by North, Geoff
Cobe made one last desperate pull-push and rolled. The elevator came to a stop. He looked back and saw the slab was a box—a little white room that traveled up and down through Big Hole. It would start its way back up in a few moments. Cobe had to make a fast decision. He couldn’t go after Willem weaponless and with his knee all busted up. He needed one of the lawman’s guns, or better yet, the little gold key he’d been carrying to get at all the other weapons. Cobe twisted around and started to pull himself back in. The doors closed and he felt an unpleasant sensation in his stomach, as if his guts were attempting to push out of his body all on their own.
I’m moving. The elevator is going back up.
His guts lurched again in the other direction and the doors slid back open. The first thing he saw was blood. It was streaked all over the floor in frenzied patterns and spattered against the walls. Cobe pulled himself out quickly onto Level XYZ before the doors could close again. As soon as they shut, he heard the muffled rumble of the elevator as it rattled away.
Cobe looked about. He saw the remains of the howler’s foot and lower leg in a particularly large puddle of red. A couple of the curled gray toenails had snapped off. Too bad the lawman’s only shot hadn’t punched through the thing’s chest or head instead. The three of them would still be together if he’d aimed a little higher. Cobe searched for the big revolver he’d heard drop to the floor. It wasn’t there—nor was Lawson’s body. A wide smear of dried blood trailed off down the hallway.
Cobe dragged his body along the floor. If the howler had taken Lawson’s corpse somewhere else, he’d have to find it—he needed one of those guns, or the gold key. If he came across the creature first, he’d just have to deal with that when it happened.
***
A panel on the elevator wall blinked into life at every level along Willem’s ascent, indicating the floor number he was on. The doors would slide open, revealing endless purple-lit hallways and locked doors, and then they would shut again. Willem didn’t like the uneasy feeling the movement caused in his stomach, but he was too afraid to set off down one of the empty corridors on his own. As uncomfortable as it was, the elevator was at least lifting him out of the ground. Hopefully he would find Cobe waiting for him on the other side of the doors when he reached E Level—the floor that woman’s voice kept going off about—and the two could leave Big Hole beneath and behind them for once and all.
His brother wasn’t there when the doors opened on E. The dull mauve light had been replaced by blackness and brief intervals of flashing green. Willem almost remained where he was, hoping the doors would close quickly. There was something sinister about the way it blinked on and off, as if something was hiding in the shadows, preparing to pounce when the green light swung back seconds later. Willem collected his last bit of courage and stepped out as the doors started to slide shut.
He was about to head left, but as the green light flashed again he saw something small and dark on the floor. He bent over and touched the round spot. It was sticky. He smelled the tip of his finger. Blood. Willem ignored the locked doors lining the hallway and concentrated on the floor. He wandered another thirty feet and found a second drop. The corridor split into another hallway. The way to his right was shorter. The green light flashed again and he saw a door at the end of it. Willem held out his gun and walked slowly forward as the tranquil-sounding voice of the woman warned of unauthorized access once again. His heart started to beat faster when he saw the door was open a crack. This is the room. Cobe has to be in there. The end of his little pistol wagged backed and forth like a dog’s tail. He had to be brave; he had to control his fear.
The door opened wider and someone stepped out into the corridor with him. Willem’s gun started to slip out of his wet fingers. He gripped it harder and pointed it at the naked old man moving towards him. “Don’t move…I’ll shoot.”
Lothair stopped and slowly raised his frail-looking arms into the air.
Willem started to back away. The man looked to be about a hundred years old, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. He needed to put more distance between them in case he decided to jump Willem between the flashes of light. “Why ain’t you wearing any clothes?”
“ABZE doesn’t provide its clients with pajamas when they’re laid to rest.”
The voice scared Willem almost as much as the man’s appearance. The light flashed around again and he saw his eyes for the first time. They were like those of the cat trapped in its little cylinder on Level A—the cat some little girl from a long time ago had named Smudge. Willem couldn’t tell in this light if they were pink, but he knew they sure as hell didn’t belong to anything living. “My brother…I lost my brother. Is he in that room behind you?”
“Trot is your brother?”
Trot’s alive!
“Trot was with me and my brother. We were trying to get out of here when the howler came.”
“What is a howler?” Lothair stepped closer.
Willem pointed the gun at his face. “Stay right there. My ma used to warn me about sick old fuckers that like touching children.”
“I won’t hurt you. I used to work with children when I was a younger man. I enjoyed their company very much. My name is Lothair. What’s your name?”
“I ain’t saying nothing until you put some clothes on and show me where Trot is.”
“Your friend fell and hit his head. He’s resting.”
“Show me.”
Lothair led him back into the room and Willem saw a dark form on the floor. “It’s too dark in here. Make the light come on.”
Lothair looked next to the door and located the panel. He clicked the switch up and the light burned his eyes. He shielded them with hands until the glare became bearable. “It’s as I said…your friend fell and hurt himself. He’s still alive.” Willem watched as Trot’s chest rose and fell steadily. There was only a tiny spot of blood on the floor under his head. He would be alright, Willem thought, without noticing the larger, pink patch a few feet away that Lothair had cleaned up with his tongue.
Lothair found another panel near a bare section of wall across from the cylinder and pressed one of the two buttons. A hidden door slid open before him, revealing a compact space housing a shower stall and toilet. It had been a thousand years since he’d taken a piss and the urge to go after all that time still wasn’t there. He didn’t find the thought amusing. He pressed the other button and a second door slid open next to the washroom. It was a small closet with a few sets of clothes hanging neatly on a single rod. Lothair didn’t care what he wore. It didn’t matter to him if he spent the next millennium wearing nothing at all; any sense of humility he may once have felt was as dead inside him as was a sense of humor. He grabbed a white undershirt and black pants.
When he had finished dressing Lothair saw the boy still had his weapon trained on him. “Either shoot me or come and help me wake up the rest of my family. Your friend will be fine until we return.”
“I ain’t going nowhere with you. I’m gonna wait for Trot to wake up, then I’m going to find Cobe.”
“Cobe… Your brother.”
Willem nodded.
Lothair found a belt and fastened it through the pants. He didn’t bother with any of the socks or shoes arranged neatly at the bottom of the closet. “There, I’m all dressed and I’ve shown you where Trot is. Will you at least tell me your name now?”
“Willem.”
“Was it just the three of you down here?” Willem nodded again. “Two boys and a slow-thinking adult. The three of you found your way into a maximum-security installation three kilometers underground without any help at all. I find that hard to believe.”
“Just me, my brother, and Trot.”
Lothair knew the boy was lying. There were more of them. “What is it like out there? Are there cities? Are there survivors?” The gun dropped slightly, but Willem remained stubbornly silent. “Look at me, Willem. I’m an old man…no threat to you at all. Can’t you at least answer a few
of my questions before you leave?”
“Me and my brother was headed west, to a place called Victory Island. Trot caught up to us. We lived in a village called Burn. There’s another town to the north called Rudd. That’s where our ma was born.” His bottom lip quivered as he spoke. “Lode killed her and our pa. Cobe and me escaped…left that gawdamn town before he could hurt us, too.”
“All on your own?”
“Yeah... All on our own.”
“Tell me about the lawman.”
Willem’s eyes opened wide. He raised the gun back up. “How you know about him?”
Lothair’s raspy voice explained it to him. “Trot mentioned his name as I was about to break his back over my knee and feed on his insides.” He squatted down until he was face to face with the boy. Trot’s unconscious body was the only thing separating the two. Willem could smell something ancient and foul on Lothair’s breath. “I’m going to eat your friend anyway. Tell me what I want to know and I won’t force you to watch.”
Lothair lifted one of Trot’s limp arms towards his lips, and Willem pulled the trigger. It made a clicking noise.
“That is a nice weapon,” Lothair said. “I imagine it would be exceptionally lethal in the right hands…especially if it was loaded. I noticed the clip was missing in the hallway.”
Willem didn’t know what any of that meant. He lunged forward and drove the useless pistol’s end into one of Lothair’s pink eyes. Lothair made a grunting noise and rolled away. Willem rolled in the opposite direction, towards the open door. He rushed through and fled down the hallway. The green light was still flashing intermittently but Willem no longer cared what might be waiting in the shadows when it turned black. Nothing could be worse than what he’d left behind. Poor Trot. There was nothing Willem could do to help him. He had to find his brother. They had to get out before more dead people from Big Hole started to wake up.
He turned left where the corridor split and came to a sudden stop.
The howler was facing him, less than ten feet away. Its long gray fingernails scraped along the floor as it crawled forward, dragging the bloody stump where Lawson had shot its lower leg clear off.
It was a one-legged monster facing off against a one-armed boy.
Willem didn’t care much for his odds.
Chapter 20
Cobe hoped it would be over fast. He dragged himself around a corner, his chest rubbing off more of the blood trail he was following. When the howler came to get him, he prayed it would finish him off quickly. Cobe had never put much faith in the gods. A lot of folks back in Burn worshipped all sorts of them; they prayed to pigs born with two tails, and mangy dogs with different-colored eyes. They praised and wailed about old relatives for saying wise things about stupid shit that had happened ages ago. Some believed there was only one God. Cobe didn’t believe in any of them. At least not since his parents had swung from the tree. There weren’t any gods. There wasn’t a single all-knowing entity watching over everything. And if there was—he sure as hell wasn’t listening to Cobe. He kept on praying anyway.
There was nowhere else to go, and nothing else to try. His only hope was to find the lawman’s remains. If by some chance he could get a hold of one of those guns before the howler got to him, he would at least have the opportunity to take the ugly bastard out with him.
The trail of blood came to a stop—or at least ended at the bottom of a door. Cobe craned his head up to see where he was. A sign read WASHROOM/MED STATION. There was a simplified image of a man and woman above the words. Cobe couldn’t see any keypad. He pushed near the bottom and the door opened inward with a squeal. He heard something dripping. Cobe clutched at the doorframe and pulled himself up. He bit down on his lip, hoping it would distribute some of the pain from his knee. It didn’t help. He stagger-hopped in and the door swung shut behind him.
It’s in here. There’s no other place it could’ve gone.
There was a series of smaller doors inside. Cobe saw a puddle of pink spreading out from under the one furthest away. Blood and water.
He hobbled to the front of the stall, dragging his bad leg after him, and no longer caring how much noise he made. Howlers had no eyes; their sense of hearing and smell was unquestioningly superior to his. This one knew he was here. Why bother trying to hide it?
There was a foot of open space between the floor and the bottom edge of the door. Cobe bent down to see what he could see. A brown boot jerked and slipped through the muck on the floor. It’s eating him.
A weak but gruff voice spoke from the other side. “Come on in…door ain’t locked.”
Cobe pushed and found the lawman sitting on a smooth white pedestal made of stone. The big gun Cobe had been searching for was pointed at his face. “Hell, I don’t even know if I have the strength to pull the trigger.” Lawson made a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough. The gun dropped slowly to his lap.
“All that blood… How can you be alive?” Cobe asked.
“Too stubborn to die. Besides, it ain’t all my blood…most of it come from the howler when I blew its leg off.” The lawman looked terrible; his skin was clammy gray, and there were purple rings under his eyes. He took a few ragged breaths before speaking again. “Yer leg…what happened?”
“Fell down the elevator shaft. Think I might’ve bust my knee trying not to land on Willem.”
“Where is he?”
Cobe shrugged guiltily. “Not sure. He left me there and went to find us some weapons from the armory. Got worried waiting for him so I set out after you.” Cobe didn’t mention he’d set out to scavenge off the lawman’s dead body. He didn’t much see the point in that.
“Stupid kid. He can’t get anything out of there without the key.” He patted one of the pockets on his shirt without taking it out. “That knee…how bad is it?”
“Pretty bad.”
Lawson could see how swollen it was under the fabric of Cobe’s dirty pants. “There’s a medical station behind you, on the wall.” Cobe turned and saw it. “Inside are all sorts of cures for all kinds of injuries. Go to it.”
Cobe shuffled over to the white cabinet set in the wall and swung the metal door open. It was smeared with Lawson’s bloody fingerprints inside and out. It appeared as though he’d already made use of some of the contents. There were multiple shelves inside, half-filled with packages containing bandages and rolled strips of gauze. Individual pills vacuum sealed into foil pouches lined the middle shelves, and on the bottom were tiny bottles of antiseptic, decongestants, and half a dozen other ancient medicines. Cobe didn’t know what most of the stuff was, and he couldn’t see how any of it would lessen the pain in his knee.
Lawson grumbled from his toilet perch. “Top shelf, over to the right. Take out one of the packages that reads Ambrufel.” The flat pouches were about the size of Cobe’s open hand. He took one and started to read the tiny printing on front. He thought his reading skills were fairly decent, but most of the words made no sense to Cobe at all.
“Don’t worry about what the gawdamn thing is, just use it,” Lawson said. “Pull it open at the corner, and take off the clear backing until you get to the sticky part.”
Cobe followed the lawman’s instructions. When he’d removed the plastic off the back he smelled something that made his nose burn and eyes water. There was a small needle pointing a quarter of an inch out from the middle of the adhesive patch. “What…What am I supposed to do, lick it?”
“Is yer tongue broken?”
Cobe shook his head.
“Then pull yer pant leg up and stick that thing onto yer knee. Make sure the pointy part goes into where it hurts most.”
Cobe did as he was told. He applied the sticky area gently to the majority of his knee. He felt a cooling sensation spread through his leg almost immediately.
“Did you poke the needle into yer skin?”
“Do I have to?”
“If you want to walk again, you do. Go ahead, just smack down on it.”
Cobe exp
ected it would hurt like hell, but when he slapped down he felt nothing at all. “I don’t think it worked. Maybe the pointy part broke off.”
“If you can’t feel nothin’, then it’s working just fine. The smelly stuffs numbs yer skin so you don’t feel the jab.”
Cobe limped back to Lawson. His clothes were shredded and soaked in blood. Cobe knew the lawman was old, but he had never seen him this rough-looking. There were dark hollows under his cheekbones that puffed out rapidly as he struggled for air.
“You gonna die?”
“Hell, no… Just catching my breath.” To prove his point, Lawson grabbed hold of a bar secured to the wall and pulled himself up. He pointed down at the open toilet. “Don’t know how, but the water’s still fairly fresh down here. Cleans out the cuts and fights off infection.”
“I don’t think you’re ready to go facing that howler again.”
“You want yer brother to take it on alone?”
Cobe followed the lawman back out into the hallway. “It doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”
Lawson was looking down the corridor both ways. The big gun seemed steadier in his hand, the color was returning to his face. “What?”
“My knee. I can almost put all my weight back on it.”
“Ambrufel’s an amazing thing,” he whispered back. “The little bit of medicine stored in that needle is powerful enough to mend small fractures. You won’t even know you hurt yerself in another minute or two.”
Cobe wondered why such powerful and advanced people had chosen to hide deep in the ground and put themselves to sleep. The world above was a hostile place, but these people could have tamed it easily enough with their advanced weaponry. Sickness and disease could be wiped out with their wondrous medicines. How bad could things have been above to drive them far below?