by Amy Cross
Making her way through the crowd, Judy couldn't help glancing over her shoulder to check whether the figure was still watching or, even worse, had started to follow. By the time she got to the archway on the far side of the dance-floor, where several people were taking a break to talk, kiss and check their phones, she turned and scanned the faces all around. She felt a sigh of relief for a moment, not seeing the skull-masked face, before spotting him a little off to the left. Taking a step back, she realized that he'd followed her while still keeping his distance, and she watched for a few seconds as the club's flashing lights picked out the skull's features in alternating red, green and brilliant white light.
“Whoops,” a guy said, bumping into her from behind ,”sorry, love.”
Ignoring him, Judy turned and headed through into the brightly-lit corridor that led to the bathrooms. All around, people were texting, kissing, arguing and in some cases leaning against the walls as if they were about to throw up. She checked over her shoulder, worried that the strange figure would follow again, but by the time she got to the bathroom door she realized that at least this time there was no sign of him.
She pushed the door open and made her way through, only to find that the bathroom was like a scene from some kind of horrific, disco-themed war movie. A girl was sobbing in the corner, comforted by her friends as her make-up ran down her face. At the sink, another girl was doing a terrible job of fixing her hair, while the sound coming from one of the cubicles indicated that someone was in the advanced stages of throwing up the entire contents of their stomach. Taking a step forward, Judy felt something wet against her feet, and she looked down to see that water from the soaking wet floor had slopped onto her open-toed shoes. Nearby, a huge pile of wet toilet paper had been left next to one of the walls, along with a few empty glasses.
Feeling a brief spasm of pain in her belly, Judy headed to the sink and began to wash her hands. Glancing at her reflection, she saw her own dark-ringed, mascara-smeared eyes staring back at her, and then slowly her gaze moved down to her midriff. In the back of her mind, she was starting to worry that the skull-faced figure on the dance-floor hadn't been some party-goer who'd managed to sneak a mask past security.
She was worried it had been a figment of her subconsciousness, a way of reminding herself that whatever was happening in her belly was serious.
Chapter Nine
“Ruth, my dear. How are you finding your first night here at the villa?”
Stepping out onto the patio, Ruth saw that Mr. Velucci was sitting over by the far wall, looking out across the dark gardens and toward the town down below. Even though the town was lit up and pulsing with the music from hundreds of bars and clubs, the air up at the villa felt strangely calm and cool in the moonlight, as if Mr. Velucci had his own private world high up above the chaos of Mallaca.
“It's quite beautiful from this vantage point, isn't it?” Mr. Velucci continued. “I haven't been down there for many years now, I tired of the constant energy drain, but from up here I can certainly appreciate the poetry. Thousands of people are down there right now, drinking and eating and making themselves ill, some of them even fornicating in alleys or on the beach... Sometimes I feel that this is how the human race should be, that this is some kind of heaven.”
“Is that Apocalypse?” Ruth asked, stepping over to join him and spotting a large, particularly bright building down near the beach.
“My biggest club,” he replied. “I'm not above profiting from the people who flock here to Mallaca. The money I make from the town is more than adequate to fund my other activities.” He smiled as he watched her for a moment. “You look lovely tonight. I hope you're settling in well.”
“It's wonderful up here,” she replied, turning to look over at the shimmering blue pool. “Your home is like nothing I've ever seen before.”
“You must think of it as your home too,” he told her. “During your working hours, I expect absolute dedication. At the end of the day, however, I want you to relax and refresh. It's good for you, and it's good for me too.” He paused, eyeing her with a hint of amusement. “Let me guess,” he continued finally. “You're trying to work out how a girl from a small English town, a girl with no education and no real prospects in life, has ended up in a place like this.”
She turned to him. “Well... Not in so many words.”
“The paths that lead us through life are strange,” he added. “Still, I believe that there are mystical forces that move people to where they need to be. We are but pieces on a chessboard, Ms. McCoy, and I am absolutely certain that something or someone wanted you to be a part of what I'm creating here on Mallaca.”
“What exactly are you creating?” she asked, turning to him. “I'm sorry to be nosy, but you didn't really explain it before.”
“That's because I don't feel at liberty to divulge everything yet. Let us just say that I have made contact with something that exists beyond the human experience, something that is biding its time and waiting to emerge into the world and show its form.” He watched her for a moment, as reflected light from the swimming pool shimmered across her face. “I believe that we here in Mallaca are on the verge of witnessing an event of profound cultural, political and religious significance. I believe that a new savior is about to be born.”
She frowned. “A new savior? Like...”
“Like Jesus?” He smiled. “No, not like Jesus. Something much more powerful, something real and strong and magnificent.” As she turned to look back out across the town, he let his gaze linger on her waist. “Something that now merely requires a vessel that will bring it into this world. It has already found that vessel, of course. Yes, I'm sure of that. The moment is fast-approaching when the Pure One shall arrive.”
“You make it sound like...” She paused, smiling nervously. “Well, you know.”
“Like what?”
“Like you're trying to create, like, a new religion or something.”
“That's a very old-fashioned way of looking at it,” he replied, turning to look down at the lights of the town. “Why do people come here, Ms. McCoy? Year after year, why do the young and vibrant people of the world flock to Mallaca and try to lose themselves in the lights? Why do they attempt to obliterate their senses in an orgy of sound and sensation?”
“Um...” She paused. “Well, I guess the cheap drinks are a big part of it.”
“Perhaps.”
“And Mallaca's got a kind of reputation, at least in England. There are always stories in the papers about all the English people who come out here every summer and get wasted. I know some of the locals think they're destroying the town and that the whole thing is wrong. The local police force even complained a few months ago that Britain should pay some of the bill for dealing with all the drunk people who come out here to Spain and cause trouble.”
“You won't hear such complaints anymore,” he replied. “I made a donation to the local authorities that will more than cover the costs of cleaning vomit from the gutters each morning.”
“So you like Mallaca being like this?” she asked.
“I believe that in flocking here every year, young people are recognizing, on some deep, primordial level, that Mallaca is home to something unique. They are like the revelers who dance and sing in the grounds of a temple, awaiting the revelation of a new power. I remember going to pagan festivals in England, and watching the bare-chested girls put flowers in their hair and dance as the sun rose. What is happening here at Mallaca is really not so different, not on a subconscious level.” He smiled as he watched the lights of Apocalypse, in particular, flashing in the town below. “They come here because, without realizing it, they want to witness the dawn of a new era. They're like ants gathering at the edge of a volcano. And one of them, perhaps out there right now, is carrying the Pure One.”
Feeling a little unnerved, Ruth forced a smile. She was already starting to feel as if Mr. Velucci existed in a world of his own, but she figure she could deal with his regula
r speeches.
“Perhaps you would like to swim?” he said after a moment.
“Oh...” She turned and looked toward the pool, but although the water was inviting, she felt it was getting late. “Another time.”
“I hope you'll make use of the pool,” he continued, heaving himself up from the chair and making his way to the edge of the water. “I'm sure you'll agree that it's one of the most striking features of the villa. I have the temperature constantly regulated to ensure that it's three degrees cooler than the surrounding air at all times.” Slipping out of his gown, he stood completely naked with his back to Ruth, allowing her to see the thick scar that ran down the right side of his back and onto his buttocks. “There are times when I feel I can hear the water calling to me, inviting me to submerge myself in its wondrous embrace. I can never resist.”
With that, he allowed himself to fall forward, crashing into the water with such force that Ruth had to take a startled step back to avoid getting splashed.
A moment later, Mr. Velucci swam to the surface and raised his head, taking a deep breath.
“Are you sure you don't want to come in?”
“Another time,” she replied, feeling distinctly uneasy. “I was actually thinking of getting to bed. I want to be up early to get things started in the morning.”
“Of course you do,” he said with a smile. “Sleep well, my dear, and I look forward to starting our professional relationship bright and early. If you would like to join me for breakfast on the lawn before eight, feel free.”
Heading to the door, Ruth couldn't help but glance down toward the town. She looked at one of the darker patches near the beach, and she felt a hint of sadness at the thought of Javier down there alone, in his apartment above the tattoo parlor. Even though she knew that the job at the villa was a big step up, there was a part of her that was going to miss the crazy old days down on the strip.
She just wished that, in grabbing something new, she hadn't had to leave so much behind.
***
“Wait, come back!”
Sitting up suddenly in bed, Javier looked around the dark room for a moment as the dream faded from his mind. He'd been running, chasing someone through a large house with white stone walls, and then...
He tried to remember, but it was gone.
Over by the window, an almost empty bottle of whiskey glinted in the moonlight. From outside, the sound of loud music could be heard thumping along the strip from the nearest of the many bars.
Getting to his feet, Javier wandered toward the bathroom door. The nightmare, whatever it had been about, had left him sweaty all over. He stopped by the window and looked down at the sketches he'd been working on earlier in the night. Picking up one of the pieces of paper, he tilted it toward the window, letting moonlight fall on the page to reveal the pencil and ink drawing of a round black mass with several thick tentacles hanging down. The image had popped into his head as if from nowhere, yet now he was starting to think that maybe it had come from his dreams.
Looking out the window, he saw the bright lights of Apocalypse a little further along the strip. There was not enough money in all the world to get him to ever go to a place like that. Glancing up at the darkness above town, he saw a faint light in the hills and realized that Ruth was up there somewhere in Velucci's villa. He figured he was probably overreacting, but there was a part of him that couldn't stop worrying about her, even though he knew that of all the people he'd ever met, Ruth was more than capable of looking after herself.
He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and took a sip, before figuring that he might as well just finish what was left.
Chapter Ten
“I'm gonna hurl, I'm gonna hurl, I'm gonna -”
Before she could finish, Kay leaned forward and vomited a bright green mix of cocktails into the gutter, while Judy and Merrie held her from either side.
“It's okay,” Judy said, trying not to look at the foul substance that was running into a nearby drain outside the back of the nightclub. “Just get it all out. You'll feel better.”
“I'm sorry,” Kay whimpered, “I'm not usually like this. I can usually handle my drinks. This is like that work do in Southend all over again.” She took a deep breath. “Do you think maybe someone slipped something to me?”
“You had eight shots and five cocktails,” Merrie pointed out. “You did this all by yourself.”
“Yeah, but -” Suddenly she threw up again, this time accompanied by a sound that would have seemed more at place in a film about an exorcism. Following this with a faint whine, she leaned a little further forward, waiting for the next round of illness. “This doesn't normally happen to me...”
“What time is it?” Judy asked.
“About two,” Merrie told her.
“Great.” Glancing around, she spotted a girl in a yellow dress stumbling out of the club, looking in an even worse state than Kay. “Do you think she's okay?”
“I'm sure she's got friends who'll pick her up,” Merrie replied.
“But what if she doesn't?” Judy continued, watching as the girl swayed and wandered away toward the strip, making her way to the crowd. “Should we go after her?”
“Some random girl?” Merrie asked. “Hell, no. Seriously, we can't go trying to help every stranger we see who looks even slightly out of sorts. We're not here to be Samaritans, we're here to have a good time. Anyway, they've got people who do stuff like that. Cops and stuff.”
“I think there's more,” Kay whispered. “I think -”
This time, she brought up not only more of the cocktail, but some chunks of kebab.
“Maybe we should get home,” Judy muttered, watching as the girl in the yellow dress disappeared into the distance. “Back to the hotel, I mean.”
“Okay, I'm cool,” Kay said, suddenly getting to her feet and turning to look at the club's door. “I think I just got my second wind. You guys ready?”
“Are you sure?” Merrie asked.
“Totally. The night's still young. I got the worst out.” Stumbling slightly, Kay headed back inside, leaving Judy and Merrie sitting on the pavement.
“You've got to hand it to her,” Merrie said after a moment. “That girl has iron guts.”
“Are we really going back in?” Judy asked as they both got to their feet.
“Don't let your excitement show too much,” Merrie replied with a smile. “I think we're sticking around until the goddamn sun comes up! Or at least until the place starts chucking out.”
Glancing over her shoulder, Judy couldn't help but think about the girl in the yellow dress. She hadn't even seen the girl's face, but something about her had really struck a chord and she couldn't shake the feeling that something hadn't been right. She regretted not going over and at least asking the girl if she was okay, but she knew it was too late to try to find her now. Following Merrie back into the maelstrom of the club, she looked at her watch and figured that she still had three or four hours to go before she could get to bed.
***
“A plumber,” Colin muttered as he leaned under the sink and tried once again to remove the u-bend. “Mate, when you said you'd got a good job for me here, I kinda figured it was as something more exciting than -”
Before he could finish, the u-bend came away in his hands and he pulled back just in time to avoid being soaked in old, scummy water. Tossing the section of piping aside, he sat up and looked around the bathroom.
“This definitely isn't what I had in mind,” he added
“It's entry-level,” Greg replied, passing him a replacement piece. “Chill, man. The important thing is that we're here, we're a part of Apocalypse. Now we're in, we start working our way up the food chain like...” He paused, trying to think of a suitable analogy. “Well, like worms.”
“I don't want to be a worm,” Colin told him as he leaned back under the sink and starting maneuvering the new section of pipe into place. “No-one said anything about being a worm. I came to Mallaca to live a life of
sun-drenched hedonism, punctuated by regular steamy affairs with bikini-clad young ladies. I sure as hell didn't think I'd end up on my knees in a broken-down bathroom, trying to get the wrong bits to fit with other wrong bits under a goddamn sink.”
“It's entry-level, man.”
“If you say entry-level one more time,” Colin said firmly, “I'll ram one of these parts up your entry-level. It's like there's some kind of -”
Stopping suddenly, his eyes widened with horror as he saw something thin and black curling out from the top of the pipe. He stared, convinced that there had to be some kind of mistake, before realizing that the very tip of the tendril-like shape was turning and brushing against the wall, as if it was reaching out and trying to determine its surroundings.
“What the bleeding...”
“What's up?” Greg asked.
“There's something in here,” Colin replied, watching as the tendril turned again, this time so that it could quiver in his direction. “Mate, there's something alive in the pipe!”
“You what?”
“Come and look!” Reaching over, he grabbed Greg's arm and pulled him down to see. “It's some kind of -”
He froze as he saw that the tendril was gone. All that was left was the end of the pipe.
“Are you alright?” Greg asked. “Is this some kind of naff joke?”
“There was something there,” Colin continued, reaching out to grab the pipe before thinking better of it. “There was something coming out, like some kind of snake or... Maybe like an octopus tentacle.”
“Coming out of the plumbing?”
“I'm not making it up!”
“Are you on something?” Greg asked. “Mate, you're acting weird.”
“There's something in the pipe!”
Sighing, Greg leaned past and grabbed hold of the pipe, twisting it loose from the connector.
“Careful!” Colin hissed.