The space around him closed in, the walls of dirt and clay seeming to wobble like a concave mirror, only Embry was staring at limestone, granite, and molten rocks on all sides of him. As he dropped, he still didn’t see the bottom of the sinkhole. Embry turned on his penlight he stowed in his cargo pocket, the one he had found abandoned in the street, probably by a soldier who had long since fled.
The greenish light lit up the interior. The shadows fell away, and Embry could see clearer. And that’s when he saw the holes, big as caves, carved into the sides of the mountainous walls. In one, he thought there was a human limb, a part of a severed arm with a wedding ring on its finger. Embry suppressed a scream. He was moving, sucked towards one of the cavernous openings, a fly trapped in the world’s biggest spider web. For all his intentions to hide his fear, Embry couldn’t help but be terrified as he was sucked into the dark.
“Mr. Embry!” Morgan called from somewhere in the dark. It was his voice, but Embry couldn’t see the child anywhere. His head snapped up, heart pumping so fast like a blown carburetor.
“Morgan?” Embry replied, on edge. His voice echoed all throughout the nightmarish chamber. “Morgan is that you?” He pulled himself to his feet. He was in the inner sanctum of the void.
V
In the subterraneous caverns of the sinkhole, Morgan called out to his spiders. They did not come. What came were Tina’s feelers as it put him down in a lair. It chattered through its gaping mouthful of fangs.
“I know what you are,” he said.
Isssisssss… Tina said.
“You are who you say you are,” the child said, as he sat in his hindquarters and drew into the gravel. Stalactites and hanging precipices dripped water within the underground sinkhole. It was a whole new netherworld just below the fabric of city life.
“And you,” Tina lifted Morgan by his feet. Gum and spare change tumbled out of Morgan’s pocket, clinking on the granite. “Do you know who you are?”
Morgan said nothing as he gathered his inner strength. Don’t be afraid, he told himself. If she wanted to kill you, she would’ve done it already. Then it was the voice of his mother, reassuring and soothing in its hushed tone.
Don’t be scared, Morgan.
Oh, how he wanted to hug her now, to take him away from this hellish nightmare. He pictured her right now, hugging him at night, telling him how monsters didn’t exist. Oh, how wrong she was—how terribly wrong. Tina set him down, brushing her tongue across his pallid face.
“Do you, little child?” Tina’s many eyeballs rotated, blinking rapidly. She squatted next to him. “You are my Orin, my brother.”
“No no no no no no!” Morgan said, eyes bulging. “You’re a liar! I’m not your brother!”
“Oh, yes, you are. Look inside yourself and you know.”
Morgan’s face twisted in a bundle of knots and tears coursed down his cheeks. “You’re not my sister. Who are you?”
“I search for Isis.”
“Who is Isis?”
“The God of this universe,” she simpered and chuckled. Her mandibles clicked and chattered. “The mother to this world.”
“I don’t know any God.”
“Oh, yes you do,” Tina said. Her real fingers touched his hair and caressed it, patting it down. They whispered, slithering in between the tangles of his black hair. His body tugged upward as the strange sulfurous gassy air blew into his face. Morgan coughed, covering his mouth. He thought of his jars, and how he needed them now. But she was tangible. She was present and alive, and everybody could see her. There was no use trying to capture her in a jar. She wouldn’t fit!
“You do very well,” Tina said. Her eight legs stripped down her clothes and she hovered naked before Brewster. Hairs grew from every part of her body. She was shrouded in a black carpet of downy fur. Her lower tailbone curved outward like a spike, prickly studs dotting the edge of the spine. It grew longer as she inched closer, hissing. Closer, she came, closer still—until their skins touched. She sighed as she formed a bond, merging together as they became one flesh.
Chapter Seventeen
The silence is what unnerved him. Not being able to hear any auditory sounds, other than his own, disorientated Embry. As the tunnel sloped downward, he heard the grit-grit sound of his knees scraping and hands digging in the ground. He swallowed around the dry sandpaper that was his tongue. His saliva felt as if it had turned into cement. There was not enough of that to go around. He wished he could fill the entire sinkhole with it to the top.
With shallow, rapid breaths, Embry knuckled himself into another subterraneous chamber. This time, he could stand upright. He stood, feeling lightheaded, a little shaky in the ankles. Pins and needles worked up and down the soles of his feet. He pounded his boots on the mineral floor, trying to shake off the suffocating feeling that enshrouded him. The lack of oxygen flowing in the cramped space unsettled Embry. He wasn’t getting enough oxygen throughout his circulatory system, something which only made his cancer ravaged body weaker. Worse still, he could actually hear his own blood flowing through his veins.
“Morgan?” His voice died down completely. It made no echoes in the cavern, failing to even register a reverb. The vocal sounds floated in the air and dropped in its thick, soupy oppression. As Embry traveled farther into the narrow passageway, the walls closing in, it got quieter and quieter.
This was insanity, he thought. This must be what hell feels like.
Inside the fissure, the small section of the passage made a sharp left. It dipped downward and then upward, coming to a stop at a fork in the channel. To the right, gloomy black shadows beckoned him. Straight ahead, a soft cast of ambient light flickered, permeating slightly toward his left. He adjusted his penlight, directing the greenish glow at the walls of limestone. He squinted, peering hard down the corridor, craning his neck. He pointed back toward the dark gloom, then at the faintly lit passage angling downward. He turned off his penlight.
The light was still there.
And there was something else…
Stowing his light, Embry gripped the handle of his Swiss army knife, unsheathed it, and slowly moved around his wife’s high heel—black and scuffed—and descended into the madness that awaited him.
II
He saw. What he saw frightened him to the core—sucked the air right out of him. It was a grand stadium carved out of rock. It was as if a hand of God had created this indoor amphitheater. Music played shrilly—his wife’s favorite French song of a murdered loved one.
Embry couldn’t tell where it was coming from. He had the distinct feeling it was being sung by someone right next to his ear. It sounded far yet close, unable to pinpoint the precise location of the wailing woman. He got closer. Shadows danced on the walls. He walked down the steps, built in the cave. He heard the click clack of his boot heels striking the floor. A soft moan trailed out within the fissure. He saw movement behind a boulder, a craggy rock that lifted off the ground four feet high.
It was here, Embry witnessed the most horrifying scenery he could never imagine. There on a solid slab of granite was his wife, legs parted, torso at a wrong angle, and being screwed by a half human, half beast with bull horns and red eyes. This creature was fucking his wife—his dead wife. But his wife’s eyes were wide open and her mouth a gaping cleft. Blood spilled down her sutured neck. It painted the rocky walls each time the Minotaur thrust into her. It howled an inhuman shriek, tendons in his neck bulging; then, it turned to face Embry. As it did, he realized it wasn’t a creature that was half beast, but Donald Sheridan, a neighbor down the street. It was the man whom his wife had cheated on him with.
Beyond the shadows, another figure appeared silhouetted in the maroon darkness. This time, it was Johnny—the same Johnny who made his life a living hell, nearly causing a divorce between him and his wife. The young one who screwed better than him, and the many nights how Hanna had told him, that Johnny was more compatible—if you had showed enough attention, if you weren’t so involved
with your six pack cases and forty ounce bottles, I wouldn’t have done it— basically saying it was his fault, she hungered for another man’s cock.
Now, here she was—a dead beat wife being torn open from the inside out. Another dark shape formed outside of his vision. Terrance, the black stallion who took his wife for the ride of her life. They were all here. All the men whom Hanna had screwed and fucked behind his back raping her dead body. Indeed—a sight to behold.
Embry screamed at the nonsensicality of the sight.
“Get off her,” he bellowed, a lump knotting in his throat. “GET THE FUCK OFF HER!”
But they kept going, each one taking turns like a piston. What turned Embry insane was the sound of his blood surging through the capillaries mirrored what was enfolding before his eyes.
(whoosh dup whoosh dup)
And then, the one with the bull’s head turned his head and grinned. “Do you want to join us? Do you want to feel your wife’s spring that runneth dry?” Donald snorted, just as a bull would, and cackled inside the dark caverns, eyes lighting up like a jackal. And then, Hanna’s head turn as well, whites of her eyes rupturing out of their sockets, as viscous fluid dripped down her face. Each thump of her head opened up the knife wound that had been sewn shut, and her neck bent, hanging like meat.
Dear God, he could see the muscles and arteries behind that loosening skin. A sudden hunger overwhelmed Embry to eat her flesh. Something about the scent of blood—something about that lifeless body put together like a nightmarish cubist artist and that stink of fish—he envisioned himself chopping her body up in blocks and cooking it as stew.
He heard something; a scattering noise—something in the dark, rustling. He aimed his penlight in that direction. Empty stone walls beckoned him.
He felt an urge to strip down, grab the biggest piece of jagged rock, and slice his own genitals. Some sort of demonic force compelled him to masturbate while pulling his testes out of his scrotal sac and burst them like grapes between two fingers.
Pocketing the penlight, Embry lifted the biggest rock he could find and threw it at the inhuman monsters gang raping his wife. His aim was bad, and the rock bounced off the wall, clattering to the ground. When he looked again, he saw that they had disappeared, leaving a trail of laughter.
Someone—or something—snickered in the dark.
Out of the gloom, in the blackest corner of the crevice, a shadow emerged. It was the small frame of a little boy with tousled hair. The child’s eyes were completely white. His boy stood there, Gus! A heart-pounding screech articulated in his throat, as Embry stumbled backward, raising his hands in shock.
“Gus! You’re alive?”
Daddddyyyy… it whispered. Gus lifted both his arms as if wanting a hug. His hands opened and clenched shut. Daddddyyyyyyy…
Embry wept, tears rolling off his face. He sobbed heavily, coughing and clearing his throat.
“I’m sorry, Gus,” Embry moaned, taking a half-step forward. “I’m sorry for not being there for you.”
I dieeed because of youuuu…
“I know that,” Embry said. “I’m sorry for that. Can you ever forgive me, Gus?”
Dadddyyyyyy….
“What, baby? What is it?”
You’re a horrribbblee daddddyyyyyy…
“Don’t say that. I’m not. I should’ve been there for you—I know I should’ve been there for you, but I did the best I could, given the circumstance. I—I, I love you, baby…” Embry moaned, losing his sanity.
Bringing back reality in this dark hole was too much to bear. His mind drifted, slowly fracturing as he watched his boy glare up in a half-leering scowl. He heard Morgan’s voice stir deep inside the recess of his soul, a sudden cry that leapt out at him.
(Don’t be afraid. It can’t hurt you if you’re not afraid)
Embry’s boot dragged on the ground as he walked closer to his boy. Gus raised up a bottle of marshmallow flavored vodka. “Drink,” it said, leering. “Drink and be merry…”
This thing standing before him was not his child; he knew that. But the overwhelming feeling of pretending he was felt liberating. All he had to do was hug him close to his chest, and then, down that sucker, glugging away the ethanol like a cattle mower.
Get a grip of yourself, old man! He thought. Embry pulled out his knife, again. He moved closer, seemingly catatonic, gripping the handle behind his back. Don’t be fooled. It’s not your son. You can pretend he’s alive all you want, but you know when you envelop him in your arms, you’re a dead man. Gus died years ago in a car accident, because you weren’t around. You were there when they covered his casket with soil.
Embry was three feet away from Gus. The boy appeared solid, nothing looking out of the ordinary. He could almost smell him, the scent of Gus’s body. It was his boy.
It’s not your son! Stop confusing the two!
“Where’s Morgan?” Embry asked, gulping and taking another step. The blade felt heavy in his hand.
Gus smiled, lips turning the corner and revealing ultra-white incisors that gleamed in the tunnels of hell. Gus rose, almost floating, and then, Embry realized he was. The boy started to levitate in the air and, as he did, the top of his cranium opened up like a wastebasket removable lid; except here, Embry was seeing Gus’s skull burst open like an eggshell, and out of the top of his head, a fetus of an unborn child presented itself on top of Gus’s skull. Embry screamed, backtracking. A blast of air blew him off his feet and he toppled backward, landing hard on the ground.
“You bastard,” Embry yelled, rage and pain surging through him
Gus was gone. Now all that remained was Tina, standing on her hind legs with Morgan clutched in one talon.
III
Embry picked himself up as best as he could. He reached for the knife, hoisted it, and launched himself at the entity, screaming. He rammed himself straight ahead, charging into the gigantic spider. His right leg dragged, behind, twisted in the fall. He slashed through a part of her hindquarters. She reeled back, a mewling squall shifting bitter tears.
Tina dropped Morgan, skittered around the wall, and hung upside down. Her front legs reared up and crashed down on Embry, pinning him to the ground. Morgan looked just about as blanch as flour. He laid limply, chest rising and falling.
“Morgan!” Embry shouted, wheeling his head to see where his switchblade had fallen. It glittered well out of reach.
A long, curved talon skewered down and impaled Embry’s pants just below his groin, nailing him to the floor. Tina’s mutated face with dagger-like bristles leaned in close, a dull growl coming from its throat. Morgan tossed a rock at Tina’s head. Tina whirled around, clacking her fangs. She let go of Embry and scuttled toward her brother.
Embry got up and shuffled over to the knife, bent over, and grasped it clumsily in his hand. He limped the rest of the way and stabbed one of Tina’s legs. She hissed, shrieking, as she reared up.
Morgan cried out in his little boy’s voice, eyes humongous. “Don’t Mr. Embry! You’re feeding it. Stop being angry!”
Ohh, little one, so you’re on his side now…
Embry slashed through one leg. A long pair of hairy hindquarter covered in hair drooped. It spewed bubbling blood which splashed all over him. It got in his eyes too. He screamed, pulling back.
“Stop!”
“What do I do?” Embry yelled at the boy, rubbing the sticky excrement from his face.
“The fear made her whole,” Morgan whispered as the Tina spider directed her eight eyeballs in his direction.
Orinnn… she said. A new pair of legs began to grow. Why did you throw that at me?
“What—the rock?”
Yes, the rock!
“I don’t want you killing my friend!” Morgan shouted, baring his chest. He moved forward. “If you want to kill somebody, you should take me. You let him go. He has nothing to do with us.”
Lurching, Embry made his way toward Meredith’s child. “Run Morgan. Get away from it!”
&n
bsp; “I can’t”
“Why the hell not?”
“She’s my half sister…”
“Your sister?!”
The answer came to Embry then. He knew what to do, as much as the thought of it repulsed him. Tina watched Embry grab a fistful of Morgan’s hair and pull him back. He put the knife to the little boy’s throat.
What are you doing? Tina hissed. Her legs clattered with agitation. Put him down.
“Back off, or I swear I’ll kill him.” Embry grunted.
Tina scrabbled forward, neck rotating, hissing. She pulled her stinger back as she poised to spray a jet of acidic web from her lower thorax torso. Embry depressed the tip of the blade into Morgan’s neck, drawing a drop of blood.
“Don’t even try,” Embry hollered.
Tina stopped moving.
“Remember the spiders?” Embry whispered, his breath hot in Morgan’s ear. “Call them to you. Use them to get you out of here.”
“But I don’t want to leave you…”
“I’ll be okay. You know this is how it has to be. I have to handle it—or her—or whatever it is.”
“She’s a God.”
A pity… it drawled, slobbering its two separate mandibles. It teetered on its crawly legs and rocked its fizzing abdomen at Embry in a hypnotic sway. Funny children… I was going to possess your body, Embry, and compel you to finish off his mother… Just the way his mother killed your wife…
“Meredith didn’t kill Hanna.”
“Oh yes, she did. Ask her. Ask Orin,” Tina chittered, saliva dripping from her fangs.
“Meredith didn’t kill Hanna.” Embry repeated
Take control of your emotions. Don’t let her get to you. It gets stronger when you show fear and or anger. Keep calm. Keep centered, think happy thoughts.
Morgan sensed what was happening and closed his eyes, mumbling the words only he knew. Immediately they began to come, crawling out of the walls and the dark places towards him.
“I’m not scared of you. You have no hold over me. For years I felt responsible for my son’s death, but I know now it’s not my fault.
The Void Page 17