by Ray Garton
When the scream sounded again and was followed by quiet, cold laughter, they all moved a little faster, even Lacey and Doc, who began to drag Bent's bare feet between them.
Ed beckoned Shockley with a jerk of his head and the two of them moved through the dark, narrow passageway ahead of the others, guns ready.
Lacey's skin felt as if it were shriveling as she moved into the purplish haze of the dungeon. Even the gunshots had not heightened her fear; the dungeon itself was terrifying enough. She felt ill suddenly when she saw the figure moving at the other end of the large room, standing before a doorway where once there had been a repulsive goat-headed statue. Her eyes were too preoccupied with that familiar figure to pay attention to the fact that the hideous statue had been swung open like a huge door.
Ed and Shockley began to fire at once. Bullets ripped loudly through the air, hit the flat-black walls, threw bits of concrete over the floor, and ricocheted with sharp whistling sounds.
Lacey watched Dr. Corbus hit the floor. Her teeth ground together behind tight lips and she began to breathe rapidly through her nose as she thought, Hit him! Hit him! Shoot him and kill him! Kill that monster! Before she realized her mouth was open, she was shouting the words: "Kill him! Kill him!"
Bent opened his mouth and began to make pathetic groaning sounds, fearful sounds. Although his head was leaning heavily forward, Bent's wide eyes were locked on to Dr. Corbus, and he babbled in terror, "Tha's him! Tha's the one! He did this! He took my fingers!"
At the same time, Samuel lifted his head weakly and turned it just enough to see the room they were in and catch a glimpse of the man across the room, who was now trying to crawl behind the edge of the doorway to shelter himself from the bullets.
At the very sight of that man, however brief, Samuel began to scream and cry. Tears welled up in his eyes as his entire body began to convulse with fear in his father's arms. Confused and frightened, Ethan held the boy close, turning his wide eyes to the face that peered, now and then, around the edge of the doorway and the hand that popped out like a puppet to fire a gun toward them all.
"Hit the floor!" Ed shouted. "Take cover!"
They did. They rushed forward and ducked behind the altar upon which Lacey had sacrificed a doll filled with jam.
When she leaned against it, Lacey noticed that it moved. It was quite heavy, but it was movable. She glanced down at the bottom comer nearest her and saw the bottom third of a wheel beneath the rectangular, black marble structure.
There was more gunfire — the ripping of the machine pistols and the cracking of Dr. Corbus's pistol — and then there was another sound ... the slow rumbling of something heavy moving over the floor.
Dr. Corbus's laughter echoed through the room.
"He's closin' the fuckin' door!" Ed shouted.
After lowering Bent to the floor carefully, Lacey and Doc peeked over the top of the altar and saw the statue swinging slowly back in place as Dr. Corbus's laughter faded resonantly into the passage that lay beyond it.
Ed and Shockley kept firing. Bullets kept ricocheting and knocking bits of black concrete onto the floor.
Lacey turned to Doc and hissed, "Help me with this thing! It's on wheels and it's heavy! But we can block that — that thing with it! Are you up to it?"
Doc gave a jerky nod, then turned to Ethan and rasped, "Stay low, Padre!"
As the statue rumbled gradually back into place, Lacey and Doc began to push the heavy altar, squatting behind it. They moved slowly at first, but steadily picked up speed, making a rumbling of their own over the floor.
Once the gunfire had stopped and they were certain it would not start again, Lacey and Doc stood as they kept pushing. Lacey pushed with both hands, although she still held the machine pistol in her left; Doc pushed only with his left hand, holding the gun in his right as the glistening bloodstain on the right side of his suit-coat continued to spread.
Ed and Shockley were on their hands and knees, getting up from lying facedown on the floor where they had been while firing at Dr. Corbus. When they spotted Doc and Lacey, each one of them gave them a look that fell somewhere between curious and angry. They shot to their feet and Ed growled, "What the hell're you two doing!"
They ignored him.
The statue was less than six feet from covering the passageway and closing surprisingly fast.
"I said what're you doing?" Ed barked.
"Shut up," Doc said, his ravaged voice surprisingly loud as he pulled the altar away from Lacey, moved around to the end, and began pushing it by himself as the statue continued closing ... closing ...
The doorway on the other side was invisible now, and the opening was disappearing fast.
Doc dropped his gun as he steered the altar over the floor, his eyes narrowing with pain as he pushed and pushed, until —
— the black marble altar was lodged in the opening just as the statue-wall closed on it with a heavy thunk ... and stopped.
Everyone froze and suddenly the only sounds in the room were Bent's quiet babbling and Samuel's crying, which was muffled as Ethan pressed the boy's face close to his chest ... and the sound of Dr. Corbus's echoing footsteps fading quickly down that passageway.
Then, a pained voice rose with great effort. They turned to the bleeding woman sprawled on the floor who, amid the confusion and gunfire, had gone mostly ignored.
"Bluh ... blow it up," she wheezed.
Lacey hurried to her side. She was followed by Ed and Shockley, then Doc. All of them leaned over the woman, trying to hear what she was saying.
"Jacquie?" Lacey asked. "Dr. Melton? It's Lacey."
"This is not Dr. Melton," Shockley said, trying to catch his breath. "This is Dr. Deanna Brooks."
The woman ignored them. Her face seemed to be growing whiter by the second. Her eyes clenched and she moved her lips frantically until words came out: "Duh-Doctor Cuh-Corbus ... he's going to blow up the en ... entire com-complex. Stuh-stop him."
"Dr. Corbus? Blow it up?" Ed asked with a shade of dread in his voice.
"He has a ... a pager ... a beeper that he ... keeps on his belt. It's ... a detonator. He has a way out ... just for him. When he gets ... far enough away ... he's gonna bluh-blow us all ... up."
Ed shot upright and slapped Shockley's back. "You stay here and keep an eye on 'em. I'm gonna get that pigfucker!"
He turned and ran toward the narrow opening and jumped onto the altar easily, his feet clattering over the marble top. Then he disappeared into the passageway after Dr. Corbus ...
8
Lacey knelt beside the bleeding woman on the floor. Her jaw was set as she stared into the half-closed eyes.
"Who are you?" she asked, her lips curling into a sneer. When there was no response, Lacey clutched the woman's collar and pulled her a few inches from the floor, pulled her face close to the barrel of the machine pistol. "Who are you? Really?" "Brooks ... Dr. Deanna ... Brooks."
Lacey's eyes widened as her lips bunched together in anger. "You mean ... the one on the radio? The child psychiatrist?"
Panting, the woman nodded as her eyes closed slowly, then she breathed, "Pluh-please ... help m-me ... I've been shot, I-I'm ... bleeding ...”
Lacey ignored her plea and did not let go of her. Instead, she leaned forward until her face was inches from Deanna's. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" Lacey screamed into the woman's face. "Getting on the radio and saying all that shit about how everybody should treat kids ... and then doing this! To us!"
Suddenly Lacey dropped her — the back of Deanna's head smacked hard against the floor — moved back, and stiffened her arms, holding the machine pistol between both hands as she pressed the barrel hard between Deanna's eyes.
Shockley wrapped a hand around both of Lacey's wrists, jerked them away hard, and pressed his mouth to her ear. "You kill her now, we've got nothing. If she lives, we've got a damned good witness to everything. And believe me ... dying's too good for her, anyway. She lives and she'll get a hell of a lot mor
e punishment than death. She'll get public humiliation like you wouldn't believe ... not to mention the sudden hatred of all her colleagues and every fan she ever had. Even people who've never heard of her will hate her guts. You got me?"
Lacey jerked her wrists from his hand and her right forefinger wrapped around the trigger. She could still shoot the woman. Her finger trembled with the temptation and her lips quivered with hatred ... but Shockley was right. She lowered the gun.
"Good girl," he said. "Let me tell ya, you're gonna enjoy watching what she's got coming to her."
Lacey bowed her head, "If we get out of here," she said, her voice dry and hoarse. "He's gonna blow the place up." She was surprised by the tears that suddenly flooded her eyes, splashing the floor before her knees.
Shockley put an arm around her, a fatherly gesture, an attempt to comfort her.
"Don't you worry about a thing," Shockley said. "Ed's gonna get that son of a bitch before he even knows what hit him."
Although Lacey's head remained bowed to hide her tears, Shockley turned his eyes away from her so that she could not see what was in them. He was certain that his eyes betrayed the fact that he did not believe a word he had just said, and he did not want the girl to know ...
9
Ed ran as if he were being chased by the devil himself. The stark, narrow passageway lit by garish fluorescent lights in the ceiling curved this way and that, like a snake slithering over the ground.
The machine pistol was in Ed's right hand, and his finger was on the trigger and ready to fire.
Running footsteps echoed ahead of him.
Ed ran faster, determined to catch up, to close the space between them. Because if he didn't, everyone he'd left behind would be dead.
And so would he ...
10
Dr. Corbus ran fast and with great confidence. In fact, he smiled as his feet pumped against the concrete floor of the passageway.
He had anticipated the possibility of an armed pursuer, which was precisely why he'd had the passageway built in a curving, serpentine way. It could have reached his destination in a straight line, but he would have been a sitting duck to anyone behind him with a gun.
He could hear the footsteps behind him, and they sounded heavy. He hoped that whoever was chasing him was big and lumbering, like one of the two men who had been shooting at him earlier. Dr. Corbus was thin and lithe, and despite his fragile and pale appearance, he was in good shape. He could no doubt out run anyone burdened by as many muscles as the dark-haired man who had flattened out on the floor to fire at him.
He didn't have far to go now. The ladder would come into view soon. He would climb it and disappear, and they would be locked in the complex — all of them — to die ...
11
"Daddy ... please ... can we leave here?"
Samuel's voice was barely more than a whisper as he looked up at Ethan through teary eyes.
Ethan's eyes were moist as well, and he could not blame his son for wanting to leave this place. He wanted out as well. He'd been looking around for the past few minutes ... at the repulsive man above them on the upside-down cross ... at the other sick devices in the room ... and he could not help wondering what horrible things had been done here ... and what horrible things had been done to his son here.
"Don't worry, big boy, we'll be getting outta here real soon," Ethan whispered into Samuel's ear, his big arms wrapped around the boy's small, frail body.
"Promise, Daddy?"
"I promise. Oh, yes, I promise. Would you like to say a little prayer about it, huh? Ask god to give us a hand?"
Samuel nodded slightly against Ethan's shoulder.
Ethan leaned his head down and said, "Close your eyes." Ethan closed his eyes as well, then whispered a short prayer into Samuel's ear, asking god to watch over them and please help all of them to get out of this horrible place safely.
After the prayer, neither of them spoke.
During the long silence that passed between them, Ethan bit his lips together as tears poured from his eyes. He had his son now ... but what about Loraina? What about Anice? He lowered his head and pressed his cheek against Samuel's back.
Where's your faith? Ethan thought. Why pray if you don't believe in the power of prayer? Why be a pastor if you can't let go of your fears and have faith in the god you worship?
"Daddy?" Samuel muttered hoarsely.
"Yes, baby?"
"Can you tell me a story? Please? I-I'm ... I'm scared."
"Well, it's okay to be scared, you know. I'm scared, too. And ... I think god understands our fear. I really do. But yes, I'll tell you a story. Um, how about ... your favorite?"
"Yeah, my favorite."
"Okay, my boy, you've got it ... I'll tell you about Daniel in the lion's den ...”
12
Ed knew he was catching up. Not only could he tell that the running footsteps ahead of him were closer than they were before, but he could feel it, he could feel it in his bones! This guy was his. And he could probably hear Ed coming, closing in on him, so he was certain the guy was losing his confidence. As a result, Ed began to smile as he ran.
He also wondered where this snakelike corridor led. Where was this fellow planning to escape? Into the woods? Where? Maybe, just maybe, he was so crazy that even he did not know where he was going.
Chances were slim, but Ed could always hope.
Then, the footsteps ahead of him stopped quite suddenly.
Thinking the man might be turning back to confront him, Ed slowed to a stop and waited a moment, the machine pistol ready in his right hand. He heard something that he recognized almost immediately: the clanking of feet on the rungs of a metal ladder.
Ed began to run again, trying to cover the lost ground as fast as he could ...
13
At the top of the ladder, his head inches from the ceiling, Dr. Corbus slid aside a small, rectangular panel in the wall to his right. Beneath that panel was a keypad.
Still holding the gun in his right hand, Dr. Corbus used the second finger of that hand to hit the appropriate buttons, smiling slightly as he did so. The numbers were 666-13. He found it humorous that those were the numbers that most people would associate with him.
A square section of the ceiling popped open a crack. He looked up, pushed it the rest of the way open, and started the rest of the way up.
Once that opening was closed, anyone beneath it who did not know the combination was trapped down there. And, of course, that meant everyone.
He pulled himself up out of the square hole, crawling over the floor above the ladder ...
14
Bent squirmed over the floor, his arms and legs moving this way and that. He groaned and mumbled, his face sparkling with feverish perspiration. His wide, darting eyes seemed to be seeing things that were not there.
Lacey knelt beside him.
"You're okay," she said reassuringly, putting her hands on his bare, damp shoulders. "Don't worry, you're okay, everything's okay. We'll be outta here soon and we'll get you to a doctor, okay? That sound good?"
Bent muttered something that Lacey did not understand.
She leaned closer and asked, "What was that?"
"Izzee gone? The man? Who did this? To my hands? Izzee gone?"
Lacey's eyebrows gathered hard above the bridge of her nose as she looked down at Bent, who didn't seem to be seeing anything at all.
"Yes," she said, trying to sound encouraging. "Yes, yes, he's gone. He won't be coming back."
"Can I ... huh-have some wuh-water?"
"In a minute. In just a few minutes. I promise."
It made her sick to say it, because from the look of the man, she feared he would be dying very soon now. She hated the fact that the last thing he might ever hear was the lie she'd just told him ...
15
When Ed saw the metal rungs buried in the concrete wall, he covered the last several feet even faster, not even bothering to start with the bottom rung. He jumped up fro
m the floor, his feet landing five rungs up, his left hand clutching one rung, while three fingers of his right hand, still holding the machine pistol, clumsily grabbed another one higher up and pulled.
He looked up and saw two feet dangling over the edge of the opening above him. The feet disappeared almost instantly.
They were replaced by a hand that clutched the square trapdoor that stood open. Then a face appeared.
The pale, bearded man looked down at him, smiled, then began to laugh as he leaned back.
Ed could tell he was ready to slam that trapdoor shut.
Even as he continued to climb, Ed raised the machine pistol and fired upward.
The man cried out and fell backward.
Ed stabbed his right arm forward, stopping the trapdoor with the barrel of the machine pistol before it fell closed.
He rushed up the ladder, knocked the trapdoor the rest of the way open, and found himself in a very dark room. He removed the flashlight from his suitcoat pocket.
He found his adversary facedown on the floor, trying to get up.
"Don't you fuckin' move!" Ed shouted.
The man froze.
"Okay, now, you just stay right where you are. I'm gonna move toward you and you aren't gonna twitch a finger. Right? You got me? Don't even breathe, you son of a bitch!"
There was a long pause as Ed moved closer to him ... silence and stillness ...
... then the man rolled over with his gun raised and fired a shot.
The bullet hit Ed in the right leg, just beneath the knee. The bullet missed his shinbone by a fraction of an inch as it ripped through his calf and Ed hit the floor. But he held back his pain, swallowing it like a gush of vomit. He did not make a sound; neither did he let go of his gun or his flashlight. But he could not control the blurring of his vision. For a long moment all he saw was a blurry, sparkly bar of light coming from his flashlight.