by Amy Cross
"Aaron..." David starts to say.
It's at that point that Aaron lets out a loud moan. He stares at us, as if he's begging us to help him, and then it happens: all over his body, the skin bursts open and hundreds of spiders pour out of him. He staggers on for another step, with blood pouring from his wounds as the spiders spill onto the floor. Finally he collapses, landing hard and dead against the parking lot tarmac. More and more spiders come crawling out of him. It's hard to believe so many of them could fit inside.
As David and I watch, the spiders scurry away, all of them heading in one direction. They're leaving the parking lot, and soon there's nothing left but Aaron's dead body with one solitary spider left crawling over his face.
"We need back-up," I say. I turn to David, but he's not there. Spinning around, I see that he's already running back to the ambulance. I turn to take one last look at Aaron's body, and then I run after David.
Jason Dunn
"There's a woman on Grove Street who says her cat looks like Jesus."
"Next," I say, not even looking up from the screen.
"There's a guy somewhere near Fitton Park who says chemicals are being illegally dumped in the reservoir."
"Next."
"There's a UFO that's landed by the town hall. Aliens are coming out, firing lasers at everyone."
"Next."
She pauses. "You're not really listening to me, are you?"
I turn to her and smile. "Of course I am," I say, "but I'm at a really important level right now and I can't afford to be distracted."
Paula leans forward and slams the lid of my laptop closed.
"Thanks," I say sarcastically. "Does Angry Birds auto-save or -"
"You're a journalist," Paula says, interrupting. "Write something."
I lean over and grab the pile of sheets from her hand, quickly going through them until I find a news story that captures my interest. "Spiders," I say, reading from one of the sheets. "Two paramedics swear they saw a man burst open and loads of spiders come out." I frown. "That sounds appropriately loopy. Maybe I'll interview them."
Paula sighs, getting to her feet and staring at me with a kind of withering expression. "I need a front-page story for tomorrow, Jason. A big, huge story that'll make people buy the fucking newspaper. Sales are down. Help me reverse the decline. I don't care if the story's about a cat or a bunch of spiders, but make it a winner, okay?" She turns and walks away. I can't help watching her ass as she goes. That skirt of hers is so tight, I have no idea how she manages to walk so quietly.
"Jason Dunn?" asks a voice from behind me.
I turn to find a middle-aged man, dressed in such ravaged clothes that he almost looks like a hobo, standing next to my desk. Honestly, he looks like the kind of guy you'd see hanging around the railroad tracks.
"Depends," I say. "Who wants to know?"
He sits down, fixing me with a kind of demented stare. "I'm Max," he says.
I stare at him, waiting for him to continue. "Okay..." I say. Damn it, why doesn't this office have a 'Psycho button' I can press to summon security? For that matter, why don't we have any security guards at all? Anyone can just wander in off the street.
"You must have heard of me," he says eventually.
"I've... heard of people with the name Max," I say, not really sure how to respond. "Max Schreck. Max Payne. Max Headroom. Fantastic Max. But somehow I think you've slipped off my radar, so..."
"I used to give Dexter Logan all his tips."
I sigh. Dexter Logan was the half-cut hack who worked on this newspaper for a few decades. He wrote crappy stories and spent most of his time researching vampires. Eventually he completely vanished and no-one has ever been able to work out what happened to him. Personally, I'm pretty sure his rotting body will be found one day, with one hand holding up a porn magazine and the other hand clutching his dick. "Dexter Logan doesn't work here anymore," I say. "So... the market for your tips has probably dried up. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and interview someone about a Jesus cat." I gather my things, getting ready to get out of here. Finally, I start to stand up.
"No!" Max says, pushing me back down into my chair. "Listen, I know Dexter Logan was full of shit, but that doesn't mean everything he wrote was garbage. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day." He pulls a file from the bag he's got hanging off his shoulder. "It's all in here," he says. "Vampires. Werewolves. Things you've never even heard of. And they're all linked together by -"
"That's great," I say, carefully interrupting him. "I'll be sure to send you a congratulatory note when you pick up your Pulitzer."
"Look at this," Max says, pulling an A4-sized photo from the file and setting it down on my desk. "You recognize him?"
I look at the photo. It shows a young guy, aged somewhere in his early to mid-twenties, with a distinctively dark stare. I have to admit, there's something very powerful about his eyes. He looks young and old at the same time. "Wasn't he in 90210 a few years ago?" I ask.
"His name's Patrick," Max continues. "He's at least a thousand years old, and he's a vampire. He's the last vampire, 'cause there was a war and -"
"Okay, Max," I say, sighing, "I think we've both wasted enough time here."
"There's more," Max says, dropping more pieces of paper on my desk, almost knocking over my cold cup of coffee. "Lots more."
I pick up the pile of papers and start leafing through them. "You're lucky I'm trying to avoid doing any actual work today," I say as I glance at the titles of each sheet. It seems like a completely random collection of information. There's an article on some nineteenth century British aristocrat, and a biography of some guy named Martin Keller, and what looks like the military record of some Joseph Hart guy. There's also a copy of a grainy old photo showing a bunch of people standing by a rusty old shack, and someone has handwritten the word 'Twomoney' on the photo together with an arrow pointing at a little girl at the edge of the photo. There's loads of stuff in here. "Great," I say, tossing the papers onto my desk. "So you know how to use a printer. Good for you."
"Have you heard of Charles Nimrod?" Max asks.
I nod. "He's some rich guy who moved to town recently. God knows why anyone with money would come to Dedston. I was thinking of digging around a bit, there's got to be an angle."
"Charles Nimrod is part of this," Max insists. "Do you know where he comes from? Do you know where he gets his money? Who he is?"
"Not yet," I say, "but I've got a feeling you're going to tell me."
"Charles Nimrod knows that all of this is true," Max says. "He knows everything. He's here because the prophecy is going to assert itself."
"Okay," I say, grinning, "and there's today's magic word. Prophecy. Have a nice day, Max, I have to go and -"
"Here," Max says, thrusting yet more sheets of paper at me. "It's all on there."
I look at the papers and see that they're basically a load of scans of what looks like some old book. "What the hell is this?" I ask, starting to get a little annoyed.
"It's pages from the Book of Gothos," Max says. "It's where the prophecy was recorded -"
"Max," I say, letting out my biggest sigh yet, "this is -" I glance up and see Paula walking slowly toward us. "Max," I say, raising the tone of my voice several notices, "this could be the most important news story that has ever hit this town." I quickly gather the papers before the approaching Paula can get a look at them. Standing up, I grab Max's shoulder and encourage him to get to his feet. "Come on," I add, glancing at Paula again, "you can show me everything."
"Really?" Max says, sounding shocked.
"Really," I say. I turn to Paula. "Gotta head out. Max here might be onto a big story."
Paula stares at us, not looking very convinced. "Hi Max," she says, "aren't you the guy who used to hang out with Dexter?"
"Y -" Max starts to say.
"No!" I say, interrupting. I put an arm around Max's shoulders. "Max here would never have bothered with a half-rate hack like Dexter Logan. Trust
me, Paula, I really think I've got a big story here." I'm not lying: I'm going to hang out with Max and then write a story about how people with serious mental problems are allowed to wander the streets of Dedston. I might even try to set Max up for a photo where he's holding a nice big knife, or a gun. Good old scare stories work every time. "Now if you'll excuse us," I say to Paula, "Max and I have some business to attend to." I lead Max to the door, and then I turn back and smile at a clearly astonished Paula. "I'll have the story on your desk by 5pm," I shout over to her. "I promise you'll be happy."
And with that, I lead Max out into the bright Dedston morning. That elusive Pulitzer has never seemed so far away.
Todd
In the distance, the TV is on full blast. Mom's in there again, watching show after show. She slept on the sofa last night, and she'll probably do it again tonight. The only time she moves is when she needs to go to the bathroom, and I'm kind of expecting her to even stop doing that soon. At least when Sophie was around, I knew there was someone else to take some of the stress out of things. Sophie was always really good at taking time to hang out with me and play with me. But Sophie hasn't been home for ages, and Mom doesn't seem to have even noticed. It's like something's wrong, but the only person who seems to care, apart from me, is Sophie's friend Shelley. So I guess it's time for me to do something about this. I'm going to go and find Sophie, wherever she is.
I slip into Sophie's bedroom. She used to meet Patrick in here. She thinks I don't know about Patrick, but I do. I used to listen at the door while she talked to him. She'd try to get him to speak to her, and she'd try to get him to tell her what was happening. It seemed like he used to just come and stand around. I didn't always understand what she was talking about with him, but I could tell it was important. And then, gradually, she seemed to start getting deeper and deeper into some kind of trouble. Eventually she'd start going out for days and days without coming home, and finally she just seemed to vanish.
Looking around her room, I try to work out if there's anything she might have left behind that I can use to track her down. There's nothing, though, and I head back out into the hallway and pull out my notebook so I can double-check the preparations I've made for my mission. A few months ago, on my tenth birthday, Sophie gave me this notebook. I was supposed to use it for my first day back at school. Knowing that I've been bullied lately, Sophie wrote - in big letters - the words 'Be Brave' several times on the front. She told me it was to remind me that I have to stay strong at all times. I never used the notebook, but now I'm using it to write down my plans for finding my sister.
"Todd!" my Mom calls out. I freeze. Standing in the hallway, I listen for any sign that she might be getting up from the sofa. All I hear, though, is the low buzz from the TV as some talk-show continues. Eventually I hear Mom sigh. She probably assumes I've gone to the store, though I don't know what money she thinks I'll use. We're almost broke.
I creep toward the door again, determined to make sure she doesn't hear me. The last thing I need is for her to tell me she needs a sandwich or a bag of potato chips. Worse still would be if she told me she needs the bathroom. It always takes half an hour to get her up off the sofa and through to the toilet. Then I always have to wait outside while she does her 'business', and then I have to go in and help her up. I hold my breath every time, but it takes too long and I always end up smelling what she's been doing. It's not fun, and I'd do anything to get out of having to help her.
Heading to the front door, I reach down to the door handle, but I spot a spider crawling over the metal. I grab a tissue from my pocket and use it to brush the spider away, and then I open the door.
Getting outside, I pull the door shut and then I turn and run to the sidewalk. I'm finally out of the place! It's not quite lunchtime yet, and I figure I've got six or seven hours before I have to get home. If I'm out much later than sundown, Mom might actually start to worry. Plus, she needs my help: I don't think she can really look after herself properly. So I have to be smart and quick, and I have to work out the most obvious places where Sophie might be. Fortunately, I've already done some planning and I've got a few ideas worked out in my notebook.
I can't afford to take a bus, and I haven't got a bike, so I walk. Fortunately it's not raining, and the streets are pretty empty this far out from the center of town. I'm heading for the center of town soon, initially to the library, which is one of the places where Sophie used to spend a lot of her time. I don't know if she still goes there, but I guess I can hang around for a while and check. If that fails, I'm going to go and look in the center of town where the shops are. If that doesn't work, there are some people I know she hung out with. But before all of that, I'm heading out of town. I'm going to the forest.
It takes me almost an hour to get to the railroad tracks that mark the edge of town and the beginning of the forest. Once I'm walking through the trees, I pull out the map I drew in my notebook. Once, last year, I followed Sophie out here one day. She didn't know I was watching as she wandered around for a while, but eventually she reached some kind of opening and she walked into what I think was an old mine. I didn't follow her down there, because I was worried she'd catch me, but I've decided it's the best place to start. If Sophie's trying to avoid being found, this is probably one of the first places she'd go.
It takes me a while to find the opening, but eventually I'm standing there, staring into the darkness. I was going to bring a torch, but it turned out we didn't have one at time. I take a deep breath and remind myself that although I'm scared, I'm on a mission to find Sophie. I take a step into the tunnel, but suddenly I realize something's moving in the darkness and moments later a bat flies straight towards me. I step back, catch my foot on a tree root and fall to the floor. Looking up, I see the bat flying up and away.
I get up and decide I have to try again. There's no way I can simply give up, even if there are thousands of bats down there. I take another deep breath and step into the entrance. No bats this time. I take another step. This isn't so bad...
As I get further and further along the tunnel, I find that it's getting much darker. Soon I won't be able to see a thing, and I might have to turn back. But eventually I realize there's light up ahead; not a lot, but enough for me to still be able to see. I keep going and soon I realize the tunnel is going deeper underground. Eventually, it starts to open up and I find myself stepping into what appears to be a huge chamber, with small amounts of light getting in via a series of gaps near the roof.
It takes me a moment to get used to the relative darkness. At first I think there's nothing in this large chamber, but then I see there's something in the middle, on the ground. Stepping closer, I see the broken ruins of something large. It's almost as if there used to be a house here. Large beams of broken wood are scattered about, and it looks like there's a bloodstain on the ground. I've got no idea what used to be down here, and what it's got to do with Sophie, but I'm pretty sure she was here. Is the blood hers?
I pick my way through the rubble. There are whole sections of walls that seem to have collapsed. Whatever happened to this house, it was almost completely destroyed. Finally I spot what appear to be some books on the ground. Some of them are burnt, but some of them seem to have survived. I pick one up, but I don't understand the language that's been used to write it, and it looks like an old book with no pictures. Dropping the book, I keep walking, trying to work out what I'm looking at and how this all links to Sophie's disappearance.
"Sophie?" I call out, suddenly realizing she might actually be down here. "Sophie?" My voice echoes around the huge chamber, making it seem larger and emptier than ever. I wait, listening out in the vain hope that I might hear her voice calling back to me, but all I hear is my own voice echoing into the distance.
Something moves nearby and I look over to see a large spider walking carefully across the rubble. It's about the size of a fist, with long thin legs. I'm not scared of spiders, but I've heard that some of them can be venomous. I decide to j
ust wait for this spider to get away from me, but suddenly it stops. For a moment, I feel as if it's actually looking at me, and I start to worry that it might try to attack me, but slowly, it starts walking again. I watch as it heads away into the gloom.
I swallow hard. My throat is dry.
"It was just a spider," I say to myself quietly. "Just a spider." I have to keep going...
As I wander across the chamber, it becomes clear that Sophie isn't here. In fact, I'm starting to think that this whole place is abandoned, but then I notice something on the far side. My first thought is to turn and run, but I remind myself that I'm looking for my sister. I reach into my pocket and pull out the notebook; on the front, there's still that space where Sophie wrote 'Be Brave' lots of times, to remind me of what I have to do.
So I keep walking...
As I reach the far end of the chamber, I realize that I've found a set of stone steps. They lead down to an even deeper part of the chamber, though it's so dark down there that I can't see a thing. I walk down the first few steps and see that there's a faint light in the distance.
I pause.
Taking a deep breath, I look at the cover of the notebook one more time: Be Brave. It feels as if Sophie is reaching out to me from wherever she is, and reminding me that I have to be brave if I'm going to find her. Maybe she wants me to look for her. Maybe she needs my help...
Putting the notebook back in my pocket, I make my way cautiously along the corridor. The air feels different down here, as if it hasn't been disturbed for a long, long time. It's weird, but I've got this really strong feeling that I'm not supposed to be here, like the tunnel itself is telling me to turn and run. It's so dark, I can't really see where I'm going, but there's the distant light for me to aim at, and eventually I reach what seems to be some kind of underwater river. The walls are made of bricks, but a narrow river runs slowly through the underground space. In the distance, I can hear something dripping. Stepping toward the edge of the river, I look down at the dark water, and then I look up and see sets of human skeletons nailed to the walls. I've never seen a skeleton before; not a real one, anyway.