by Stuart Keane
I need to get down there.
I need to do something…
Hannah scanned the heaving crowd and the pools for any sign of her children. Aria, Cayden, Hayley – they were still out there. The woman flicked a glance at Mia, who was still engrossed in her menu, and returned her gaze to the massacre below.
A shriek caught in her parched throat as she lengthened her gaze and studied the opposite side of the pool. Two young boys – brothers, she assumed, since they shared the same twinkling blue eyes and scraggly blond hair – were huddled on a small island, watching the horror from afar. The older of the two hugged his upset brother from behind, and the youngest boy returned the gesture by placing his hands on his brother's forearms, a show of solidarity as the boy tried to protect his brethren from the unspeakable terror. Their skin was still slick and glistening from the pool. Both were crying, their soaked faces red with terrified exertion and puffy from numerous tears, as they surveyed the water before them, probably looking for their missing parents.
The grief on their young faces was obvious, even from her heightened position, and Hannah felt a lump catch in her throat when their flawless flesh began to dribble away in pink rivulets. The oldest boy went first. His eyes caved in and spilled from their sockets, dribbling down his face. The yellow streams of orbital fluid caused a sickening chain reaction, taking first his cheeks, and then his entire face with them. Both were washed away in a glimmering pink waterfall that splattered his thin chest and his brother's shoulders. His hair slid sideways and tumbled into the grass, which was quickly followed by his small muscles and finally his bones. His entire figure seemed to slowly melt away before her very eyes, disappearing like an iceberg beneath the desert sun.
His arms jellified and turned into transparent pink matter, which began to cascade down his younger brother's chest. The child was oblivious to the fact his brother was no longer with him, until his trembling hands flopped into his lap, no longer supported by the comforting arms around his chest. He soon followed suit though; the boy lifted his hands and looked on in unquestionable horror as his frail fingers began to trickle away. He howled again, in the way only a petrified child can, as his hands slathered away to the stumps. His eyes closed to nothing but slits, his reddened face contorted in adolescent pain and brutal confusion as the skin smelted, erasing the pain and crinkled skin and leaving a small rubbery skeleton in its place. Then, it was gone, as the bones bowed and disappeared into the grass below.
This can't be happening.
What is causing this?
Hannah felt her wet eyes flickering in her skull, and stared at the water. Remembered Distin, remembered the overweight man, the mother and her baby. The tragedy of the two boys, the memory still fresh in her mind. All the victims, all of them. They had one thing in common. She flicked a glance at Mia, at herself. They were fine, but everyone else was…
In the water.
It's the fucking water…
Or is it…
Hannah needed to confirm her suspicions, a notion that suddenly gained prominence as it developed in her mind. She surveyed the carnage below with a meticulous eye, looking for clues. She searched the poolside, looking for more evidence, for more people
And noticed Hayley.
The drenched young girl was circling the spot where Hannah had been bathing moments earlier, moments before the carnage had begun. She was searching for her babysitter in the melee, or her fellow children, oblivious to the unexplainable violence that currently surrounded her. She stepped in the pooling blood and water, turned, noticed the crowd of people by the exit, and sloshed her way towards them.
Oh no…
Hannah vehemently slammed her fist on the window, which filled the cafeteria with cacophonous echoing booms, startling both Mia and herself in the process. Mia broke her concentration at the commotion. The young girl slid her legs around, in an attempt to climb down from her seat, but Hannah noticed, and held out a hand. "Stay there, Mia."
Hayley didn't notice, and continued her walk to the masses.
Hannah repeated the act, harder this time. She shook her fist, howling in pain.
Outside, Hayley stopped, spun a one-eighty, and sought the source of the sudden noise. Her innocent eyes searched the cafeteria window and found Hannah's. The woman waved. A relieved smile broke out on the girl's face. Hannah nodded, and pointed to the left, to the ramp, motioning for her to follow them to safety.
Hayley nodded, spurred on by the aforementioned promise of chocolate. In her world, a bubble of joyous life that existed for new adventure, and only existed in the exciting arena of the swimming pool during that exact moment, all was normal. The unseen bloodshed and violence, and the questionable horror that teetered on the fringe of her peripheral vision, strange elements that her young brain couldn’t comprehend thus protecting her in the process, hadn't even registered in her mind.
Hannah felt a sigh of relief, but that relief was scuppered when she observed the crowd behind the girl. The outer members of the hoard separated from the pack and noticed Hannah, too, high above in her lonely sanctuary. Bloodshot eyes, frantic glances, and desperate adult gazes all landed on her position. People walked towards her, their intentions firm, their skin and bathing suits flecked with sizzling burns and smeared blood. One person broke from the mass, realising his opportunity, and then another. Within seconds, several people were headed in her direction, their hectic footing unbalanced from unbridled terror and the drenched tiles that loosely moored them.
Hannah slammed her fist again. "Hayley, run! Run!"
This time, Mia jumped from her seat and sprinted over at the sound of her friend's name, but Hannah no longer cared as she struggled to maintain contact with the child outside. Mia arrived beside her babysitter, and glanced down on the swimming bath with innocent eyes, eyes that could only just peer over the bottom lip of the window.
Hayley obeyed and ran for the ramp, her feet sliding on the tiles, her progress hindered by childish logic and basic perception of the ramp's unseen location, and she began to make the ground, but her tiny legs were no match for the stampede bringing up her rear. Still, Hannah thought she had a slim chance.
Keep going, little girl. Go!
Hayley found the ramp, ran towards it.
That's it…
The girl stepped onto the wooden walkway.
C'mon…
Then, Hayley lost a flip flop, and stopped to retrieve it.
The sprinting adults closed the gap in mere seconds.
Hannah slammed an open palm against the window. "No, no… No!"
Hannah watched as Hayley raised her head, saw the sprinting crowd, and was savagely trampled underfoot. Her small frame disappeared beneath the sprinting feet of the oncoming adults, those whose sole survival was paramount. Her flip flop spiralled into the air and smacked the wall. One second, she was there, and the next, she disappeared. The thunder of footsteps filled the air. Hannah turned away and retched, diverting her gaze away from the brutality of the murder.
Mia, however, saw everything.
Hannah staggered into the centre of the room, and leaned on a table. Mia remained at the window, her eyes scanning the massacre below. Her silence spoke volumes.
"Come away from there, Mia," Hannah offered.
"What … what is all of this?"
"I … come here and I'll tell…"
The thunderous footsteps on the cafeteria ramp, a jarring motion that now rocked the cafeteria to its very foundations, spurred Hannah into action. The woman broke from her sentence, ran across the eatery and slammed herself into the door. She double checked the safety locks as a muscular man in pink swimming trunks appeared and slammed into the other side, cracking the double-paned glass with his shoulder. He slammed against it again, smearing the glass with slippery blood, and stared at Hannah, a furious look on his dripping face.
Hannah backed away, putting distance between herself and the oncoming crowd. More people joined the man and surged up behind him,
forcing him flat against the door, in a writhing mass of crinkled bathing costumes, and glistening skin slathered in chlorinated water and excess blood. Hannah narrowed her eyes as she realised that the people were all dripping wet, despite having been out of the pool and seeking escape for some considerable time.
The man thumped the window with a closed fist. "Let us in."
Hannah pulled Mia away from the window, moved the girl to the booths on the other side, and ushered the girl behind her, to protect the child. "No."
"Bitch, let us in. People are dying out there. We need help."
"No, there's no help for you in here. Go away."
"There's a phone, a back exit. A service entrance, freedom."
"You’re wrong," Hannah uttered, with no conviction in her weakened voice. Escape and a call for help had not occurred to her during her desperate attempt to save Mia. She stored the potential knowledge for future use, and flicked a look at the double doors behind the counter, realising that the man might be correct. Despite this, she stood firm in her decision, and in doing so, Hannah knew she was condemning the people to a certain demise.
Mia is my priority.
You saw what happened to Distin.
What happened to Hayley.
And Cayden, Aria?
She swallowed, accepting the difficult decision.
It won't happen again, I won't allow it.
He tried again. "Let us in."
From beyond the door, a woman screamed, "We're going to die out here!"
Hannah breathed out, and stepped forward. Mia retreated to the comfort of her booth once again, slipped into her seat, and awaited further instruction. She covered her ears with outstretched palms and placed her elbows on the table top, averting her eyes. Hannah shot her a glance, and nodded. Good girl, she thought.
She took one more step and faced the door. "Die? How?"
The man placed a hand on the glass. "What are you on about, you crazy bitch?"
"How are you going to die? We've been in here the whole time," she lied. "Why are you so scared? What's going on out there?"
The man turned and snorted, anger in his voice, and addressed the remaining survivors. "This bitch wants the fucking cliff notes. We're out here dying, bleeding to death, and she wants a fucking explanation." He turned and slammed an irate fist against the door, smearing it with a sticky transparent liquid. "Let us the fuck in, now!"
"No. I'm not … I'm not letting you in here, not with that attitude and … and whatever is killing people out there. I have a small child to protect, to think of. She's my priority."
"Fuck the child. We're dying out here."
"Yeah!" shouted an unseen survivor.
"Open the bloody door!" from another.
The man's face squashed against the glass for a second as they surged forward. Again, it smeared the glass with the transparent liquid, fluid that seemed to be emanating from his skin, like rich oily sweat.
The desperation in their voices was reaching fever pitch, pushing her buttons, and Hannah ascertained that her short patience, and her emotional stability, were gradually floundering. Hannah quickly shook her head, still defiant. "No."
"What?"
"You're not coming in," Hannah concluded, drawing the line in the sand. "Go away."
"If you don't let us in, we'll break this door down."
"Good luck with that," Hannah uttered, again with no conviction in her voice. Could the metal frame of the door, or the glass for that matter, hold against a group of maniacal … whatever they were. She hoped so.
"If we break this door down, we'll fucking kill you. And that little brat behind you."
Hannah said nothing, and fought the stinging tears in her eyes, stunned by the unneeded aggression in their demands. She backed off, her entire body quaking from adrenaline and burgeoning dread, and sat beside Mia, suddenly a lot more fearful for the girl's safety. She wrapped an arm around the child and cupped her head to her chest, in a futile attempt to shield her from the lunacy that stood only feet away.
"We'll break it down," the man threatened.
"Go ahead," Hannah spat, conceded, happy to let fate decide on their survival. "Good luck."
"I'm not joking."
"Good, because you ain't fucking funny," Hannah replied.
The man pushed his head against the window, and headbutted the pane. "That bitch."
"Get the door open!"
"Teach her a fuckin' lesson."
"Right. We're going to count it down. Give you a chance to reconsider. I don't really want to kill anyone today, but it seems you're leaving us no choice."
Hannah tensed, readying herself for the worst. "Fuck off."
The man sneered through the door, his crooked face sluicing with droplets of sweat. "Wrong answer. And you're going to pay for that. One."
Hannah said nothing. She cuddled Mia close and watched the door.
"Two."
Hannah closed her eyes. "It'll be okay, Mia, I promise," she said, her conviction completely gone. She hugged the girl closer.
"Three."
SIXTEEN
Alex moved slowly around the service desk, hands held beside his head, and stopped in the centre of the shop. He observed in silence as one of the men slid Stephen's unconscious body across the floor, and left him lying at Alex's feet. The leader stepped forward and wrapped his bleeding hand in a towel, as the remaining men leapt over the desk and disappeared into the back room.
Alex stooped to tend to his friend. He touched the back of Stephen's head, felt warm wetness, and pulled his fingers away. They were coated in fresh blood, and that's when Alex noticed the large trail of blood slicked across the laminate flooring.
He didn’t have time to muse on this. The remaining man, the leader of the group, grasped him by the collar and shoved him away from the fallen figure. With a firm arm, the man held Alex at arm's length, and hissed, "You leave him to suffer. That's his punishment."
Alex resisted the urge to fight. "He needs help, he needs a –"
The man chuckled, and then punched Alex in the ribs, the strike swift and efficient. The wind whooshed out of his lungs, staggering him. Alex crumpled to his knees and coughed, spittle on his lips, his vision sparkling with glittering lights. He tried to blink them away, and his head began to throb again, as the mild injuries from the attack, enhanced by the fresh pain, became an issue once more.
The man reiterated his ultimatum. "I said, you leave him."
He released Alex and stepped back, leaning against the desk with his arms now folded. The fingers on his good hand tapped against his sleeve, stabbing the silence with a chorus of sharp taps. Alex adjusted his jacket, hissed through his teeth and checked on Stephen, who was still flat on his back. He didn’t move, but the spreading pool of blood around his head was fast becoming a concern. Alex remained on his knees, and turned his gaze to his attacker instead.
The man noticed, and smiled. "Name's Killswitch. I would say it's a pleasure to meet you, but we all know that would be an outright lie. That over there – in there – that's Slipknot and Hatebreed. Slipknot is the one with the mask, and Hatebreed – well, he's boring but essential." He pointed to the ceiling. "We own this place."
"Great names."
"I know," he sneered. "I picked them. It's a new world out there now."
Killswitch's ebony hair was swept into a neat side parting, a peculiar style that enhanced his skinhead undercut. His back and sides were gleaming, freshly shaved down to the deeply tanned flesh, which added an allure of thuggery to his already dominant demeanour. An intricate tribal tattoo snaked from his dipping neckline, finishing in a trident point just below the right ear. His hand – the one Alex could see – also provided the rugged canvas for a series of designs; unreadable words and indecipherable images, scribed across his knuckles and the back of his hand, respectively. The ink had faded through years of washing and daily usage, a common side effect of hand tattoos. Alex suspected the other hand and his arms were adorned with sim
ilar ink. The man's bulging physique was hardly contained in a tight leather jacket and skinny jeans, both of which seemed out of place on such an imposing figure. A tight black t-shirt and white Sketcher skate shoes finished the attire. In summary, the unique outfit seemed to be created for one sole reason; to intimidate.
Intimidate? Alex mused to himself. This guy looks like a grade-A cunt.
Reason with him.
Not a chance.
With a self-declared name like that?
You have no other choice.
Stephen needs help.
And he needs it now.
Alex considered his opening line, and led with a more routine question. "Who are you?"
"Who I am is irrelevant. All you need to know is one simple thing; this is my shop."
"How so?"
"Reasons do not matter. Not anymore."
"Anymore?"
"The world is a changing, my friend. Oh yes, it's finally a channnnnging. It was always inevitable. Society has been driving humanity into the ground for decades. Racism and religion and xenophobia – whatever you want to blame, and believe me, there's a hundred different reasons, people have been slowly destroying the human race since the dawn of time. Look at the ideology of Hitler, look at the brutality of Stalin. Look at that orange-faced muppet who has no right being in control of the world's biggest superpower. Yet, all of these men were allowed to rule, and it’s a damning statement about our idiocy. Our history tells us that humanity is flawed, yet we never learn from the tragedy that defines us. The assassination of presidents, the invention and deployment of nuclear weapons, the destruction of innocent people, like today's final straw. We were never put on this earth to co-exist, despite what history might tell you. We're a predatorial race at heart – everyone wants to top that food chain, and until that changes, we're doomed to extinction."