by Pro Se Press
Paulette led me through the main areas with ease before we finally slipped into a hallway that had been roped off, then another, and another. The areas here were pure blackness. I couldn’t see anything and Paulette kept hold of my wrist as the two of us crept through the darkness of the tunnels.
I fished a small flashlight from the pocket sewn into the side of my suit and clicked it on. The hallways here were less organized; the bones were sloppier, slumping to the side in a shapeless mass of faded ivory.
“We are a few miles from the entrance,” Paulette said softly, “Keep close.”
The two of us moved as one shadow through the tunnels. Paulette would occasionally stop and direct me to point the light down different pathways before she would choose the way we needed to go. I tried to keep track of all of the turns, but I was getting disoriented.
A crunching and creaking noise began to echo in the chambers, building and building until I was sure that the sound was going to make the collection of bones clatter to the ground around us.
Paulette looked at me and without a word I knew to turn off the light. The world flickered back to pitch black as the crunching noise grew louder. I grabbed Paulette and pulled her back into one of the bone filled chambers. The bones were stacked high and tight, but we were able to crawl over them, ducking down in the small alcove between bone and wall. Pressing my cheek against the rounded end of a femur I closed my eyes and focused on trying to breath as silently as possible.
The noise came through the floors, vibrating in time with dull, thudding footsteps that crunched and groaned. There was a scraping of something hard against the walls and my stomach went into a pin tight spiral at the sound too close to nails on a chalkboard.
The bones in front of me shook and I felt the pile shift as the bones were pulled out and clattered to the floor before there was that cracking sound like the opening of the shell of a nut. I felt Paulette go rigid and press her back further against the limestone wall, there was nowhere else to hide or go.
The wall of bones in front of us was thinning out and a blast of hot rot hit me and made me put a hand to my mouth to silence my innate gagging.
And then the noise stopped, the bones fell still and a familiar British voice called out, “Come on you barmpots, there’s nothing good here. Stop wasting time and move to the west tunnel.”
The shuffling crunching noise began again; fading slowly down the tunnel, and only then, when the world had gone silent I dared to breathe again. Paulette was already moving, climbing over the bone pile and back into the hallway, “Hurry up,” she hissed.
The bones glided and shifted under my weight and I thudded lightly back onto the Limestone. The ground had several cracks and indentations in the shape of feet.
“I do not know what those creatures are, but I would be very happy to never see them in the light.” she shook her head, “Come, we keep moving.”
After some hesitation I pulled the flashlight back out. The walls had fewer bones, they were scattered across the floor; most were broken and crushed into fragments and dust.
The smell of dirt made the air heavy as we continued through the halls. Somewhere, the sound of the strange creatures echoed lightly, and I just hoped we weren’t heading towards them.
Eventually we reached an area where all of the bones had been picked from the caverns in the walls; all that remained were a few battered pieces on the ground. A few torches had been bolted into the walls and they cast a low amber glow on everything.
Paulette knelt down to look at one of the bones left on the ground when that same nail-against-chalkboard noise raked across my brain and I felt sick. Lurching towards us was a group of men all dressed in rotting rags. Their skin was a sallow yellow and was so thin that I could see their bones just under the surface. Their eyes were pure black, no pupils, nothing but emptiness. Their feet were heavy, shaking the ground with every step they took towards us.
Before Paulette or I could react to move away, one of the creatures struck Paulette, she crashed into the wall and struggled to her feet, gun in hand. She fired a shot and the bullet cracked into the man’s skull. His head rolled back and he hit the ground hard.
I grabbed Paulette and yanked her to her feet as I pulled out my own gun. “Shit.” I heard Paulette mutter beside me, “The Chiffonniers…They are real.”
There were a lot of these things, a lot more than we had bullets for, “Get your knife ready Paulette.” I cocked my pistol, and aimed carefully. Every shot had to count.
My first shot hit the closest one between the eyes; he dropped, knocking down the two behind him. The next three shots rattled in quick secession, taking down three more with clear precision. Paulette fired off her last shot, and worked with her knife, though it did little to stop the men. Their skin would rip and peel off, exposing bone but not stopping them.
In another shot my gun was empty and the crowd of creatures hadn’t even slowed. I saw one grab Paulette by her hair and slam her head into the limestone wall. The cracking sound made my stomach roll.
I struggled to get to Paulette’s side. Punching, kicking and fighting my way to her. I took a few down, my knuckles burned and bled, but I wouldn’t stop until I was able to reach Paulette. Just as I touched her arm, I felt a sharp tug on my ponytail and then found myself flying into the ground. The world went suddenly dark and still.
I woke with a searing headache that burned from my temples down to my neck. I was in a large, lightly lit alcove that only had a few skeletal remains tossed around beneath my feet. My arms were tied above my head, hooking me to the wall. Twisting my wrists, I struggled to slip free, but only managed to knock myself off of the hook and to the ground. The air knocked out of me, I stayed still for a moment, just trying to remember how to breathe.
With a few awkward contortions, I was able to pull the thin emergency blade from my shoes and began quickly sawing through the ropes that bound my hands. Occasionally the blade slipped and gashed against my skin but I didn’t care, I was beyond letting a simple cut dissuade me.
As I sawed I tried to inventory myself. The weight at my hip was gone so I knew my gun was gone. The throbbing in my head and neck had subsided, mostly at least, and I could wiggle all of my fingers and toes.
The thin blade sawing through my binds wouldn’t be much good against those things, hell; it was barely cutting through the rope. Tossing off the last of the rope, I stood and went to see what I could find. There was no sign of Paulette or Pascal. Only two torches were lit and they flickered wildly, casting shifting shadows crawling over the floors.
Kicking around a few of the piles of bones, I realized there was really only one option left if I wanted to defend myself. I grabbed some of the rope and a few of the smaller broken bones. Carefully knotting the bones together and tying them around my knuckles, I tried to plan out what to do. I needed to try to find Paulette, Pascal and Amaury, then figure out what was going on. Who was that British guy and what were those things?
The bone knuckles were awkward and I knew they would make moving my fingers in small motions challenging, but they would pack one helluva punch. I threw a few test jabs, letting my fists slice the air. With the right blow I knew I could crack skulls.
I spotted some scratches in the wall and began to follow them back into a hallway. There were fewer torches to light the way and I had to keep a tentative hand to the wall to keep myself on path. More bones littered the floor and I struggled to not stumble over them all.
The scent of rot and dirt hit me hard and I steadied myself against the wall. Those things were close.
I slid forward and peered into a large cleared out chamber. Inside I could see Pascal tied to the wall. He was bloody and unconscious, but I could make out the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was alive. Standing near him was a group of those rag and bone men, the British man and a strange woman.
The woman was wrapped in a cloak with only her head exposed. She was close to my age, I guessed, with dark hair that had been
adorned with bones. Her pale skin was translucent and when the light from the torch hit her I could see the lines of her skeleton.
“Shall we finish him?” the British man asked her, “He’s swine.”
The woman ran her hand down Pascal’s throat, pressing two sharp nails into the soft hollow of his throat, “Leave him alone, Richard. We have no shortage of bodies here. Don’t be so hasty to add more to our collection.”
“And what of the women we found in the catacombs?” The man, Richard, asked, though his hand remained on the sword at his side, his gaze firmly on Pascal.
“Bring them here and leave them. I would speak with them, see what news they bring with them,” she smiled, “But please Richard, try to behave and treat them well enough.”
“Of course,” he lowered his head in a small bow.
“I’m going back to my chamber, come get me when the women are here.” She reached over to softly tousle his hair before leaving the room, heading out of the exit to the north.
Richard watched her disappear from the hall before pulling the sword from his side, and moving for Pascal, “Sorry chap, no hard feelings but I think it’s time you have a little accident.”
My feet moved before my mind realized what I was doing. I hurled myself through the throngs of the creatures and launched, fist first, into his face. The crack of his jaw sent a thrill through me as I caught my feet, skidding to a halt in front of Pascal.
Blood oozed from Richard’s nose and he’d fallen to his knees, hands to his face, “Get dat bith!” he sounded out and the creatures rushed at me.
I kept my arms moving, punch after punch, aiming at anywhere I could find to hit. I didn’t stop until one went down and then it was straight on to the next. They were slow and heavy, but they went down after a few blows to the head.
One grabbed my left wrist and started trying to pull me off the ground. Before my toes left the ground I threw an uppercut, crashing through his jaw and sending his head slamming backwards. It snapped at an unnatural angle and his grip fell from my wrist.
I caught the next one in the ribs and then the temple. It seemed to go on for days until I was left panting, gasping for air and barely able to stand with a hoard of those things around my feet.
Richard had managed to get back to his feet, his eyes were starting to swell black and blue and his nose was still bleeding. His sword unsteady in his hand, he turned towards me.
I was still panting, shoulders slumped and heart racing as he charged me. I rolled to the side, metal blade whizzing overhead and clanging against the ground.
I grabbed a handful of dirt before staggering back to my feet as he whirled to charge me again. The dirt flew into his face and he choked, coughing, and blindly beginning to flail the sword.
I waited for the right second to duck under his arm, just missing the sword and punching with all the energy I had left. I felt my bone knuckles crack as his nose collapsed and lunged upward into his brain. His eyes went suddenly open, too bright for just a moment, before he fell to the ground and didn’t move again.
I collapsed near him and wheezed for air. My arms were on fire, my hands were numb, my chest was going to burst and I thought I would never be able to breathe normally again. I knew I’d never fought that hard before in my entire life and I wasn’t sure I would be able to find the energy to even stand back up.
I didn’t know how long I lay on the ground before I finally got onto my hands and knees and crawled over bodies and bones and back to Pascal. I had to use the wall to help get back to my feet and begin untying the Frenchmen.
He seemed to be stirring and woke before I had managed to free his hands. “Where’s…Paulette?” he groaned.
“Dunno. They grabbed her when we came down here looking for you.” I slid back down the wall to the ground and closed my eyes for a few moments.
Above me, I could hear Pascal moving, his shoulders and neck popped before he sat beside me, “Any idea where she is?”
“No… the ringleader girl went out that way, and I came from that hall so I guess the third hall is probably the best place to start.”
“Well, come on then.”
I heard him stand and reluctantly opened my eyes to look up at him, “Just a minute to rest?” I asked as he collected Richard’s sword from the ground.
“Come on, you’re the Pulptress. Get up. Let’s go get my sister and Amaury.” He offered his hand.
With every muscle in my body protesting, I took his hand and let him help pull me to my feet. We began slowly walking through the last tunnel leading out of the room. My feet were dragging and I felt like I was making more noise than an elephant as I made my way behind Pascal.
The Frenchman was very quiet, he walked with a faint limp, and I could see bloodstains down the back of his shirt. I wondered how bad his injuries were, but he refused to stop to let me look over anything.
It was only a few stumbling feet down the hall before we found Paulette, tied unconscious to the wall. Pascal pulled the knife from me and went to untie her, carefully catching her before she could hit the ground.
“She look okay?” I asked.
Pascal nodded, “She looks hurt, but is breathing.”
He softly shook her, “Paulette, wake up. We need to move.”
Paulette groaned softly and opened her eyes, “...You’re not dead.” she smiled faintly.
Pascal laughed, “I know you’re disappointed but try to get by.”
“Paulette, can you stand? We need to keep moving.” I asked, I was anxious to find Amaury, stop that bone-woman, and to get out of this place. I’d never been so eager to see the sun again.
“I think so,” Paulette said as she gingerly put her weight on one leg, then the other. She winced faintly, “Ah, that’s a bit sore, but I’ll live, don’t worry.”
Pascal kept his eyes on her, but didn’t move to try to pick her up or coddle her.
“We have any weapons left?” Paulette asked, “All of mine are gone.”
I held up my hands, bound with rope and bone, “I’ve got these and that knife that cut you free.”
“This sword,” Pascal held up Richard’s sword, “But I think that’s it. We’re going to have to be careful.”
“When am I not careful?” I smiled and Paulette shook her head.
“Let’s just get this done with. I want a cigarette,” Pascal grumbled.
We kept quiet as we moved back through the hallways and finally took the path the bone woman had taken.
It was thinner than any of the others. It looked like it had been carved more recently, the walls didn’t have the puckered, tired feel of any of the other chambers. There were no alcoves, not even any bones littering the floor. It was utterly empty aside from a few very small torches lit along the way.
“This was not here when we were children,” Pascal murmured, hand to the wall, “Someone has been carving new paths. How could they do that without someone knowing?”
“The same way that an army of Chiffonniers has been raised without anyone knowing?” Paulette countered, “How often do you think these chambers are checked? Not this far out, not often.”
“Sh...” I hissed, “Listen, that noise. It’s those things again.”
I had almost not heard that telltale scraping, thudding noise, and the growing odor of rot in the air.
“Chiffonniers,” Paulette whispered as Pascal raised the sword and pushed his sister behind him.
There was nowhere to duck, nowhere to hide as those things thundered down the hallway at us.
Pascal lunged forward, piercing through two of the rag and bone men and throwing them to the ground. I stood my ground and let Pascal drop the brunt of the approaching mass of pale and sickly bodies. Any that he missed found their skulls crushed with a punch. Their bones felt like paper, only a soft moment of resistance before everything caved in and they collapsed.
Their only drive was to go forward. We’d take down one wave and rush forward only to run into another mob of them, th
ere seemed to be an endless supply of these things.
“Damn!” Pascal was panting and leaning against the wall. Paulette shoved him aside and took the sword.
“Your turn to rest.” she took up her stance before looking at me, “Try to slip ahead. We can take down these rag monsters. We will never find Amaury at this pace.”
I glanced at the pair, leaning on one another, red from exertion but still wanting to fight. Paulette was right, but I doubted that the two would be able to keep standing much longer.
“Go on, we’ll be fine,” Pascal smiled, “And when we meet above ground we will have a nice glass of wine, oui?”
“Of course,” I nodded, “and if you need to run—”
“Just because we are French does not mean we run from a fight,” Pascal snapped, “We are here to win, not to show them our backsides, now leave!”
I reluctantly left the two as the next wave crashed into us. Paulette’s sword distracted the thugs long enough for me to slip through their hoard and disappear down the hall. The sounds of their fighting seemed to echo after every step I took until it finally faded out of range as I reached a fork in the tunnel.
I squinted into each of the two branches; I couldn’t see a thing. The branch to the right smelled like rot and mold; the one to the left just smelt stale and stagnant. I trusted my gut and turned down the left tunnel. If there was one thing I could almost always count on, it was my gut instinct.
The tunnel was pitch black for the first hundred feet or so, until torches appeared on both sides just a few feet apart. It was the most light I had seen since entering the catacombs and I had to close my eyes against the brightness to adjust.
A few more blind feet forward and I stumbled into a sheet of black silk draped over the end of the tunnel. I momentarily panicked, pulling away from the fabric and backing down the hallway. When my heart made its way back into my chest, I crept back to the silk and peered passed it.