Silas: A Supernatural Thriller

by Robert J. Duperre

  Kaiser looked at me, his face haunting in the dying light, and said, “Too bad you didn’t come a day later.”

  Without another word he grabbed Silas by the loose skin on the back of his neck and guided him toward the hole. Silas resisted at first, giving the boy a distrusting grunt, but then that ultrasonic screech came about once more and he relented, disappearing into the chasm without further prodding. I followed my dog’s lead, jumping onto the concrete steps as fast as I could. The little light that remained disappeared as Kaiser closed the hatchway and locked it.

  “Where are you?” I screamed. I heard Silas’s claws tapping on the concrete below me, but had no way of knowing how deep the rabbit hole went. So I stopped and searched for the wall, which was damp and coarse. The last thing I wanted to do was fall.

  “Don’t fret Mr. Ken,” Kaiser’s voice announced from seemingly all around me. “You’re safe now. Nothing can hurt you here.”

  “Great,” I muttered. “But what’s gonna stop me from hurting myself? I can’t see a goddamn thing.”

  I heard Kaiser chuckle, followed by his hand on my back. “Take it slow. From where we are now there’s only thirty steps or so until we hit the bottom. Trust me. I’m right behind you, and I could walk these stairs in my sleep. You’ll be fine.”

  I did as he instructed, inching my feet to the edge of each step and lowering myself down. I reached flat ground twenty-nine steps later. Silas, obviously able to traverse the darkness confidently, awaited me at the bottom. He rubbed up against my legs, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “We’re here,” Kaiser said.

  I heard a repetitive clicking sound, followed by more creaking gears. That was in turn followed by a grunt, and the fingernails-across-the-chalkboard squeal of steel chafing against concrete.

  Soft light filtered into my eyes. When they adjusted I found myself standing in what amounted to a dungeon antechamber, with concrete walls and a dirt floor. Kaiser stood holding open a huge, safe-like door.

  “Come in,” he said.

  I walked through the doorway, and the boy closed it behind me. The room I entered was huge, thirty feet wide at least and just as long. Racks were propped up against the walls, stacked with a seemingly endless supply of canned goods and bottled water. There was a door in the center of each wall, nestled between the racking. The room was lit by a series of six fluorescent light tubes embedded in the ceiling. It was eerily quiet in there, but beneath the stillness I noticed a gentle whirring sound coming from beneath me. I recognized the sound. It was a generator. It had to be. There was no other explanation for why a bunker in the middle of nowhere had power.

  A huge circular rug had been laid out in the center of the room. On top of that rug sat two frayed couches. It was from atop these random pieces of old furniture that ten eyes stared at me, glimmering in the artificial light.

  “Holy shit,” was all I could say.

  They were kids. One was a boy who looked to be Kaiser’s short-haired and freshly-showered clone. The other four were girls, none of whom could’ve been older than eight. They all had long, stringy black hair and petite features. There was something horribly familiar about them, and it only took me a second to figure out what it was. They all resembled, at least slightly, Bridget Cormier and Jacqueline Talbot. I accidentally bit my tongue in shock.

  The children stared at me the same way Kaiser had earlier that day, as if they’d been confronted by a real-life phantom. A sudden modesty came over me when I remembered I was standing in front of them virtually naked. I wrapped my arms over my chest and stomach and glanced at Kaiser, who stood by my side. He was grinning so wide I feared his face might split in two.

  “This,” he said, presenting me with arms outstretched like a carnival barker, “is Mr. Ken.”

  I waved, feeling more than a little uncertain. “Hi.”

  Silas simply wagged his tail.

  One of the girls – she looked to be the youngest – got off the couch and walked up to me. She jammed her fingers in her mouth, her tiny lips sucking on her knuckles. She stood before me, looking like a filthy cherub, and gazed up with teary, dark-blue eyes.

  “Papa Paul,” she said, a tear running down her cheek. “I’m glad you got home.”

  I couldn’t find it in my heart to correct her.

  30

  One after another, the girls came up and shook my hand. It seemed an almost practiced ritual, with each of them offering a curtsey, then turning to Silas, patting him on the head, and marching back to the couches. I felt like a player in a period piece, albeit minus the puffy shirts. Actually, given my state of dress at the time, it was more like minus any clothing at all.

  The boy was the last to approach me. He brushed past Kaiser and the two exchanged a quick, volatile glance. I was baffled by the sight of them together. They really were identical in every way save hair length and cleanliness. The brother whose name I didn’t know reached out a hand to me. I shook it. His skin was cold, as was his expression. He then pivoted on his heels, stepped to the side, and clasped his hands behind his back, staring at the girls like a drill sergeant. He didn’t once acknowledge Silas, who in turn seemed not to care. Instead, my boy’s eyes darted around the room while his tail wagged.

  “Uh, it’s nice to meet you all,” I said.

  Kaiser’s twin rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t mind him,” said Kaiser, whose face crumpled in concentration while he rummaged through a drawer a few feet behind me. The other boy acted as if he didn’t hear him.

  “He’s pretty serious, huh?” I muttered.

  Having found what he was looking for, Kaiser handed me a hand-made, faded green sweat suit. It was ugly, but I didn’t care. I was simply relieved to no longer have to stand around in my underwear.

  After sliding my new garments over my bare skin, I turned my attention to the girls. “So,” I said, “you guys got names?”

  They didn’t answer; Kaiser did it for them. He worked his way down the line, patting each girl on the head as he introduced them.

  “This is Amanda Brighten,” he said. “She’s seven. Tina Andrews here is eight, and so is Laura Stapleton. And here’s the sweetest of the bunch, little Molly Ferenz. She’s six.” He turned to me and cupped his hand over his mouth. “She’s a cutie, huh?” he whispered.

  I nodded, not really paying attention to the comment. I was too focused on the girls’ names. They all sounded so familiar. No, I thought. That can’t be right…

  “And last but not least,” said Kaiser, forcing my head into the present, “is my brother Will.”

  “I never would’ve guessed,” I quipped.

  “His full name’s Wilhelm,” the boy continued, ignoring my comment. “Will’s just a nickname.”

  My eyebrows arched. “You’re kidding, right? Kaiser and Wilhelm? Kaiser Wilhelm?”

  Kaiser looked like he didn’t know what I was talking about. “No, I’m not kidding.” He sounded truly offended. “Why would you say that?”

  “It’s nothing,” I sighed. “Just trying to be funny.”

  “Oh.”

  Will the twin spoke up. “Our father named us that,” he said, still not looking at me. His voice was odd – sterile and precise like an indifferent history teacher giving a lecture. The girls reacted to him when he spoke, though, forming a small circle and whispering among themselves. Will didn’t seem to care. “Don’t speak of his gift to us in that way,” he stated. “It’s all we have left.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. I really was, too.

  Will stared at Kaiser and shook his head before saying, “It’s not him. I hope you didn’t get too excited.”

  “I didn’t,” Kaiser retorted. “I know how things work. I’m not an idiot.”

  “Whatever,” said the brother. “I’m going to our room. You can take care of the girls now.”

  Speaking of the girls, they watched this little tête-à-tête like spectators at a tennis match, with their heads swiveling from side to side in almost
comic unity. When Will stepped away, tramping toward the door to the right, they all giggled. Just girls being girls, laughing about boys right in front of their faces. Now there was a symbol of normalcy if I’d ever seen one.

  Will slammed the door behind him, leaving behind a trail of resentment. I glanced at Kaiser, who seemed downright sad about what just transpired.

  “I apologize,” he said. “That was uncalled for.”

  “Don’t worry about it, kid,” I replied. “No harm, no foul.”

  The expression on Kaiser’s face, with one side of his mouth crumpled and the eye on that side opened larger than the other, said everything. The kid didn’t get my humor.

  Kaiser swallowed hard then said, “Will’s had a hard time lately. He doesn’t like outsiders much.”

  “I could see that.”

  At that moment, the horrible screeching from earlier returned. It shook the thick concrete walls as if it rose from the dirt beneath us. Silas yelped, scurried to the massive steel door we entered through, and barked. My pulse raced and sweat dripped down my forehead. When I looked to my shelter-mates, I saw looks of apprehension on their faces, as if they were trying to pretend the noise didn’t exist and failing miserably.

  “What is that?” I said. “It sounds like it’s coming from right outside the door!”

  The boy gave me a nervous laugh. “It probably is. It usually hangs out around the air ducts a few meters from here. It’ll stay there for a while until it realizes it can’t get in, then head out looking for food. But after tonight, we won’t have to worry about it for a few days.”

  I shook my head, which was still ringing. “You want to tell me what it is?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Ken,” said Kaiser. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the clamor. “Three years ago the creature appeared out of nowhere. Papa Paul called it Dreadnaught. A huge beast with leather wings that feeds off nature’s life-essence.”

  “Life-essence?”

  “Blood.”

  The screaming quieted. “Oh,” I replied, my voice still louder than it should’ve been. “Like a vampire bat.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A flying rat that drinks animal blood.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Ken. I don’t understand.”

  I shook my head. “That’s okay, kid. I have to remember things here aren’t the way they are back home.”

  “I see, and I apologize,” Kaiser said with a bow. “It must be very strange for you.”

  “You can say that again.”

  Silas moved away from the door and walked past me, brushing his back against my leg in the process. He made his way to the girls and lowered his hindquarters. His tail swooshed across the thin carpet like a windshield wiper. The girls ceased their tense lip-biting and cooed, taking turns running their hands over him. I couldn’t see his face, but I imagined my boy would be lost in ecstasy.

  “Your gi-faht is very special, isn’t he?” asked Kaiser.

  I nodded.

  A tinny sound emerged, like nails tapping on glass. Then the high-pitched wail started up yet again, but I didn’t jump this time. It stopped abruptly, though I was certain I heard the whoosh of an engine from somewhere above us. After that, everything fell silent.

  I turned to Kaiser, who shuddered while he watched the girls play with Silas. My stomach rumbled again, and Silas swiveled his head away from his love-fest to stare at me. I tapped the boy on the shoulder.

  “What is it?” Kaiser asked.

  “We haven’t eaten in a long time,” I replied. “You think you could help us out with that?”

  He smiled. “Of course.”

  Silas and I feasted on two large cans of Dinty Moore. The slop hit my stomach like a rock, but I could feel my strength returning. Any food would’ve been good, even that kind of processed crap. After our meal we downed a bottle of water and snacked on canned peaches.

  “Tell me more about this Dreadnaught thing,” I said to Kaiser between bites. “You ever seen it?”

  “No,” he replied. “Well, yes, actually, but only at a distance.”

  “How big is it?”

  “I’m not sure. Big.”

  “Why’s it here?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Honestly, none of us know anything about it other than it comes out at night and is the reason we live underground now.”

  “Where’d you live before?”

  Kaiser frowned and said, “A village on the other side of the lake. We lived there with Papa Paul and his fellow Isrid, his co-workers, from the day he brought us in. When the Dreadnaught came, it decimated us.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “The children were the first to go. My brothers and sisters, picked off one-by-one. The adults were next. Our numbers dwindled by the night. We took to huddling together in one another’s basements, hoping we could confuse it by hiding, but it always found us. I remember sitting with my head between my knees, holding Will’s hand, when our neighbor Cassandra was taken. It busted through the ceiling, snatched her by the head, and disappeared. Blood splattered everywhere. I was covered with it.”

  He stopped and gathered his breath. His tale had caused my own heart to race, but I didn’t want him to stop.

  “What happened next?” I asked.

  The boy swallowed hard and continued. “After a month, the only ones left were Papa, Will, and me. We took shelter in the community fruit cellar, rebuilding the blockades we’d constructed each morning because the creature tore them down trying to get at us. Papa knew it would only be a matter of time until it did, so he said we had to leave. We crossed the lake. Papa had discovered this shelter during one of his trips to the Outskirts, and so this is where he brought us. We’ve been here ever since that day, almost four years now.”

  “When did the girls come in?”

  “Later. They were part of Papa Paul’s Mission. He would leave the shelter for weeks at a time and come back with one. That’s all I know.” He pointed at the gaggle of youngsters. “Laura was the first to arrive, almost two years ago. He came home, stayed a couple months, and then was gone again, only to return with Amanda, then Tina, and finally Molly. But with Molly, he pressed his luck. He got back too late in the day. The Dreadnaught swarmed him before he could reach safety. Will went to the surface and retrieved the girl before she was taken, but we had no choice but to shut out our beloved Papa.” Kaiser’s voice faltered. “We abandoned him. His screaming rang through the shelter for an hour before it stopped, and the next day we found blood drenching the leaves on the edge of the forest. He was gone.”

  Kaiser wiped the wet streaks from his face. I reached over and squeezed his shoulder. He responded by grabbing my hand and holding it there, acting like the child he should’ve in all rights been.

  “Thank you, Mr. Ken,” he said, an earnest smile on his lips.

  “You’re welcome,” I replied.

  “I don’t believe Will,” he whispered, his eyebrows arched. “You shouldn’t, either. He’s still angry about losing Paul. He hasn’t let it go, and he can’t accept that your being here has been foretold. He can’t accept that you are the one.”

  “The one to do what?” I asked, not really certain if I wanted to know.

  His grin widened. He let go of my hand and went to one of the racks against the wall. Silas, again immersed in the girls’ affection, shifted his attention away from them and watched Kaiser as he took an old piece of pottery that looked very much like one of Wendy’s creations off the shelf, reached his fingers into it, and removed a wad of folded paper. He carried the bit of parchment across the room as if it was a delicate relic worth a fortune and handed it to me.

  “This is a letter, Mr. Ken. Paul wrote it just before he went to retrieve Molly. He said it was only to be given to the one, and only if he didn’t return. He instructed us never to open it, never to read it, until you arrived. And here you are.”

  “How do you know it’s me?” I asked.

  Kaiser winked. “There are some things you don’t have
to know, to know.”

  I held up the letter and stared at it a long time. My hands started to shake. I glanced at the girls and thought of their much-too-familiar-sounding names. I didn’t need it explained to me. I knew exactly who they were and where they came from. And this understanding made me not want any part of opening that paper and reading whatever words were printed there. I was no hero. I could never be what the kid wanted. I was only a guy with a dog who wanted to go home. It had already been two days since I chased a human Nick Goodman into the Green Mountains, and the authorities were undoubtedly searching for me. As for Wendy…she was surely in a state of panic, and all because I took off without explaining anything.

  “I don’t know…” I began. My fingers tapped the wad of papers. I peeled back the corner and stared.

  There, written in my own penmanship, was a single sentence that stopped me cold.

  Dearest Ken, I know this is going to come as a shock to you.

  I just about vomited right then and there.

  31

  Kaiser agreed that I needed time alone to read the letter and led me to the door opposite their room. What lay beyond that door was a smallish space containing a single bookcase jam-packed with various tomes, some that I recognized quite well. There was a twin bed whose sheets and blankets looked meticulously cared for in the far corner. A desk lamp provided weak illumination, positioned atop an ancient but solidly built end table. I searched about the room for pictures, but there weren’t any.

  “This was Papa Paul’s room,” Kaiser announced softly, as if in reverence. “You can stay in here if you like. It seems appropriate.”

  “That’s fine,” I said.

  Silas tore himself away from the girls’ attention and followed me into the room. He brushed past Kaiser and me and curled up at the base of the bed as if he’d been there hundreds of times before.

  “I’m glad you’re comfortable,” I whispered as Kaiser closed the door behind me, leaving us alone. I went over to the bed and sat down.