Nightmare City: Part One: A Post-Steampunk Lovecraft Adventure

by Jack Conner

  She stomped on the gas, again and again. No use.

  “Fuckballs,” she said.

  She glanced at Heather. The younger woman smiled strangely, and her dilated eyes gazed all around. The drugs had definitely taken effect. “We’re stuck,” Heather said, and somehow she sounded happy about it.

  Rain slammed down, and thunder rolled.

  Katya had no shoes on, so she picked up the fallen gun, made sure it was empty, and used it to smash out the rest of the already cracked windshield. Much of it already glittered on the hood, twinkling by the illumination of lightning. Rain swept in, raising further gooseflesh on her arms. She scraped the edges of the windshield, then cautiously climbed out, careful not to cut her feet. She slipped once on the hood and had to catch herself on the coach top.

  “Come on,” she said to Heather, holding out a hand.

  Heather eyed the hand spacily, then looked up into Kat’s face. “Hey, Katya.”

  Kat sighed. “Hi, Heather. Now come on!”

  “Do I have to? I’m so comfortable.”

  “Yes, you have to. Now!”

  “Oh, all right.”

  Heather took the hand, and with much groaning and grunting on Kat’s part Heather emerged into the night. To her horror, Kat saw the seat back Heather had lain against was absolutely coated in red. Katya’s stomach dropped.

  “Oh, it’s so pretty,” Heather said, staring up at the storm that roiled overhead. Kat looked. Somewhere deep inside the cloud formation lightning struck, revealing the different levels of clouds and making them seem to glow for a moment from within, as if the storm was powered by some great electric heart.

  “Here,” Kat said. Gently she removed Heather’s coat and swept some of the glass away from the hood, then she helped Heather down from the auto and gave her the jacket back. Heather smiled as she accepted it, holding it to her chest fondly. She began stroking it and cooing to it. Rain trickled down her auburn hair, matting it.

  The road was cold on Kat’s feet, and she was miserable in the rain, but she grabbed Heather’s hand and led her down one alley, then another. In the distance she heard goons calling to each other. Fuckworms.

  Her stomach growled in hunger, and she realized it had been hours since she’d eaten. If only she could find some nook for her and Heather to hole up in, some place with some canned food—

  Piercing alarms cut the night.

  A chill started at the crown of Katya’s head and shuddered down her body like a wave. In the distances, alarms continued to blare. People in the tenements all around screamed. Kat saw a gang of filthy children run into a doorway and slam a thick metal door behind them, then heard them lock it shut.

  “No,” she said. “No no no.”

  Loqrin wasn’t taking any chances. He wanted them dead.

  He knows what I found out is dangerous to him, Kat thought. Good.

  And, obviously, bad.

  Heather stared blankly about them, as if trying to locate the source of the alarms. Kat realized she must’ve given Heather too much of whatever was in that syringe.

  Well, there was nothing for it. Kat gripped Heather’s hand in hers and ran, bare feet slapping on cracked, hole-ridden asphalt. Dirty rainwater splashed in potholes. She took one alley, then another, looking for an open door. She passed a bar, saw through the thick glass windows a row of hunched, pale figures crouching along the bar. They nursed crusty mugs of beer while homely women tried to entice them. Kat banged on the doors, but the doorman showed her his shotgun. “Get lost!” he said.

  “Please!” she said.

  Alarms sounded louder.

  Various emotions crossed the man’s face, and at last he sighed and began unbolting the door. First one bolt, then another, then a chain ...

  “Hurry!” Kat said, slapping at the door.

  Another bolt, then ...

  Suddenly she heard the first scrape and shuffle. With dread, she turned to see a line of ragged figures slouch around the nearest corner, moaning and gibbering. Even in the rain, the stink of rotting flesh rolled before them. Lightning flickered above, and Kat was afforded a brief glimpse of the approaching creatures and felt the blood drain from her face. She saw an enormous fat woman whose belly was splitting open like an over-ripe pumpkin, a man with worms wriggling from eye socket and nose, a muscular fellow whose face had been skinned. It was raw, red and glistening in the rain, but its teeth shone pearly white.

  There were many, many others, flesh rotting on their bones, some with clockwork gears visible through holes in their bodies.

  “No,” Kat said. “No ...”

  Even Heather seemed to sober. “Damn,” she said. It was the first time Kat had heard her curse.

  Kat turned to the doorman, who looked miserable, but he just shrugged his shoulders and begun re-locking the door.

  “I hope you get eaten!” Kat said. Turning to Heather, she said, “Come on.”

  She tugged Heather’s arm and ran up the alley. Heather’s breathing became more labored, and she swayed on her feet as she ran. She couldn’t make it much more, Kat knew. She’d simply lost too much blood.

  A stream of Returners appeared around the corner of the alley she was fleeing up, blocking her off.

  “Shit,” she said.

  She wheeled to face the other way, dragging Heather with her. When she reached the intersection, she saw a tide of Returners coming up toward her from one alley and heard sounds of more coming from a third direction. That left her one choice, and she took it. Heather stumbled along behind her. Panic and fear overcame Katya, and she just wanted to sink to her knees and cry. It all seemed so hopeless. Loqrin feared what she knew, and he wouldn’t let her leave. There was no way out. Why even try?

  She shoved the thoughts away. She remembered her mother, and Ravic, and knew she had to fight. Nothing was ever given to anybody in this world.

  Heather collapsed to the ground.

  Kat’s heart sank. She knelt over the girl, slapped her cheeks. She couldn’t see Heather’s face in the dark, but she could see the glitter of water in her eyes. “Heather! Heather! Wake up!”

  Returners shambled up the alley, hooting and groaning. Kat saw large, misshapen forms, but among them smaller, more petite shapes. Whatever they had been in life, though, they were no more. There minds were broken, damaged things, filled with hate and anger. Some Returners were manageable, but Loqrin had seen to it that these were not. Sick bastard.

  Katya slapped Heather’s cheek. The Returners drew closer.

  “Come on, H!”

  No reaction. It occurred to Kat that she could leave Heather and maybe escape, save herself. Fuck that. Heather had nearly killed herself—maybe had killed herself—to save Katya. Katya would do anything for her.

  “Sorry about this,” she said. She reached around, slung one of Heather’s arms over her shoulder and hefted Heather up with one of her own hands on Heather’s waist. She had to reach around Heather’s back to do it, and put some pressure on the whip-cuts, but it was the only way. Grunting under the weight, she pulled Heather upright and staggered, a step at a time, up the alley.

  Thunder crashed. The Returners scraped and shuffled behind. Closer. Their smell thickened.

  At last Heather moved her feet, just a little. Then a bit more. A harsh breath escaped her lips.

  “Thank the gods,” Kat gasped. “I thought I’d lost you there for a sec.”

  Heather didn’t answer, just sucked in a pained breath.

  A set of steps ahead, leading to a door just slightly ajar. Kat all but ran to it. Half hopping, half stumbling, she helped Heather up the steps and kicked it open. A dim hallway stretched inward. A strange-looking woman knelt on the floor before what looked like a heavy metal door, burglar’s tools arranged on a cloth beside her.

  And a gun.

  Evidently startled, she picked up the gun and aimed it at Kat and Heather. Kat’s bladder nearly released in fright as the muzzle of the gun swallowed the world.

  “Who are you?�
� the woman demanded. She had a thick accent, and she spoke so fast the words sort of blurred together so that they sounded more like Whoareyou?

  Kat opened her mouth to answer—

  “Nevermind,” the woman said. “Just close thefucking door!” Half to herself, she mumbled, “I thoughtImight have timeto getinandout, but—just close it!”

  “Can we come in first?” Katya said.

  “Ifyoumust.”

  Kat pulled Heather inside and propped her against the wall. Heather slouched down, hissing in pain. Frantically Kat turned back to the doorway. The tide of Returners had reached the steps. Several shamble-stumbled up them, rotted hands reaching for Kat. She slammed the door in their faces. It was a large, heavy door, made to resist Returners, and it slammed with a satisfying thud. Returners scratched at it and howled on the other side, but for the moment, Kat and Heather were safe. Overhead, thunder shook the tenement.

  “Fuck,” the burglar woman said, throwing down her pick. “Jim’s gotten better at keeping me out.”

  Kat’s heart beat fast and hard under her ribs. Blood coursed like fire through her veins. Water dripped from her eyebrows into her eyes, and from her hair down her shoulders and back. Her soaked bra sent rivulets down her stomach, some to pool in her navel. She was thoroughly drenched, and she felt her shoulders shake in cold and fear. Just a few inches behind her, Returners scratched at the door.

  Partly to get her mind off it, partly to ingratiate herself with this woman, she said, “Who’s Jim?”

  The woman snorted. “Jim McKray. You’ve hearda him. Ona Loqrin’s pimps.”

  “Ah.” Kat remembered the bar she’d passed, remembered the homely prostitutes there. If this was McKray’s area, those were probably his girls, and he was likely at the bar even now, trapped by the tide of Returners. He may even have been the man that locked her out. No wonder the burglar woman was so bold. She’d probably been waiting for the alarms to sound just so she could sneak here and start picking. “So you’re one of his girls?”

  The woman snorted again, trying a different pick. “Do I look like one of his girls?”

  In truth, she didn’t look like anything Kat had ever seen before. For one thing, she was completely black. Kat had known some dark-complexioned people before, of course. Most of the ones in Lavorgna hailed from Mdbai, a vast jungle-y place on a different continent. Ancient stone towers hundreds of feet high rose from those jungles, and an ancient order of alchemists and occult practitioners ruled there, oppressing the Mdbains with iron fists. Little wonder many escaped, some foolishly fleeing to the vastly corrupt yet somewhat freer cities in the Confederation, of which Lavorgna ranked high. Mostly they kept to their own quarters of town, but a few tried to blend in.

  This woman did not. For one thing, she was covered from head to toe in glowing, green tattoos that swirled like thorny vines up and down her ebony arms, legs, over her throat, her cheeks and forehead. Kat had seen alchemical tattoos before, but never any so intricate or all-encompassing. The woman even had them on her eyelids and—shit!—on her tongue. The tattoos actually glowed in the darkness, an eerie pulsing green. The glow seemed to ebb and flow, just a bit, probably in time to her heartbeat.

  Kat stared at her, mesmerized. She realized the woman must be in her late twenties, was very athletic, and was stone cold beautiful. It took a while to see that, though, since the tattoos sort of distracted the eye.

  “Don’t stare,” the woman snapped.

  “Sorry,” Katya said.

  “Tree of Hell!” the woman said, flinging down her current pick. “Jim musta hired someone to Aqa-proof this bastard.”

  “Aqa? That your name?”

  “Yeah, what’s it to ya? Fuck!” She slapped the door. With a sigh, she gathered up her tools, wrapped them in the cloth and shoved them into a pouch that stuck out from her belt. She wore dark, soft clothes that hugged her body. Kat could mainly see the clothes as an absence of tattoos.

  “You steal from Jim a lot?” Kat said.

  “Him and the other fuckwads Loqrin runs. I try not to rip off the honest Hollow-men.”

  “That’s good of you.”

  “Yeah, well.”

  “That’s a mean set of picks you have there.”

  Aqa’s eyebrows rose. “You in the business?”

  “Yep, and I’d kill for a set like that.” Katya ran the words through her head again and corrected herself: “Well, maybe not kill.”

  Smiling a little, Aqa’s dark gaze drifted to Heather, who slumped unconscious against the wall. “What’s with yer friend?”

  Kat crouched by Heather, swept some hair from her face. “She’s hurt. Bad. She needs a doctor.” She pulled Heather away from the wall so Aqa could see her back.

  “Holy Tree of Life and Death!” Aqa said. “What have you done to her?”

  Kat met her eyes. “It was Loqrin.” She tilted Heather’s face up so Aqa could see the mutilations.

  “FUCKER!” Aqa picked up her gun from the ground and stuffed it angrily into the holster on her hip. “Some day ... So, wait, you two’re some of his little playmates? Don’t tell me you’ve escaped?”

  Kat nodded. “Yeah, we—”

  The door exploded inward. Rain washed in, and Returners surged after it. Teeth gnashed, and ragged hands groped.

  Kat screamed.

  Aqa yanked out her gun and fired. One of the Returners stumbled backward, brains flying. Another came. Aqa fired again. It fell. Another. Again. Another. The tight hallway filled the stench of gun smoke and torn corpses. Kat gathered Heather up and forced her to stand. “Just a little more, H,” she promised.

  “Why didn’t you lock the fuckin’ door!” Aqa roared as she reloaded.

  Kat gulped. “I didn’t think they could use doors!”

  “Fool! Well, come on!” Aqa turned and started to walk away, snapping the pistol’s cylinder back into place as she went.

  With Returners after her, Kat carried-walked Heather after Aqa, who found a stairwell and bound up it. Groaning and tired, Kat followed.

  “THERE’S BEEN A BREACH!” Aqa shouted, slamming her palm on the walls on the hallway on the next level. “BARRICADE YOURDOORS! GET YOUR GUNS!”

  A fat man stepped out of his hovel wearing a stained shirt and carrying a shotgun. He was hairy and pale. “Who let a breach?” he demanded.

  Katya, pulling Heather along behind, tensed.

  Aqa said, “Never mind. Just do what I say!”

  He spat, slamming his door. Katya heard furniture being dragged on the other side. “See what you did?” Aqa said, glaring at Katya.

  “S-sorry.”

  “Yeah, well. Come on!”

  Aqa continued marching up the stairs, level by level. Katya saw that as the walls listed, some had cracked and been patched up over time. Some hadn’t. Wind gusted in, and with it rain. The hallways stank of mold and cigar smoke. Only some of the floors were electrified. Katya shivered in the cold breeze. Her legs ached in weariness. Sometimes Heather roused herself and was able to help, sometimes not. Aqa kept yelling for people to fortify their doors, and the groan of Returners continued rising from below. Katya felt like she was in a labyrinth that was being flooded.

  At last they reached the top, and Aqa kicked open the final door. Rain swept in.

  The black woman moved onto the rooftop, gravel crunching under her feet. Gasping for breath, wishing Aqa had volunteered to carry Heather, Kat followed, wincing at the cold drops of rain. Behind her, the howls of the Returners drew close.

  Unheeding, Aqa strolled over to the edge of the roof, turned and beckoned Kat over. Every step was an effort. At last Katya stood beside Aqa, staring down into an alley. The buildings listed terribly, and the roof was actually far outstretched over the alley. If Katya fell, she’d fall right in the center of it, maybe even toward the far side. Great. Good thing there were Returners down there to break her fall.

  A rickety board spanned the gap from this sagging rooftop to the next.

  “That’s whe
re we’re goin’,” Aqa said.

  “Fuck,” Katya said.

  “Think of it as an adventure.”

  “What about her?” Kat indicated Heather.

  Heather wilted at her side, half conscious if that. There was no way Heather could cross over that board on her own and no way Kat could carry her.

  “Oh, fuck it,” Aqa said. She bent over, flung Heather across her shoulder, and stood straight with a grunt. “Heavier than she looks. Come!” She turned and nimbly bounded across the board, which made popping noises under her weight. At last she reached the other side and indicated for Kat to follow.

  Kat hesitated. Thief or no thief, she hated heights. The Returner-filled ground below her seemed to sway, sometimes shrinking away, sometimes jumping up at her.

  Scraping noises behind her. Kat spun to see the doorway filled with Returners. Moaning, gnashing their teeth, they flooded out onto the roof. Rain gleamed on their rotting flesh. A worm wriggled through one man’s cheek. A skinny woman glared at Katya out of half-dissolved eyes. Rain beat down on the cloven skull of another, a river of water cascading over the naked brain.

  Katya risked a step onto the board. It bent beneath her. The world swayed. Shit. Her heart hammered in her temples. She took another step, then another. She teetered, sticking out her arms to catch herself.

  “Come on, girl!” Aqa said. With Heather slung over her shoulder, she raised her gun and aimed at something behind Katya. Fired.

  Kat felt the heat of a bullet pass her cheek, a thunk, then something wet and nasty spraying her back. Grinding her teeth, she took another step. Another. The board shifted. Maybe it was her weight, maybe the rain, but she felt it. It sent a shudder up through her toes to the top of her head. She froze.

  Aqa fired again.

  “You can do it!” she said.

  Katya could smell the rot of Returners behind her. She had to cross before they could try to follow her, or, worse, dislodge the board.

  “Fuck fuck fuck,” she said—but she took a step with every word, and at last jumped off the board.