"What do we do?" Lisa cried.
"Yes," the voice thundered. "What do you do? I hold my breath in anticipation."
The wolves howled and stepped closer as the four friends stood between worlds, waiting for answers that would never come.
Chapter 5
When Romeo bounded down the rotten, wooden steps, he had no idea what to expect. The flashlight did very little to cut through the darkness, and his hands had quickly grown numb from the biting, damp air. Water dripped from the ceiling and pattered to the hard, dirt floor, forming crusty puddles of half-frozen mud. The air was thick with the smell of decay. He shined the light up the stairs, back from where he came, but the door had closed behind him and had grown a thick, fuzzy coating of reddish-green mold.
If his friends were on the other side of that door, he could no longer hear them.
"Cowards," he grumbled. He listened closely for several seconds and confirmed his suspicion. "Those lousy bastards."
In his anger, he'd momentarily forgotten why he'd come down there in the first place. Once his mission flooded back, he shined the flashlight around the cavernous room and looked for signs of Trina's passing. He heard her calling for him, he was sure of it, so where the hell was she?
"Trina? Baby? I know you're down here. Just call out, say anything and I'll find you." His throat was clogged with saliva; his sinuses pained from the pressure. "I know you're not dead. You can't be."
One tentative step at a time, Romeo walked forward, swinging his light from side to side as the semi-frozen ground crackled and crunched beneath his feet. Every step into the room was one more step further away from sanity.
"Give me a sign," he whined. "Anything."
"Nicky," a voice moaned from deep within the room. "Is that you? Please, help me."
Romeo stopped and held his breath. Trina was the only person in the world who called him Nicky. Even his own mother called him Nicholas.
"Baby, I knew you were okay," he cried. "The others wouldn't listen, but I told them I heard your voice." After a fit of uncontrolled sobbing, Romeo called out again. "Where are you? Help me find you."
"I'm here," Trina called. "I'm in a room with rock walls, and it's so dark, Nicky. Dark and cold."
"Just hang on. I'm coming."
"I'm hurt, Nicky. I think I'm bleeding."
"Don't move. I'm coming to get you. Everything is going to be okay."
Romeo forced himself onward even though his feet burned from the cold. He had no idea if he was even walking in the right direction; everything looked exactly the same.
"Trina, say something."
"Look for the rock walls. Please, it's so cold here."
"What fucking rock walls? There are no rock walls... or any walls for that matter."
"So cold."
The floor trembled beneath his feet. Romeo picked up the pace as his toes went numb. He staggered forward like a drunk on a bender, hands in front of him to prepare for the inevitable fall. The further he walked, the colder it became.
"Trina, I'm coming. Hold on, I'm..." His words caught in his throat as he stumbled over something stuck in the muddy floor. He shined the light down and gasped as one of Trina's sneakers came into view. The white leather was caked in bloody slime and was dotted with ragged holes from the wolf's teeth. The tattered shoelaces sat a few feet away, ground into the muck of the cellar floor. Romeo prayed that Trina had fared better than her discarded shoe, but he'd seen what it had done to her. It was a miracle she was alive at all.
At least he was getting close.
He tossed the sneaker aside and stood as his back popped painfully. This cold was wreaking havoc on his joints, but there was no way he'd turn around now. Trina was within his grasp.
After another minute of slopping through puddles of green, standing water, Romeo came to a solid stone wall. Its face was marred by streaks of dried blood and shallow scratches. Rusted manacles sat in the mud, attached to long chains anchored to the wall by heavy iron links. Romeo felt his gorge rise as he kicked aside a broken fingernail; a clump of filthy, brown hair stuck to the rock, still attached to a shriveled scrap of flesh.
"What did they do down here?"
"Nicky, is that you?" Trina cried. "There's someone here. I can hear them breathing."
"I'm right here," he replied. "I'm coming." He followed the wall, careful not to step on the assorted carnage. A bone snapped beneath his foot; a moldy finger pointed at him from the base of the wall; a bloody jacket sat in a heap of brown sludge that had once been on the inside of someone's body. Romeo fell to his knees and vomited into the grotesque pile of human remains. The stench of decay assailed him and made his head swim. With a jerk, he stood, as the broken face of a child's watch crunched beneath his shoe.
"I have to get out of here," he whimpered.
"I can hear you, Nicky," Trina called. "You're so close."
"I can't. I'm sorry, I can't. It's... it's a slaughterhouse in here."
"Grow a set of fucking balls and come help me," she screamed. "Are you always going to be such a pussy, or are you going to get some lead in that pencil?"
Romeo could barely see anything through his tears. The flashlight's beam fractured and became two, then four. He ran his hand along the slimy stone, looking for some way past it, some way through it. His chest hurt from crying.
"That's it," Trina cooed. "Just a bit further. There should be a doorway near the end of the wall. Come save me, Nicky."
"I'm trying," he blubbered.
"Then try HARDER! My friends always told me you were a spineless troll. I guess they were right. Romeo. Romeo. Everyone calls me fucking Romeo. If they could all see you now, pissing your pants and covered in your own puke."
"Stop it, Trina. Please."
"Stop it, Trina. Please," she mocked. "You wonder why I messed around with all your friends? They weren't weak little kittens. They could get it up and fuck me like I needed to be fucked."
"Stop talking that like, please. I love you. I've always loved you."
"Then grab a hold of that shriveled sack and come save me!"
Romeo wiped the tears from his eyes and took a deep breath. He came down here for one reason, and one reason only. Find Trina and get back to the others, and that's exactly what he was going to do.
"I'm coming," he assured her. "We're getting out of here."
"Thank you, Nicky. I knew you had it in you. My brave man. My savior."
Romeo quickened his pace and focused on the beam of light ahead of him. He no longer paid attention to what lie beneath his feet. Trina was right. He'd lived his entire life, scared of what he couldn't explain and always seeking the admiration of those around him. Just this one time, he was going to do something for someone else without needing a pat on the back. Trina had gotten through to him in a way no one else ever had.
"I'm coming, baby. I swear when we get out of here I'm going to change."
"Oh, Nicky, you know I love you, right?"
"I know," he sobbed. "I know you do. Hang on."
After another minute of forging through the dark, he came to a small, arched doorway leading deeper into the cellar. A corridor stretched before him with darkened doors on either side as far as he could see. One, in particular, caught his eye. Orange light flickered and cast a shadow into the hall. Trina had to be there.
As he stepped through the archway, something hard cracked beneath his shoe. He shined his light on the remains of a video camera, one he'd seen before.
"Oh my God. It's the camera. Trina, it's the camera, from that girl in the video."
"Don't worry about her. She's dead and cold. She should have never come here in the first place."
He glanced at the broken camera one last time and crossed into the hall. "Of course. You're right."
"I'm in here," she shouted. "Right here."
Romeo laughed, and once he started, it was so very hard to stop.
"I'm so sorry," he yelled. "So sorry I let them all treat you so badly. So sorry
I didn't find you sooner."
"All will be forgiven."
He ran to the glowing doorway and stopped. The flashlight slid from his hand and fell to the slab of cracked concrete. The light flickered twice and went out.
"Trina? What... what is this?"
"Yay," the Trina-thing said. "You found me."
The room wasn't much larger than a prison cell. A dozen candles sputtered in the thick, moist air, lining the base of the wall and casting a sickly orange glow on what remained of Trina's body.
"What are you... why are you up there?" Romeo stammered.
Trina floated three feet off the floor. Her head hung down and her face was covered by long strands of matted, bloody hair. Her left leg had been chewed off at the knee. Blood dripped steadily from the ragged stump and formed a circular puddle on the floor beneath her.
"Hiya honey," the thing said. "Wasn't this fun?"
"I don't understand. How... why?"
"None of that matters anymore. What matters is that you came to save me."
Romeo tried to respond, but his voice had suddenly gone into hiding. He croaked unintelligibly and winced as hot urine streamed down his thigh.
"That's how you're going to greet me? By pissing your pants like a scared, little bitch?"
"No, I mean yes, I mean... I'm sorry."
"You certainly are."
Trina raised her head and stared at Romeo with rheumy, bloodshot eyes. Stringy, yellow fluid bubbled from the gaping hole in her neck and dribbled down her chest. For the first time, Romeo noticed that her body was covered in dozens of scrapes and gouges, some so deep that bone glistened in the candlelight through jagged, wet tears in her flesh. Two broken ribs had pierced her skin and jutted through the thin cotton of her shirt.
Romeo gagged and choked back a scream.
"Aren't you happy to see me?" the Trina-thing gargled on its own blood. "I've been waiting for you."
"Nonononono," Romeo exclaimed. "You're not Trina! You're not her."
"Then who am I, lover boy?"
"A monster. You're a fucking monster!"
"Now you're hurting my feelings."
Her body floated toward him, her limbs flopping lifelessly as if controlled by the world's worst puppet master, dancing like a drunken marionette.
"Stay away from me, Trina. Please, don't come any closer."
"Since you asked so politely..."
Her body stopped and dangled before him, hanging limp like a carcass on the end of a meat hook. Romeo's body was frozen with fear. Snot leaked over his chattering teeth and dripped from his chin.
"What are you going to do to me?" he asked.
"I'm going to let you go," Trina said. Her mouth opened and closed out of sync with her words, like watching an old, poorly dubbed martial arts film. Romeo finally realized it wasn't Trina he'd found. It was her corpse, but every movement was controlled by some invisible other. Even her voice was a barely passable impersonation.
Romeo backed out into the hall, terrified of what he couldn't see in the pitch black hell of the house's underground.
"Farewell, my love," Trina-thing mocked. "Until we meet again."
Trina's body fell to the ground with a sickening thud, her dead eyes staring at the ceiling. Romeo covered his mouth to muffle the shrill, mewling cry that escaped from between his lips.
"I'm so sorry," he cried. "It's all my fault."
Trina's body twitched as the flesh on her arms split open, and hundreds of tiny, black faces poked from between the muscle and fat. Mandibles crunched on tendons and shreds of skin as a swarm of insects exploded from Trina's corpse and filled the room with their angry buzz. The Trina-thing laughed as a cloud of fat, black wasps exited her mouth and circled the room in a frenzy.
Romeo didn't realize he was screaming until one of them landed in his open mouth and jabbed its stinger into the soft meat of his tongue.
He spat the insect from his mouth and stomped on it as others stung his arms and neck. Another landed on his eyelid and began chewing at the paper-thin flesh.
After that, there was only screaming and running.
The pitch-black corridor seemed to stretch out for miles, but Romeo couldn't stop. His lungs felt like hot stones in his chest and his skin burned from dozens of stings, but all he could think about was getting as far away from Trina as possible.
When he collapsed, it wasn't from fear or pain, but out of sheer exhaustion.
A switch flicked off inside his head, and the darkness became absolute.
***
Geoff and Stacy ran as far as they could before collapsing in the snow several blocks from the burning market. Geoff's knee throbbed painfully and his vision had blurred from the stinging wind. Stacy coughed and gagged as she struggled to catch her breath.
"What was that thing?" she chattered. "What the fuck is going on?"
"I don't know and I don't care," Geoff replied. "I know in all the movies, the characters have to find meaning in the unexplained, but I'm not that guy."
"What does that even mean? I know you saw it; I know you heard those people screaming."
"I don't know what I heard. The wind? My mind playing tricks on me? All I want to do is get somewhere warm and forget all about it."
"You're crazy! You can't pretend this isn't happening."
"It's your fault," he muttered. "If you didn't have to watch that goddamn show and drag me out here, none of this would be happening."
"That's not fair! Did you think I knew this was going to happen? Did you think I planned for a snowstorm in the middle of summer?"
"And you're telling me I'm the one not accepting that something is very wrong here? You keep talking about the storm as if it's somehow possible that it's just a fucking storm! It doesn't snow in July, Stacy! People don't wake up miles away from where they went to sleep without any knowledge of what happened to them. You're the one that needs to open your eyes."
Stacy rubbed away fresh tears and inhaled deeply. "So what do we do?"
"We get out of the snow for starters, or we'll freeze to death long before we have to worry about what the fuck we just saw back there."
The sky brightened with a pale, blue glow that quickly turned to green and faded. In that brief moment, Geoff thought he saw people around him. Kids dressed in shorts walked the sidewalks; cars sped by, and the muted sounds of carnival music fought to be heard over the shrieking wind. It was like peeking through a window into the past, one where Elmview was still alive and not buried beneath the unnatural snow that had become its grave. As quickly as the glow appeared, it was gone. Geoff looked at Stacy to confirm what he'd seen, but she'd pulled her shirt over her face in an attempt to stay warm.
"We have to go," he said. "We can hide in one of these houses and wait it out."
"Wait what out?"
Geoff didn't reply. Whatever was happening, it was very real, but so was the threat of hypothermia. None of this would matter if they froze to death in the middle of the street.
"Come on," he urged, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet. "Maybe this will make sense once we get out of the storm."
It was Stacy's turn to remain silent.
On their right, a row of gray houses loomed out of the murk. They stumbled onto a broken sidewalk and eyed the empty windows as if waiting for someone to look back, but the coast was clear. Mounting the steps to one of the houses, Geoff took a deep breath and pushed on the front door, not expecting it to open freely. They stepped inside and closed the door behind them, glad to be out of the biting wind. Elmview had grown quiet.
The small living room was bathed in shadow. Whoever had lived here had seemingly gone out one afternoon and never came back. The furniture was untouched; a half-empty bottle of vodka sat on the coffee table next to a stack of unopened mail. There was a lingering smell of cigarette smoke, marijuana, and dirty litter boxes.
"Maybe we should pick another house," Stacy said, pinching her nose closed between her thumb and forefinger.
"B
eggars can't be choosers," he replied. He walked further into the room and sat heavily on a threadbare couch, massaging his swollen knee and gritting his teeth against the pins and needles that jabbed at his toes. "I wish there was a fireplace."
"There are blankets," Stacy replied, grabbing one from the floor and shaking it. "Not very clean ones."
Stacy tossed one to Geoff and wrapped herself in another, one that smelled strongly of sweat and dust.
Geoff eyed the bottle of vodka.
"You think it's still any good?"
"Are you kidding me? Everything that's going on and you want to get drunk on a hundred-year-old bottle of vodka?"
"Do you have a better idea?" He grabbed it and unscrewed the cap.
"Don't you dare! That's disgusting."
He sniffed the opening and wrinkled his nose. "It smells like an ashtray."
"Do you have any idea the number of diseases there could be on that bottle?"
"Do you think a case of herpes is the worst thing that can happen to me right now?"
Stacy put her hands up in surrender and sat next to him on the couch as he upended the bottle and took a few swallows of the icy liquid. The cold quickly became a pleasant heat in his stomach.
"Oh, it's so bad," he grunted.
"I told you."
"No, it's a good bad. Take a swig," he said, offering her the bottle. "It'll warm you up."
"I'm going to regret this," Stacy groaned as she grabbed the bottle and sipped. "I hate vodka."
"Let's consider it a survival tool," he laughed, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. "Everything is better with booze."
As the minutes passed, warmth seeped back into their bodies. Geoff spied a candle on the end table and lit it with his Zippo, hoping it would chase away some of the shadows, but it only seemed to add new ones. The curtains fluttered as wind blew in through a crack in the glass; fine snow collected on the carpet, glistening in the candle's glow.
"Can we please talk about this?" Stacy asked.
"Babe, I don't even know where to begin."
"Start with a logical explanation, one that I can wrap my head around."
"Okay, fine." Geoff took another swallow of vodka and placed it on the coffee table. "What if Romeo or Dink spiked our beer with something? Maybe we're tripping on acid and none of this is actually real."
The Traveler (The Great Rift Book 2) Page 8