“Where is he?” shouted Simon. “Can anyone see him?”
“I can’t see anything!” called Spence. He’d climbed to the ceiling and showed no signs of budging.
Simon strode into the centre of the room, the exact spot where the tentacle had emerged. He kicked, sending a splash of water in the air.
“Nothing.”
20.
An archway led away from the machines and into another plain room, its only feature a dulled metal hatch on the far wall. The hatch contained a long handle, the middle connected to the centre of the door by a thick cylinder. Nat thought of the doors on submarines or bank vaults. Jacob stood before it, arms crossed on his expanse of chest. Jenkins waited patiently beside.
“Are we going through there?” she asked Max.
He nodded.
Jacob grabbed the handle at each end and pushed. His biceps bulged. The fabric of his jacket, ending just below his shoulders, grew taught and looked ready to tear.
He tilted his head up and emitted a roar. The handle moved clockwise a few inches but nothing more. Jacob released it and rubbed his hands together. He stared at the bar for a few seconds and tried again, crouching lower and arching his back. The handle turned, reluctantly at first, but then, as it loosened and spun around ninety degrees, Jacob tugged the hatch open.
Darkness lay behind it.
Max leaned in and brought his mouth close to her ear.
“You go first,” he said. “There’s a ladder on the right as you go through. Be careful. There’s quite a drop.”
Great, Nat thought. First the ice cold water, now the risk of falling to my death.
“I said it wouldn’t be easy,” said Max. “Hold on tight and you’ll be fine.”
Nat walked forwards and quickly crossed the small room. She stopped in front of the open hatch and leaned in. Her head poked over the edge.
The light from the room illuminated a wall some ten feet away, on the other side of the vertical shaft. Looking down, the bottom was concealed in shadow, like the shaft reached to the very centre of the earth itself.
She twisted her head around to peer up the shaft but it appeared the same. The vertical tunnel ascended into darkness.
“I can’t see anything,” she called back.
Something touched the middle of her back. For a moment, she feared a push and falling head first into the pit.
She felt Max’s body lean against her.
“Give me your hand,” he shouted. “I’ll guide you to the ladder.”
Nat stared down into the abyss below. “I… I can’t do this—”
“Sure you can. Trust me.”
He gingerly took her left hand, and with his arm around her back, they leaned further in together. Nat squeezed her eyes shut. Her feet were on tip toes and she imagined Max suddenly moving his arm away and her body overbalancing.
Their arms, joined by the linked hands, entered the darkness to the side inch by inch. Just as Nat thought her arm wouldn’t reach any further, her fingers brushed something attached to the wall.
“Can you feel it?”
“Yes,” she said, her eyes still shut tight.
She expected the ladder to be cold and slippery. Everything down here seemed to be covered in rust or mould or slime. But the ladder felt warm and dry, probably kept that way by the warm draught rising up from below. The breeze drifted across the bare skin of her arm.
“Now you have it, keep hold,” said Max. His hand lingered for a moment on hers before sliding away. “This is the scary part.”
Nat nodded. Max moved away, giving her the space to twist her body and push away from the floor with her feet. She sat on the edge of the hatch, her hand still tightly gripping the ladder. Taking a deep breath, she slowly eased her legs over the side. Her feet dangled over the void.
“So slow,” said Jacob, his voice booming over the machines.
“Shut up, Jacob!” Max said.
Nat ignored them and shifted her weight over to the left. After moving as far as the hatch would allow, she explored the dark with her foot, eventually finding a rung of the ladder. Steadying herself and refreshing her grip, she swallowed.
’Eere we go, girl, said the voice of Monique. Let’s show ’em what we made of!
Nat dove forwards, into the dark.
“He has to still be in here,” said Richie, scanning the water.
“What is this thing?” asked Simon. “A fucking octopus?”
“I don’t know,” Richie said. “I couldn’t see a thing under there.”
In the corner Kev burst from the water.
The boys jumped back.
He waved his arms furiously, trapped amid thin, blue tendrils. They convulsed and tightened, trying to bind Kev’s arms to his body. A concentrated mass of tentacles covered his face in a living mask. His cries leaked out, muffled and choked.
Spence wailed and clung onto the wooden bars like the mast of a sinking ship.
“It’s on his face!” cried Simon.
Johan, the closest to Kev, raised the metal bar in two hands. He focused on the thing attached to Kev’s face.
“What are you doing?” said Simon.
Johan ignored him and waded forwards another few steps.
The pulsating tangle of tentacles parted.
Are those? No, they can’t be. Johan blinked. Hands? Little tiny hands?
Johan’s arms shook, and he tightened his grip on the bar. Saliva trickled from the corner of his mouth. He crept closer, raising the bar higher.
“You’ll hit him!” Simon said. “Don’t swing that thing or you’ll hit him…”
Fuck it, Johan thought. It’ll kill us if we don’t kill it first.
Kev lurched in the water. The tentacles whipped around his body, and he plunged back into the water.
“Don’t let him go under again!” said Richie.
Johan paused, the bar still held high. He heard Simon and Richie splashing through the water towards them.
Kev bobbed, not quite floating on his back. The thing shifted a little and revealed more of his face. His right eye almost bulging from its socket. Blood gushed from his forehead and dribbled down into his eye. He blinked, his sclera staining from white to a dark pink.
Johan stared at the small hand that gripped Kev’s cheek.
With a cry of his own, Johan let the bar fall and dangle in his left hand. Without thinking, he plunged his free hand forwards and down, straight into the blue mass on Kev’s face and wrenched it free.
“Johan!” Simon said. “What’re you doing?”
The thing writhed and shuddered.
Johan held it at arm’s length and squeezed his fingers tight into the coil of tentacles. It felt like a handful of worms, all squirming against his skin. The creature wailed, crying its protests at being restrained.
“Kill it!” screamed Richie from behind. “For God’s sake, kill it!”
Kev attempted to climb to his feet, still moaning. The skin of his forehead had been ripped open. He clamped his hands against the wound and fell back in the water.
“Help him up,” said Johan, his heart pumping.
Richie nodded and rushed to his friend’s aid. Simon also lent a hand.
The thing in Johan’s grasp thrashed, the shorter tentacles whipping against his hand and wrist. The longer appendages hung down, their tips dangling in the water. They spasmed and curled.
Johan swallowed and slowly turned the creature around.
From within the tangled, blue mess, a baby’s face peeked out.
“Christ!” he yelled, almost letting go.
The baby, features screwed up from shrieking, stared at him with tiny eyes like dark sapphires. Emitting a small coo, the baby smiled and displayed rows and rows of sharp incisors.
Johan shook his head, mouth hanging open.
The chamber filled with hacking laughter, which swept around the room from all directions. Johan kept his gaze locked on the baby, his fingers clutching the back of its skull.
“Where the hell is that coming from?” said Simon.
Spence, still clinging high up on the wooden bars, looked down. “What is that thing?”
Kev and Richie backed away in the water. They neared the hole.
Expecting another tentacled beast, perhaps the baby’s giant, angry mother, Johan chanced a look over his shoulder.
From within the pram parked in the corner, a gelatinous red blob sat up and laughed. The pram rocked back and forth, creating small waves in the dank water. It gripped the edge of the pram with a skinless hand and threw its head back. The puckered mouth opened wide, and it resumed its laughter with a new found vigour.
“Nat…” said Simon, sounding deflated. “Oh Christ… Nat… where are you…”
Johan’s legs trembled.
Richie and Kev dove for the hole. Above them, Spence remained on the bars of the cell, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth a thin line.
A long tentacle brushed Johan’s leg and instantly whipped around it. The coil tightened around his thigh.
Johan screamed and lifted the baby higher, trying to pull the tentacle away. It seemed to stretch, its hold intensifying.
In the corner, the creature in the pram continued to laugh.
The metal bar in his other hand, Johan whipped it across and struck the tentacle. It unwound from his leg, grabbed the bar and hurled it across the chamber. The metal struck the wall with a clang and fell, disappearing beneath the water.
The baby giggled.
“Richie!” Johan said. His friend had flopped back against the wall, eyes transfixed on the bloody vision in the corner. Glancing up showed Spence still had his eyes closed. “Kev?”
The hole once again proved too difficult for Kev’s large frame, and his chubby leg, hindered further in soaking jeans, couldn’t quite get high enough.
The squirming in Johan’s hand writhed with increased frenzy.
“Har, har!” the thing in the corner bellowed. “You didn’t realise, did you? You didn’t realise!”
“What is that thing?” screamed Spence.
“You dare come down here? Down here?” the skinless creature cried.
The baby in Johan’s hand opened its tiny mouth and flashed its razor teeth again. The blue face screwed up and it started to bawl. The tentacles struggled against his hold.
“Here,” he said to Simon and held out the baby. “Take this.”
His old friend appeared appalled at the thought, but obediently took the squirming body, yanking it hard to free the tentacles that curled around Johan’s wrist.
“Now kill it.”
“What?” Simon stared at the tiny figure in his grasp.
“Kill it.”
Simon studied it with disgust.
Johan grinned. His friend was finally starting to emerge. “Do it, Simon. Kill it. It can’t be allowed to live. Look at it! Kill it, Simon!”
“Yeah,” said Richie.
“Kill it,” said Spencer.
Simon swallowed, leaned back and thrust the baby against the wall. The thud of impact echoed in the chamber.
The laughter stopped. The slimy creature gripped onto the edge of its pram, the toothless pit of a mouth hanging down. Its beady eyes seemed to widen.
“No,” it croaked. “No! What are you doing?”
The baby’s shrieks climbed higher and stabbed in Johan’s ears.
Simon smashed the baby at the wall a second time.
Its skull, the size of a small apple, cracked between his fingers. Creamy blood seeped through. Thrashing and jerking tentacles suddenly hid the sight.
“Leave him alone! He’s only a baby!”
Richie and Kev stood motionless.
The baby’s cries had dissolved into wet gurgles and chokes.
Simon drove it against the wall a final time. The tentacles hung loose and dipped into the water. The body fell limp and silent.
“No!” the thing in the corner shouted. “Edgar! No!”
Simon flung the body across the room. It looked like a large, slimy pompom and struck the wall with a splat. The baby bounced off and splashed into the water. A few of the tentacles floated on the surface.
“You bastards!” wailed the creature, its words distorted by sobbing. “Murderers!”
Simon wiped the blood from his fingers on the seat of his jeans.
The tentacles drifted on the surface of the water for a few more moments before they slowly sank under.
“Nooo!”
Johan leaned against the wall, swallowing the rotten air deeply. He inhaled, retched and spat out a glob of phlegm. An inspection of his hand showed dark brown stains. Rather than keep the creature’s diseased touch on his skin, Johan dipped his hand into the rank water, choosing its natural germs instead.
“J-Johan?” asked a tentative Richie. “What the hell do we do? What the hell?”
Another glob of sputum flew from Johan’s mouth, and he closed his eyes to steady his head. Richie’s voice had grown distant, echoing down a tunnel. Rough hands grabbed Johan’s shoulders and shook him.
“Don’t lose it,” said Simon, his hands dripping with blood. “We aren’t finished.”
Swallowing, Johan nodded and looked back at the thing in the corner. It quivered within the pram, its hands, still holding the edge, trembled, and strings of yellowed gloop hung from its fingers. The curses had stopped and it peered around in fearful silence.
It knows, thought Johan. It knows it’s all alone now. It can’t hurt us.
The realisation sobered him a little and the chamber came into focus.
“I’m… fine,” he said quietly. Simon squeezed his shoulder. Johan nodded, and his friend relinquished the grip. “Good work, Simon. Nice to have you back.” He took another steadying breath. “Spence, you get down here you weak piece of shit.”
From behind the spectacles, which had somehow managed to stay on his face throughout the whole encounter, Spence’s eyes darted around in his wide sockets. He moved his head back and forth, scanning the water. He lingered for seconds to stare at the pram bound monster.
“Spence, get down. I won’t ask you again. The baby’s dead.”
“But…”
“I said it’s dead.”
The boy began his descent.
Using his foot to sift through the contents strewn around the concealed floor, Johan searched for the metal bar. His heart soared at the sudden hard contact, and he bent over to retrieve it. With his face inches above the water, and his hand outstretched in the dark pool, he imagined more tentacles about to drag him under. He forced the images away as his fingers brushed cold metal. Fishing the bar out, he flinched at the sight of a limp coil of tentacle dangling from the end. Johan flicked off the detached appendage and swung the bar in a wide arc through the air. Water flicked off its shiny surface.
“Simon’s right,” he said, staring at the bar. “We aren’t finished yet.”
He pointed the tip of the bar at the creature, which brought on fresh tremors through its exposed hide. Johan felt no sympathy. “Boys?”
Following his lead, the rest of the group immediately sought out new weapons. Kev managed to retrieve the plank of wood he’d carried into the chamber and held it out like a shield. Richie and Spence resorted to a couple of wooden chairs, both ridden with green mould. Johan expected they’d fall apart after one good hit but better than nothing.
This should suffice, he thought, hefting the bar upwards. He ventured towards the creature.
“No!” the thing wailed again.
The word stopped Johan’s advance for a second. He closed his eyes, refusing to look at it, wishing it to be quiet. The creature, like its fucking baby, was a travesty.
To live down here in such… such squalor…
Even if they escaped the maze of tunnels, Johan knew this couldn’t rest. The thought of this thing alive would consume his thoughts until it drove him crazy.
The last few years of his life had
been a mission—a crusade—to eradicate the living filth he saw every day. The women, the corrupting, disease spreading women, were just a warm up to this, he realised. We’ve had our fun, but now the time has come for more serious matters.
Wiping his cleaned hand on his jeans again, he shot Simon a side-glance.
And it’s all due to you, my friend. Look what your bitch led us to.
He swallowed.
“This is for you, Simon,” he whispered.
His friend stayed quiet, his attention fixed on the creature, which glanced back and forth between the approaching faces.
“No,” it whined. “You can’t. Please. You can’t!”
Johan coughed down his rising bile.
“Th-This is our home. Outsiders!” it screamed.
“I think it’s calling for help!” said Spence. “What if others come?”
Johan lifted the bar over his head. “Then we have to silence it, don’t we?”
He hammered it down and struck a glancing blow on the creature’s head. It cried out and clamped its hands on the wound.
Johan closed his eyes again, the shrill noise from the thing pulsing through his head.
“Hit it again,” said Richie. “Please. Make it stop!”
Opening his eyes, Johan noticed Spence had turned away, watching the entrance. Simon hung away a little, hands still on his hips.
“Please,” Richie said again. He held his bleeding arm and seemed close to throwing up.
Johan lifted the bar again and pointed it at the creature’s face like a sword. Its ebony eyes swelled with tears. It lowered its hands, producing strings of slime that dangled from its head.
“You can’t be allowed to live,” said Johan. Saliva slipped from the corner of his mouth and he absently wiped it away with the back of his hand.
The creature rested its hands in its lap and stared at him. “You’ll… be… sorry.”
The words stepped Johan’s heart up a notch. “Not as sorry as you.”
He thrust forwards, his arms straining to force the bar hard. The creature lifted its head at the last moment, and the sharp point effortlessly slid into the boneless flesh of its throat.
The boys cried out. One of them retched.
Johan remained staring at his victim, enjoying the sight of the dark, viscous fluids jetting from around the dull metal before slowing to a heavy trickle. The creature kept its eyes on him, arms by its side.
Mother's Boys Page 16