TORMENT - A Novel of Dark Horror

by Jeremy Bishop

  He held a finger to his lips, pointed first at his eyes and then around the corner.

  Mia took a peek and saw a man, skinny and frail looking. He leaned against the olive-green sidewall of the next house between the brick chimney and red bulkhead, catching his breath. It’s a runner, she thought, and where there are runners, there are—

  “I don’t want to do it!” a shrill voice cried out. “Someone stop me. Please, God, someone stop me!”

  The runner yelped at the sound of the voice, but remained stuck in place, shaking uncontrollably.

  Austin swore under his breath. “He’s going to lead them straight to us.”

  Hearing the question buried within the statement, she wondered the same thing, should we use him as a decoy? She nodded. Austin jumped from this hiding place and shouted at the man. “Gah!”

  The man jumped up from his hiding place and ran into the road, making for the opposite side of the street. The response was instantaneous. A chorus of voices rose up and whatever horde was hunting on the opposite side of the neighborhood, between them and the river, gave chase. They’d catch and kill him, again, but it would clear the way for those still living.

  As they ran past the last house on the street and headed for the stand of maple trees that concealed the river bank beyond, Mia wondered if agreeing to such a brutal distraction would make her escape from this place less likely. She was already an adulterer in her own eyes. Was she an accessory to murder now? No, she thought, he’s already dead.

  The man’s scream ripped into her. Not dead, she told herself, damned. And if she didn’t find time to stop and think things through, she would be one of them soon enough. The woods across from the neighborhood greeted her with thorns, scratching her exposed skin and tugging against her clothes. She fought against the clinging vines and pain, following Austin’s broad back. The man moved like a tank, never slowing even through the thickest of the thorns. He just grunted and pushed forward.

  She wondered how he kept going. She was the only one left for him to protect. When she died—she had no doubt Austin would outlast her—what would he do? With no one left to save, what would Austin have to live for?

  Before she could dwell on the question, they emerged from the woods, standing above a strip of water-worn brown stones. Beyond the stones lay the stagnant yellow river. And beyond that, the opposite shore where a concrete staircase led up a steep slope to the back of a massive brick mill.

  She could visualize the place in its heyday. Acrid smoke rising from the ten smokestacks. Laborers at work. The river thick with pollution. Maybe it had been a shoe factory. A tannery. A rubber plant. Whatever the bright red remnant of the industrial revolution had been before, it now promised refuge from the killing fields of the city streets. And she wanted nothing more than to find some dark corner inside where she could get herself right with God.

  But it seemed God had other plans.

  The surface of the yellow river rippled. A pale body bobbed to the surface. Then another. Hundreds more followed. The drowners. She sat down as the sea of people sputtered and screamed for help, tearing at each other, fighting for lives they couldn’t possibly save.

  Mia sat down on a large chunk of smooth granite and wept. The desperation in the drowning voices struck a nerve. “What did they do?”

  Austin looked at her. “What do you mean?”

  “To deserve this?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “It does to me.”

  “The only thing that matters is the living. And I mean those of us that are really living. Not this.” He pointed to the bodies as they sank back down beneath the water. “And right now, that’s you and me. If we can lose the killers in the city and get clear, maybe we can—”

  Mia laughed. “You don’t really think we can survive this, do you? We’re going to die. Sooner or later, probably sooner, we will both be killed. The only question is whether or not we’ll come back, or stay dead.”

  Austin shook his head slowly. “I don’t believe that. I can’t give up on living. I won’t let you die.”

  “This isn’t living,” Mia said. “And even if we aren’t killed, we’re not going to last much longer. When was the last time you ate? Or drank? We have no supplies, and I’m not about to touch that yellow piss of a river, are you?”

  Austin stared at the water as the last of the bodies drifted back down.

  “We have a day—maybe two—before we get dehydrated. It’s time to face death, face God, and—”

  “God,” Austin said, his voice full of disdain. But he said nothing else. Instead he stepped toward the water. “They’re back down. Now or never.”

  Mia contemplated staying. She still wasn’t ready for death, and thought for sure the dead would rise up and drag her down again. But the horde might find her here, and surrounded by drowning victims wasn’t exactly the best environment to sort out whether or not she deserved mercy. Because if she couldn’t forgive herself for her betrayal, how could Matt. How could God?

  If there even was a God. Maybe Austin was right? Maybe there were other survivors further north. If this was just the way the world had become and the dead simply ceased to exist, shouldn’t she fight to live, like him, instead of accepting death like some sort of religious martyr?

  Austin slipped into the water, pushed out and began swimming. When he wasn’t instantly pulled under, Mia followed him into the ammonia scented liquid and began swimming, keenly aware that each downward kick of her feet struck a drowner’s floating limb and that sometime in the next minute or two, those limbs would start grappling for the surface, and anything, or anyone, on it.

  47

  It’s piss, Mia thought. I’m swimming in piss!

  Her water-logged clothes made swimming laborious, and her muscles burned from the effort. Each breath, tinged with the smell and taste of ammonia, combined with the water pressure around her chest made breathing hard. And then the yellow liquid sloshed into her mouth. She gagged, spitting and coughing. Treading water, her legs tangled down into the brown depths.

  “Don’t stop!” Austin said from the far shore. He’d just pulled himself out of the water.

  But Mia didn’t hear him. She was lost in disgust at first, and then her leg struck a body below her. Fingers grazed over her thigh. She shouted and kicked, but the wild motion only slowed her down. She struggled only ten feet from shore, but it could have been a mile as far as she was concerned. I’m not going to make it. I’m not going to—I’m not ready!

  “Help,” she sputtered, dipping under the water for a moment. She opened her eyes and saw heat lightning in the sky above, tinged yellow by the water. When she surfaced, her eyes burned and rainbow halos bloomed in her vision.

  “Swim!” Austin urged.

  She turned her body toward the shore and reached out to begin a stroke, but a small splash to her side drew her attention. A stark white naked body—man or woman she couldn’t tell—had surfaced just a few feet away.

  A cry, like some kind of animal, rose from her chest and exploded out of her mouth. It repeated when a second body rose up. “I’m not ready!” she shouted.

  She felt a tug on her leg, like a fish testing a lure. She kicked away, frantically reaching for the shore, moving slowly.

  As more bodies rose to the surface, the first few to arrive began coughing and hacking, clearing their lungs of the foul liquid. The drowning would start soon, and she’d be caught in the middle of it.

  She clawed for shore. A body rose up next to her. A man. He was large and sported a yellow-stained handlebar mustache. His dead, white eyes stared at her for a moment. He returned to life with a scream. He reached for her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling down, fighting to stay up.

  Mia went under. Her mouth filled. She felt her gun fall out of her pants. It would be impossible to retrieve. Then, just as quickly as she’d been pulled under, she broke the surface. She saw flashes of Austin pounding the mustached man’s face and felt herself dragged to shore.
The hard warm rocks on the shore felt more comfortable than any bed she’d ever slept on, and she longed to sleep and forget this horrible world. But Austin wouldn’t allow it.

  He nudged her. “We need to move.”

  A large part of keeping people alive had to do with keeping them aware and moving. A slow, injured or unconscious person was nearly impossible to save, especially while on the run. When she didn’t reply, he shook her shoulder.

  She moaned in response.

  He hated what he did next, but there was no choice. Austin took careful aim and slapped Mia square across the cheek. Her eyes burst open and she sat bolt upright. Before she could realize what had caused the pain, he got right down in her face and said, “Get up and get moving now or you will die.” He took hold of her arm and yanked her to her feet, his former gentleness gone.

  Austin’s rough approach snapped Mia awake. She could see fear and anger in his eyes, but also concern. She was the last survivor under his care, and she could see that he was terrified she would die. She realized he felt more afraid of losing her than he did about his own death.

  She stood on wobbly legs, found her balance and took a step toward the remains of an old concrete stairway. She took hold of the rusted railing and hung on it. Water poured from her clothes and while the coolness felt good, the smell clung to her. She wondered if she would ever be free from the stink, but when Austin nudged her up the stairs she realized she wouldn’t have much time to care.

  Mia took the first step and her leg shook from the effort. Kicking through the water combined with nearly drowning had sapped the life from her legs. But a single sentence from Austin propelled her up the stairs.

  “I can hear them,” he said.

  Them.

  The killers.

  If they could get up the stairs and into the mills then maybe there was a chance the horde would lose track of them.

  Mia tripped on a landing halfway up, where the staircase turned ninety degrees. She fell to her knees, reopening the skinned wounds. The sharp sting energized her. She pushed off the concrete, and launched up the stairs.

  “Keep it moving,” Austin encouraged.

  They reached the top of the stairs a moment later, crouching behind the last few steps and looking over the top. They couldn’t see anyone, but they heard plenty of voices, in front, and behind.

  Austin looked back. The killers pursuing them had yet to reach the river. But he knew it wouldn’t be long.

  He stood and ran across the parking lot to the back of the mill. Mia followed. The long brick mill was falling apart in places, the result of the nearby nuclear explosion, but it looked solid enough—a fact they confirmed a moment later when Austin attempted to open a green metal door at the top of a short stairway.

  “Locked,” he said.

  Mia moved on without waiting. She dropped down into a loading bay where a large green garage door led into the mill’s basement. “Here,” she said. She gripped the door’s handle and pulled. It opened with a loud metallic groan. The sound made her cringe. Someone must have heard it.

  The door jammed a foot from the ground.

  “Good enough,” Austin said. He lay on his back and wriggled beneath the door. Halfway through, he stopped and braced the door with his arms. “Slide under.”

  Loud voices echoed around the back of the mill. The loud garage door had attracted some nearby killers.

  Mia dove for the door, dragging herself into the darkened interior.

  Austin rolled inside behind her. The door dropped, bouncing to a stop. The voices arrived a moment later. The thick metal door muffled the words, but the apologetic tone was impossible to mistake. The bottom of the door hovered an inch from the floor, leaving a crack through which they could see daylight, and feet. The killers outside were inspecting the door. Feet shuffled back and forth. Hands slid across the rough metal. One of the killers, against her will, lay down outside the door, peering beneath the crack.

  Austin and Mia lay only five feet away, but darkness concealed them. They could see the woman in the bright light of the heat lightning. Her dark brown eye searched the darkness for them, but the eyebrows were turned up with worry. Despite the fervor with which her body hunted, she wanted nothing to do with it.

  When the woman’s head shifted away and she stood, Mia sighed with relief. But a moment later, she heard hands grip the handle outside.

  Austin saw what was about to happen and knew he had to act. But what could he do? Killing the people outside would be a temporary solution. A minute later they would be back on the hunt again, and they would know he and Mia were hiding inside. If he used his gun, the sound would attract even more killers. As the door started noisily sliding up, he acted without thought.

  In two quiet strides, he reached the door, took hold of the handle on the inside and held it tight. The door stopped moving only an inch higher than it had been before, simulating a jam. The door shook as the killers outside tried two more times to pull it up, but Austin held steady. As long as one of the killers didn’t look under again and see his feet, the jam might be convincing enough to turn them away. But a sharp breath from Mia coupled with a shifting shadow below denied him an easy escape.

  He let go of the door and took a leap away. He stood still, holding his breath. The woman’s eye returned, scanning the darkness.

  Austin moved a hand to his handgun. If they tried the door again, while the woman was looking, they’d be found. The woman stood again and after a moment, the shadows outside the door moved away. A distant scream started them running.

  Mia and Austin let out long breaths and stayed there, silent, in the dark for fifteen minutes. They felt safe in the quiet dark. Alone. Without a word shared between them, they lay down and fell asleep, exhausted from the chase.

  As the first hour of sleep passed, the scuffling of several hundred pairs of feet shifted past the garage door. By the time they woke up, three hours later, the mill was surrounded.

  48

  When Mia awoke on the floor of the subterranean loading dock, she wasn’t sure if she was really awake, or if this was part of some dark dream. When she heard the shuffling feet and familiar apologies uttered just outside the large garage door, any doubt that she was dreaming crumbled. The nightmare had not yet ended.

  With her eyes adjusted to the dim light provided by the slightly open door, she searched the room. Buckets of old paint hung from hooks on the ceiling. There were overturned wheelbarrows against the far wall and buckets of old pavement sealant. Half of the garage floor was taken up by a five foot stack of crumbling tar roofing sheets, possibly removed from the roof at some point long in the past. The floor beneath her was covered in oil stains from years of leaky trucks.

  No wonder it smells so bad in here, she thought, and then remembered that as bad as all the tar, paint and oil smelled, the odor lingering since her dip in the ammonia-stinking water was far worse, and impossible to escape.

  Just like them, she thought, looking at the shadows shifting outside the door. She turned around to where Austin had been and found the floor empty. She spun around, searching for him, too afraid to even whisper his name.

  She stood and found that while her legs, and most of her body, ached, the severe energy drain from crossing the river had faded. But a strong thirst scratched at her throat. She tried swallowing some spit to moisten her stinging throat, but there wasn’t much.

  Fear overrode her hunger and thirst. She turned toward the loading ramp at the back of the garage. A large doorway led to darkness beyond. Only way out, she thought, and headed for the door, her breath shaky with fear. Her hand scraped against the rough, cool bricks as she balanced herself on the wall. She stopped next to the door, afraid to enter the darkness alone.

  But she had no choice. She could stay and wait for Austin, but she didn’t know where he’d gone or when he might return. Maybe he’d even gone scouting for something to eat and been killed. If she stayed here much longer, listening to the killers just outside the
garage door, she’d go insane long before she died of dehydration.

  Mustering her courage, she turned toward the dark opening just as a large hand reached out for her. A scream built in her throat, but a second hand covered her mouth. Austin’s face came out of the gloom next, worry lines on his forehead. After Mia had caught her breath and calmed, he whispered, “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Likewise,” she replied.

  Austin motioned to the dark hallway. “I found a way upstairs.”

  “Did you go up yet? Is it clear?”

  “I’ve only been gone a few minutes. Didn’t want to go too far without you.”

  Mia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Thanks.” She looked at the shadows moving at the base of the garage door. “When did they come back?”

  Austin shrugged. “They were there when I woke up. C’mon, let’s put some distance between us and them.”

  He took her hand. The warmth of his skin sent a shiver up her back and covered her arms with goose bumps. His strength and confidence reassured her. If he was right about finding other survivors, about eking out some kind of life in the north woods, she felt glad it would be with him. She followed him into the dark without question.

  She couldn’t see anything in the hallway, but Austin held onto her hand, navigating them past unidentifiable debris that smelled like dry mold and rust. When he stopped, she walked into his back and nearly fell. But he turned and caught her. “Careful. The stairs are just ahead.”

  In that moment of closeness, Mia didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to find out what was above them. She didn’t want to run anymore. She just wanted to stay inside that safe embrace and never leave.

  Austin removed his arms and pulled her a few feet further. She heard the creak of a stair as Austin put his weight on it. She saw the staircase in the dim light seeping through the cracks around the closed door at the top.

  Austin took another step. The stairs creaked again, making both of them cringe. Any noise felt like too much noise.