsoever. He kept me from getting us both killed and it was my turn. I relaxed and tried to control my breathing. He relaxed his grip only after several long seconds.

  “Whisper,” he said with lips so close they brushed my ear. “Right into my ear like I’m doing. No more.”

  He leaned down to listen to me.

  “Roman. That was Roman, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. He’s dead. One of them was badly wounded. Probably completely feral now.”

  I nodded against his chest.

  “Are you okay? They said you were hit,” I asked.

  “My leg. But it isn’t important right now.”

  I reached down to feel along his legs until my hand hit the huge moist area on his thigh. I felt blood on the floor beneath his leg as well and that was since he’d sat down.

  “Adrian!” I whisper-yelled.

  He pressed his hand hard against my mouth again and there was a loud crash in the outer room like something bumped into a table.

  I patted his arm to let him know I was calm, and as an apology. He released me.

  “Your thigh is covered in blood. It’s even on the floor since you’ve sat down.”
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  “I’m covered in it. Probably not mine.”

  I took his hand and ran it down his wounded leg to let him feel it.

  “Oh,” he said. “Yeah, that’s bad.”

  “You think?”

  “Don’t be mean. I thought you were talking about my hip.”

  “Your hip? You mean you’ve been shot twice?” I snapped without raising my volume.

  “Helps explain why I can’t walk. I thought it was—”

  “If you can’t walk how are we going to escape?”

  He paused for a moment. “We won’t. You will.”

  “Don’t even start on the self-sacrificing heroic bullshit. I’m freezing and not in the mood.”

  “Well, it wasn’t exactly Plan A, but I can’t—”

  “What was Plan A?”

  “We both get out alive.”

  “Good. Let’s do that then.”

  “Claire, I can’t. It isn’t just my leg. It’s the drugs. Roman’s men overdosed me on Gray Night. Over and over. Couldn’t stop them. Now I’m—I’m crashing. I’ll be unconscious any minute. I’m sorry, I…”

  We needed to move, now.

  “Adrian, we need to go right now. Both of us. We can’t wait.”

  “Stubborn woman. Help me up. Quiet.”

  I leaned forward to balance myself with my hands on his shoulders while I stood, braced myself, and offered him my hands while being eternally grateful for the darkness.

  He clasped mine as I leaned back, helping to support some of his weight while he stood on his one good leg. When he was up, I drew him close.

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  I heard him slide out of his jacket and felt him place it over my shoulders.

  I slipped my arms in, wrapped it around me, and was the most comfortable I’d felt in ages.

  “Thank you,” I whispered in his ear. “Umm, where are we?”

  “Think it’s an old cold storage closet. Couldn’t shut the door though. Body in the way.”

  “Is that what you dragged me over?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Plan?”

  “Roman’s gun. Do you see it? There in the light?”

  “Yes.”

  “I distract the big guy. Draw him off to the back. You grab the gun and shoot him, okay?”

  “Is that even a good idea? You can barely stand. Is there any way out without you having to confront him?”

  “Sure. You distract him and I’ll go for the gun.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I can’t make a run for it. He’d catch me. But you might—”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “Deal with it.”

  “Then be a doll and go get the gun.”

  “Okay.”

  I felt him step around me to get closer to the door.

  “Claire?”

  “Yes.”

  “One more thing. It is critical, absolutely critical, that you not shoot me.”

  “If you don’t get a move on I will,” I said, hoping the banter would help suppress the nervousness trying to take hold.

  I couldn’t be sure in the dark, but I thought he smiled at me before hobbling out into the half-light.

  I went to the doorway and waited as he limped around Roman’s body and further back to the wall.

  “Hey!” he yelled. “Hey tiny! Right here big guy!”

  The man roared from the other room.

  “Yeah!” Adrian screamed. “Come get some!”

  The man charged through, limping himself, straight at Adrian. I didn’t hesitate and ran right behind him, sliding to a crouch at Roman’s body to pull the gun free.

  I had it in seconds and waited for a clear shot to fire. Both men were wounded. Their struggle looked like an awful choreographed stage fight as each of them struck the other back and forth in turn with slow, powerful blows as they closed. I still didn’t have a clear shot.

  Adrian and the man grabbed and shoved and punched, maneuvering for position. Adrian was winning when both of them jerked their heads around.

  “No,” Adrian sighed. “No. Noooo!” he screamed.

  I glanced down the row beside me into the dark. I saw the eyes first. They grew as they came closer. The sound of heavy breathing and dragging feet followed.

  Adrian and I caught each other’s eyes and I was very sad, very sorry. But he was terrifying. His eyes were full of fury and hatred—and madness. Adrian threw his head around and smashed his crown into the man’s nose who howled and fell to the floor.

  I twisted to face the darkness between the tables and brought up the gun. I waited a second, maybe two, while I aimed right between those eyes in the dark.

  Click.

  Nothing.

  The man in the dark flinched for a half second then charged.

  Oh god.

  Adrian dove forward, bellowing. He stretched out and grabbed the man’s ankle, tripping him. The man fell short, but still crashed into me, knocking us down with him on top. He wriggled his way up my body, smelling of disinfectant and rot.

  The gun was empty, but I still had a big piece of iron in my hand. I struck him with it. Once, twice, then he swatted it out of my hand and grabbed me by the hair to pull himself up on top of me. He wrenched my head to the side exposing my throat. He opened his mouth wide and peeled his lips back away from rotted teeth.

  As he struck, Adrian yelled and the man slid down my body a few inches, filling his mouth with nothing but leather from Adrian’s jacket.

  “How do you like it!” Adrian screamed, throwing one leg over both of us as he grabbed the man by the jaw from behind and exposed his neck.

  Adrian roared over the man atop me, “How! The fuck! Do you like it!” and tore into his throat. The man gurgled a scream as he threw himself back. Blood welled in his mouth and spilled down his chin. Adrian held him fast, flexed, and ripped his throat out, tossing the body to the side.

  I tried to move, but shivered and couldn’t remember how to breathe. Adrian Knight stood over me, a wet, dark red, blood god of nightmares. He leaned over and wiped off the saliva that had fallen onto my neck as well as my face, but his body was covered in so much blood it didn’t matter.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  It took a moment to form words. It’s Adrian, Claire. It’s just Adrian.

  I nodded but could not take my eyes away as he checked me for injuries. His breathing was heavy and he moved slowly. His arms were nothing but dark, glistening reds, and his hands and wrists were shredded and swollen. He winced, unable to hide it when he put weight on his left hip, and I saw blood run from the wound in his thigh that looked ominously in rhythm with a heartbeat.

  Before he was through, his hand slipped and he fell on top of me, slow to get up.

  “Adrian?” I asked.

  “I…” he looked around behind him by the tiny storage room we’d hidden in. “Help me.” He pointed towards it.

  I rolled to my knees, careful not to slip on all the blood, and let him lean some of his weight on me as we crawled to the body in the doorway.

  “Belt,” he said, trying to undo the buckle on the dead man’s waist.

  I understood and gently took over from him. He needed a tourniquet on his leg or he’d never make it to a hospital. He laid back down and waited for me to finish. That was not a good sign. It was a fight all its own for him just to stay conscious now. He was slipping away.

  No, I wouldn’t let that happen. I yanked the belt through the last loop, slid it under Adrian’s leg on, and just above, the wound, and pulled it tight as I could, slipping the end into a knot.

  I smiled, just for an instant, that I had saved my patient, might have repaid some small part of the debt for him having saved me, twice. And then the man Adrian had left to save me stood at the end of the light. He looked from me, to Adrian on the floor.

  I cried. Just cried. I didn’t have any more feeling left in me. Did it never end? Desperate miracle
after desperate miracle and for nothing.

  I looked at Adrian who was now rolling his head back and forth in slow motion trying to keep his eyes open. He was as helpless as I had been chained to the table. Maybe worse.

  His body was gone and his mind somewhere else entirely. He had been broken trying to spare me the exact same thing.

  He whispered, ‘Evy’, and something inside me snapped.

  “No,” I stepped over him and held my hand out toward the man limping toward us.

  “You cannot have him,” I cried. “You will not touch him!”

  I didn’t know what I would do. Probably die horribly, Adrian too, but I sure as hell wasn’t just going to let it happen.

  The man hunched lower as he drew in close to see what I would do. Which was nothing. I stood my ground for whatever would come and tried to ignore the sounds and smells of his friend’s mouth I remembered along my throat. He took a deep breath and coiled his body to strike a killing blow and—

  Baoom!

  Baoom!

  A gun cracked twice in quick succession right next to me. Dark, wet shadows sprayed from the side of the man’s head and his body collapsed to the ground at Adrian’s feet, dead.

  I turned to see who was standing in the doorway between the two main rooms, while my ears still rang, and saw a middle-aged man in a black suit and tie I didn’t recognize.

  “Ma’am?” he asked, holstering his weapon. “Dr. Spurling?”

  I didn’t respond and realized I was holding my breath.

  “Y… yes,” I said.

  I looked at Adrian and shivered.

  “A… Adrian,” I stammered, pointing down. “He needs help.”

  The man pulled up the hem of his pants as he knelt.

  “Adrian,” he said.

  “I take it back,” Adrian said with his eyes closed.

  “What’s that?” the man asked.

  “I am glad I stopped to make that call,” Adrian said.

  “His leg,” I said.

  The man looked and whistled when he saw it.

  “Don’t suppose anyone wants to tell me exactly what the hell happened in here tonight,” he said, looking back at me.

  “Everything… after,” I said.

  The man looked back at the leg then nodded.

  “You okay to walk, Knight?” he asked.

  “I’ll bloody well walk out of here,” Adrian said.