by Brett Savory
Milo looked at Faye, who shrugged, said, “Guess that answers your question.”
They moved ahead of Henry, Milo leading the way through the pitch dark with their newfound flashlight.
They walked along in silence for a few hundred feet, then Henry suddenly stopped, turned himself around more quickly than Milo or Faye would have expected, given his size and downturned mood.
“Whoa, whoa, Henry, what…” Milo began.
And then Henry was running.
The ground shook. Henry’s head scraped the tunnel ceiling with each step. Nearing twenty feet tall now, if he was an inch. Bits of tile and concrete crumbled off the walls. Milo and Faye ran after him, the flashlight a feeble cone of useless light in the darkness as Henry faded from view.
“Henry! Christ! What are you doing!? Where are you going!?” Milo yelled after him.
Henry reached the entrance to the working subway line, ducked down, and thundered through.
Moments later, he emerged into a different tunnel, this one strung with occasional lights, and the sound of a subway train somewhere in the distance.
Henry ran toward it.
* * *
When Adelina stood to her full height – Kendul, Marcton, Bill, and Cleve helping her get her footing, then assisting her outside the crumbling walls of the house – she was nearly as tall as Henry, but nowhere near as bulky. Something about her, though, inspired more terror in the men’s hearts than Henry had when they’d seen him entering the old subway tunnels. Some indefinable dread that latched onto their minds.
The snow was two feet thick in some places – snow drifts more than double that height. And it was still coming. Now faster and harder than any of them had ever seen snow fall in their lives.
Marcton glanced up into the slate-colored sky, said, “Chopper.”
A few seconds later everyone else heard it, then they all saw it. It dipped down, then a searchlight scoured the houses several blocks over. Another chopper appeared a bit farther away. The sound of sirens.
The veil has definitely been pulled back now, Kendul thought, the ideas bubbling up from his guts, his intuition, his very evolution. We will be hunted, exterminated, wiped from the face of the earth. Not only have we been exposed, but whatever used to protect us seems to now be actively looking to destroy us.
“We should get moving,” Kendul said. The others nodded slowly. They felt it, too. There was a wave coming. First the snow, then the people.
Seeking to bury them completely.
“The old subway tunnels is where we last saw Henry, Adelina,” Marcton said. “The abandoned entrance.”
Adelina gave no indication she heard him. But then she looked side to side, up and down the street. She still said nothing, but began walking in the direction of the subway tunnels.
“Uh, should we…” Cleve began.
“Follow? Yeah,” Marcton said. “But in the Hummer. She’s focused, alright. Now we just have to keep up. I’ll bring it over. You guys keep an eye on her.”
Marcton hustled to the vehicle, jumped in, started it, pulled it around. It nearly got stuck in snow twice, but he was able to wrench it out before the tires dug in.
Kendul took the passenger seat; Cleve and Bill hopped in the back. They pulled away from the house, found Adelina in the headlights. She stuck to the roads, walking right down the middle – the occasional pedestrian fleeing in terror, or just edging away slowly, unsure what they were seeing, finding it difficult to believe, and then running away. There was no toss-up between fight or flight – everyone turned tail and ran like hell.
The sirens sounded like they were getting closer; the helicopter searchlights would be zeroing in soon – only a matter of time till they saw, or got word of, the giant steel behemoth walking around the city.
The second one.
The men in the Hummer understood that this would be an all-out attack. The city would come to bear with full force. They silently pulled out whatever weapons they carried, loaded them, sat grimly and waited for it to begin.
A cop car streaked by a couple of blocks ahead, lost control in the snow, vanished from sight. They heard a crash moments later.
They’re insane, Kendul thought. They’re being driven to the point where safety on any level is not a concern.
Three blocks away from the entrance to the old subway line, two more cop cars emerged into view – these ones going slightly slower. Their searchlights swiveled, found Adelina. Both cars slammed on their brakes, slid about thirty feet in the ice and snow, stopped.
Adelina just kept stomping toward the cop cars, unfazed.
The cops spun their wheels, found purchase after fishtailing, headed straight toward Adelina. The cops riding shotgun leaned out their windows, began firing their guns at her. The bullets pinged off. Zero effect. The first car rammed into Adelina’s left leg just after she brought it down to street level. The hood crumpled. The driver’s head drove into the windshield, cracked it, creating a star-shaped burst of blood and glass. The passenger was thrown free, but was already dead as he flew through the air. He landed in a nearby snowbank, a discarded rag doll. His face a mask of blood. Eyes glazed over, seeing nothing.
The second car came in just under Adelina’s right foot. She stomped its engine block into the ground. She fell forward on her right knee, off balance, crushed the driver to a pulp in an instant. The passenger fired his revolver at her until she moved her enormous left hand down and pushed hard toward the ground on that side of the car. Everything beneath her hand crumpled in on itself. Her hand came away streaked with blood.
Fucking kamikaze, Bill thought, true fear threading its way through his guts for the first time in as long as he could remember. How do you fight this?
Adelina regained her balance, looked down at herself, then up at the choppers moving in. She raised both arms, then, as if to say, Come on. Here I am. What are you waiting for?
She lowered her arms, kept walking toward the subway entrance.
Two blocks. One block. More sirens all around them, and the choppers closing in.
Marcton pulled the Hummer over to the side of the road, hopped out, motioned for the others to follow, yelled, “Let’s go! Move!”
The four men ran single file through the snow, nearly on Adelina’s heels now.
That’s when one of the choppers’ searchlights found Adelina and opened fire. The bullets just ricocheted off her, but the double-line of heavy bullets caught Cleve and Bill in mid-stride, sent them both sprawling.
They sat up in the snow as the helicopter came around for another run.
Marcton ran back, grabbed them each by one arm, hoisted them back onto their feet, barked, “Go! Get underground now!”
Kendul had already gone under, and Adelina was squeezing herself into the entrance now, too. She hacked at the edges to make it wider, concrete falling away to either side – she was a bit smaller than Henry, but also in one hell of a rush.
She crawled in, moved deeper inside until she was able to stand somewhat comfortably.
Marcton, Bill, and Cleve scrambled down the destroyed entrance, picking their way over the rubble as they went in. Bill had the most trouble negotiating the loose chunks of concrete, his foot twice getting stuck under it.
One of the helicopters opened fire, just as a cop car came careening into view. The bullets riddled the car, killing both occupants. The cop car hopped the curb, slammed into Bill where he clambered over a small hill of rubble.
Crushed him against a wall to the left of the entrance.
He was pinned between the car and wall, the hood of the vehicle mashing his waist and part of his chest, his legs twisted and caught under the engine.
He screamed. Cleve moved toward him from the subway entrance, but Marcton pulled him back, said, “He’s done, Cleve. We have to go. Come on.” Pulled on Cleve’s collar, spun him around roughly, pushed his back.
They ran deeper into the tunnel, caught up to Kendul and Adelina, turned back to look as the whi
ne of a descending chopper got closer and closer. Bill screamed again, then the chopper slammed full force into the cop car, obliterating Bill in a ball of fire that rose up into the night, belching black smoke.
If everyone didn’t know where all the action was before, they do now, Kendul thought.
Tears glistened on Cleve’s eyelids – from smoke or grief or both, Marcton didn’t know. “What the fuck, Marcton!? What the fuck was that? What’s wrong with them? They’re just fucking divebombing us!”
Marcton didn’t respond.
“Just keep running, Cleve. Keep running,” Kendul said. He turned and headed into the blackness of the tunnel, Adelina leading the way like she was a bloodhound, like she knew which way and how far Henry and the others had gone – which she did. Henry’s location was like a bright red dot in the black of her mind’s eye. She instinctively knew him like twins know each other, like a mother knows her own child.
Aboveground, they heard more choppers, more sirens.
Marcton clapped Cleve on the back, gently nudged him forward. Cleve took one last look at the mouth of the tunnel entrance – entirely engulfed now in fire, rubble, and black smoke.
Marcton wondered what was next. Drones? Full missile airstrikes? Christ.
They ran hard beneath the skin of the city then, no longer looking back for anything.
T W E N T Y - O N E
Moments before the subway train slammed into Henry Kyllo, these were his thoughts:
I have killed, and I will kill again.
I do not want this. I do not deserve this.
More death as a result, but at least it will be over. I will be stopped. Whatever’s inside me is eating its way out. Devouring me as it goes. Who I am. Who I was. Only a hint of a shadow of me remains.
This will end it. For me, for Faye, Milo, everyone.
I need to die. I need to die.
When the train hit Henry, it drove him back a hundred yards, brakes screeching the entire way. It caved in his chest, crumpled parts of his face, severed one finger from his right hand, two from his left.
Inside the train, dozens were killed instantly, thrown around, batted from side to side as most of the cars of the train derailed, slammed into the sides of the tunnel. Glass and steel punctured lungs, ripped off limbs, crushed torsos, flattened heads, shattered spines. Many more were severely injured, and bled to death not long after the train finally came to a stop. Those who somehow made it through somewhat unscathed – mostly those at the back of the train – wandered around the wreckage crying, dazed.
When Milo and Faye heard the deafening crash, they ran toward it through the service tunnel that joined the old and new lines. Panic rose in Milo’s chest. Disbelief and horror quickly replaced that feeling once they saw the devastation.
Milo shone his flashlight toward the wreckage. Henry was lying on his back several hundred feet from where Milo and Faye stood. The car at the front of the train was mostly crumpled inward, had settled across one of Henry’s legs. Four or five cars beyond it were visible before there was a turn in the tunnel, and these cars were all tilted at crazy angles – one of them nearly vertical. A small pile of dead bodies had accumulated at the bottom of the closest car where it had been wrenched open by the force of the impact, spilling its contents onto the track.
Faye and Milo ran toward Henry, stopped short. Tried to block out the cries for help, screams of agony coming from seemingly every direction.
“Henry!” Milo shouted above the din. Milo put a hand on the leg that was trapped under the train car. He wanted to ask why, but he thought he knew why. So did Faye.
This was his only way out. Not escaping the city. Running forever. Out of control.
But it hadn’t worked.
Milo saw Henry’s shattered chest rise, pull in breath. One eye opened slowly. A nearby sparking wire caught the shiny part of that eye, and Milo had a horrible feeling that something beyond any of their comprehension was at work here. This wasn’t just ascension that had gotten out of hand. This had been calculated. By who or what, Milo had no idea. But there was something ageless in the spark of that eye. Something malignant. Persistent.
Less and less remained of Henry with every passing second, but Milo would stay by his side for however long he lasted. For however long he needed his friend.
* * *
Inside Henry, the blackness he’d hoped would be his world forever stirred. It churned into recognizable shape. A recognizable feeling.
He was alive. He cracked an eye. The first thing he saw was Milo. Then Faye. His other eye opened, and his head turned. He saw destruction. Death.
Pain everywhere, and all his doing.
He didn’t know it then, but the last words he would speak came out of his misshapen mouth. He looked at Milo, concentrated, and said, “Why can’t I die? I just want to die. I can’t feel myself anymore, Milo. There’s something awful happening… inside.”
And then Henry Kyllo grew again.
* * *
This time, he didn’t feel it at all. The tiny portion of his personality, his consciousness – whatever made him who he was – was thrown so far back from the experience that it could have been happening to someone else.
His legs and arms grew longer, his torso stronger, wider, his head bigger, sharper – and all of him a darker metal, a coarser rock, bordering on black.
Milo dragged Faye back, as far away from Henry as he could. Henry gained his feet, any damage from the train now fully healed, covered over. His head and shoulders burst through the tunnel ceiling, crashed through into the city street above. A few cars swerved around him, but most just shot straight into him, looks of rage and hatred on people’s faces before they hit.
Henry looked up, saw the choppers in the sky, saw police cars, fire engines, ambulances everywhere – and regular people on the street charging at him, throwing themselves into their attacks, heedless of any injury they might sustain themselves.
This is humanity’s last ditch effort to save itself, Henry thought, unaware where the thought had come from, but knowing its truth. We are the Other, and we cannot be understood.
Henry grew more, his gleaming black torso now rocketing up through the pavement, chunks cracking to either side of him.
He turned his massive head, saw a tank rolling down the street toward him. The tank fired, the shell catching him high on the cheek. Besides losing his vision momentarily, there were no adverse effects whatsoever.
Ridiculous, he thought. I am a ridiculous cartoon monster, but I will be the end of all these people.
* * *
The fear was contagious. More virulent than any plague in history.
The Other must be eradicated.
Far away in a war room in the country’s capitol, generals seized with this inexplicable, overriding fear gave the order that nuclear missiles – along with dozens of other rockets – were to be launched in Henry Kyllo’s direction. But that order was moot, since the personnel who turned the keys to launch the missiles had already done so.
And it was the same in as many other countries as were in range.
Humanity acted as one organism under threat of extinction, throwing everything it had at the enemy. A colossal worldwide Hail Mary to try to save itself from eradication.
* * *
Adelina Palermo walked through the dark of the old subway tunnel until she heard the crash of the train ploughing into Henry. She found the tunnel joining the old subway line with the new one, and headed down it.
Behind her, with no light source to help them, Marcton, Cleve, and Kendul simply followed Adelina’s footsteps, watched for any shifting movements in the darkness that might reveal her changing direction.
When the sound of the crash reached them, rumbling through the walls, they picked up their pace, hearts in their throats – even though somewhere deep down, they knew they were running toward a lost battle.
The chaos aboveground had, to their minds, dwarfed their petty little revenge drama immeasurably.
It seemed shockingly minor in the face of what was happening. All three men felt that this wasn’t even about the Inferne Cutis any more – perhaps had never really been about them.
But still they plodded on.
Just grist for whatever new mill was starting up aboveground, Kendul thought, and shivered.
Adelina and the men emerged from the side tunnel joining the subway lines, and saw the destruction Henry had caused. By the time they arrived, only Henry’s legs were visible, his upper portion having already burst through to the street above. They heard cars crashing. Sirens. Bombs. People were falling down through the hole Henry had created. Breaking their arms and legs from the fall. Bleeding. Dying.
Though she could not cry outwardly, internally, Adelina wept for her father. She wept for whatever was happening to the world above. She wept because she knew how this would end, had seen it in her mind well before events had progressed to this point, but was powerless to stop it, or even fully believe it could happen.
The possibility that she had, in fact, been one of the catalysts for it was something she consciously blotted out. There was no reserve of calm left in her body. What little of herself remained was focused solely on fighting whatever was taking her over inside. It wanted her to help Henry by leaving him alone. She had done her job, had kept Milo in the picture, which in turn helped keep Henry in the picture, away from prying eyes so that he could mature. Grow into exactly what he’d become.
She fought hard against what was inside her, even though she knew her efforts would amount to absolutely nothing of note. That nothing would change, no matter what she did.
As bombs burst above, tanks rolled down the street, firing on Henry. Helicopters and planes shot at him. People attacked with nothing more than balled-up fists.
Adelina strode toward Henry as quickly as her legs would take her.
Faye and Milo flattened themselves against a nearby wall, tried to hide from her sight as best they could. Adelina stormed right past, reached up, grabbed hold of Henry’s waist and tugged down as hard as she could, eventually securing a strong enough grip to pull him back down. Once his head and arms were mostly underground again, Adelina used all her strength to throw him down the tunnel. He flew headfirst about fifty feet, turned in the air, landed on his back, skidded another twenty feet, then stopped.