The house and all who dared enter were damned even before crossing the threshold.
"I'm not feeling too good about this," Geoff said.
"We've come this far."
Geoff heard the tremble in the boy's voice, the weariness in his words.
"Are you going to be able to do this?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"There are a lot of choices. Unfortunately, none of them are any damn good."
The boy was the first to begin the climb up the blasted hillside. Torches lined the makeshift path, painting the ground with flickering, orange firelight. The house groaned and creaked as it shuddered on its foundation. It was as much a living thing as the monster itself, imbued with the anger and pain and hatred of the Skryel's long imprisonment in the dark, cold recess of its cage. The earth shook as they fell to their knees and clung to the loose dirt.
Their enemy was doing everything it could to stop them.
"Is that all you got?" Eric bellowed. "You're going to have to better than that."
"What are you doing? Trying to provoke it?"
"It's weak," he said. "Why do you think we're still alive? It used its energy following us. Used its power to kill your friends and show off. Your ego will be your downfall," he shouted up at the house.
"Okay, it's weak, but do you have to poke it with a stick?"
"I can play games too."
The hill trembled again, tumbling loose stones and grit into their eyes. On each side of the lit path, patches of ground swirled and opened, creating small whirlpools in the sandy surface. From each hole grew tall, wooden stakes topped with impaled, lifeless corpses. Eric groaned and struggled to his feet, watching as others rose ten feet over his head. The shriveled bodies danced lifelessly as the stakes pierced the sky, silhouetted by sickly, red clouds. The smell of decay made Geoff's gorge rise.
Raspy voices whispered from cracked, bloodless lips, as the corpses turned to watch them with milky eyes.
"No," Eric cried. "You don't get to do this! Their fight is over, goddamn you! Let them rest!"
Geoff placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "What is this? Who are they?"
The boy didn't answer, but the corpses did.
"Eric," the nearest body hissed. "Come give your mother a hug. It's been so long."
"No. It isn't you!"
"Don't backtalk me you little bastard. Get over here and let me taste you."
"What the fuck?" Geoff shouted. "That's your mother?"
"No. My mother is dead. It's playing tricks on me, trying to stop me."
"You ungrateful son of a bitch," his mother's corpse growled. "Is it any wonder I drink? You did this to me! You wanted me dead."
Eric walked ahead, passing his mother's body without a second thought. As he did, her corpse stilled, like a mechanical dummy programmed to function only when sensing motion - a two-bit, Halloween porch decoration.
"That's my sister," Eric stated, pointing to another corpse as it sprung to life.
"Oh, how cute," her voice shrilled. "You found a new friend to play with your tiny pecker. You boys taking turns bending over for each other, huh? Come here, faggot. You have to pay for what happened to us."
Eric didn't waste time or energy to glance at his dead sister, instead passing it silently with his middle finger in the air. Geoff shook his head, stunned and disgusted by the naked hatred he heard in her voice.
"Tell me this isn't how they were," Geoff said. "Tell me the evil prick is making them talk this way."
"Nope," Eric blurted. "This is exactly how they were. My mother was an alcoholic and my sister was a pothead who got off on making my life as awful as possible."
"Hey! I'm a pothead. I don't talk like that."
"My sister was in a league of her own."
As they approached the next post, the corpse of a man raised his head and looked down at them with a scowl. Black blood dribbled from a bullet hole in the side of his head. Geoff didn't need to ask who the man was, didn't need Maury Povich to announce the paternity results. He'd never seen such a striking family resemblance: from the slight upturn of his nose, to the color of his hair, to the line of his jaw. If Eric had lived long enough to reach adulthood, Geoff imagined the two of them would have been indistinguishable.
This time Eric stopped. A high, muffled whine escaped his lips as he stared up at his dead father with tears in his eyes.
"Why are you doing this, Eric?" the man asked. "You know you'll never win. You're not strong enough to do what needs to be done."
Eric shook his head violently. "This isn't you, dad."
"Who the hell else would I be? Of course, it's me." The man's voice softened as he continued. "You saw what happened before. You know how all this is going to end. Turn around and forget what you know. Live out your life somewhere else, make new friends, enjoy what time you have left."
"Why are you saying this? You gave your life to stop this thing. We both did. You know I can't walk away now without sending it back to the void."
"It's you who will be sent to the void. It's too strong, Eric. Now listen to your father; turn around and get out of here while you still can."
"I won't," he yelled. "The Shadowking doesn't get to win! How much can it take before there's nothing left? Before all the worlds are empty wastelands?"
"There's always more," he replied, but his voice had changed. Geoff grabbed Eric and pulled him back as his father's corpse reached down for him with shriveled fingers. "Always more! Worlds on top of worlds on top of worlds! An infinite number of scared little parasites running for their lives. Every day, the human plague spreads like a cancer, and it must be stopped."
The pale globes of the man's eyes rolled around in his skull as more blood leaked from the wound in his temple. Geoff tried to hold the boy back, but Eric wrestled away from his grip and grabbed the tall pole with both hands, rocking it from side to side.
"Eric, what are you doing?" Geoff asked. "Just leave it alone. You know it isn't your father."
"I can't listen to this shit anymore," he huffed. "It gets inside your head..."
"That's right, boy! Show me that anger. Your mother's milk is still drying on your lips and yet you think you have the sack to confront me. Do your best! Let the rage consume you. It'll taste so wonderful!"
"SHUT UP!" Eric wailed, doubling his efforts to topple the wooden pole. His hands bled as sharp splinters pierced his palms, but he was beyond pain. Geoff wanted to help him, but realized this was something Eric needed to do on his own. He watched silently as the corpse's eyes began glowing like molten silver; a piercing cackle escaped from its bloody lips as the pole tilted and fell onto the path with a meaty thump.
Eric didn't waste any time. He stood over his father's body, fists clenched, his face a mask of bitter hatred.
"You're not my father, you son of a bitch! You have no father. You were dumped out of the cosmic dust like a pile of shit. A vile, stinking creature that no one wanted." Eric raised his foot and stomped down on the corpse's chest with all his might. Geoff looked away, nauseated by the sound of ribs breaking beneath the sole of Eric's shoe. "You belong in the dark, hidden from view and forgotten like moldy garbage." Crunch. "You're not a god, you're a pest! A bug that needs to be squashed." The end of each sentence was punctuated by another loud crack, another wet squish as Eric turned the man's internal organs into soup.
Still, the laughter continued as clotted blood slopped from his mouth and collected in the dirt like a pile of grape jelly.
"You killed all those like you. Your jealousy and your hate were so strong you exterminated your entire race. And for what? Now you're all alone. The mighty Shadowking! You're no king... you're a weak, disgusting monster that has to hide in the dark like some deformed animal!" Eric brought his foot down on his father's face with a sickening crack, breaking his nose and splitting his upper lip wide open. His laughter became the wet, liquid squelch of boiling mud. If there was anything left in Geoff's stomach, he'd have spewed it into the dirt.
He heaved painfully and covered his ears.
"Eric, please. Enough."
The boy grunted with each strike, mashing his father's skull into the ground, splintering bone and tearing flesh like wet newspaper. He didn't stop until the laughter died in the corpse's throat. His shoe was covered with a grotesque mix of blood, skin, and body fluid. Glistening chunks of brain matter and hair clung to his leg. Eric stepped back and looked at his handiwork, putting his hands on his hips and grinning tiredly. Goosebumps broke out on Geoff's arms from the boy's vacant stare and satisfied smile.
"Are you done?" he asked.
Eric nodded.
"Are you okay? You're not going to go all psycho killer on me or anything, right?"
"No," he panted. "I'm sorry if I scared you. I had to do it... I just had to."
"You don't need to apologize to me. I just want to know if you're going to be okay. Let's face it, if you go batshit crazy out here, I'm screwed. Stacy's screwed. We'll die here."
"I'm not going crazy. At least I don't think I am."
"No! No, no no! That is not the answer I need from you right now."
"That thing thinks we're going to kneel down and give up," Eric said. "I'm done hiding. It needs to realize we don't scare so easily. These parlor tricks aren't going to cut it."
"Really? Because I'm plenty scared. Piss-your-pants scared."
The house had gone quiet. Dull light burned from within, but there was no sign of the Skryel anywhere. Not knowing exactly where it was was even worse.
"We're close now," Eric said. "Only a bit further."
"I don't know how much longer I can do this. My legs are on fire."
"Crawl if you have to. This needs to end."
Geoff turned and looked out over Elmview's desolate remains, squinting in the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of the house where Stacy slept. Red dust skated across the broken streets, burying what was left of man's short time on this now barren rock. He felt a million miles away from the life he'd left behind; an explorer stranded on a distant world. Tears leaked from his eyes.
"I've never seen something so lifeless. It's as if no one has ever stepped foot on this ground. All the lives, the families, the fading echoes of memories just scattered to the wind. Not even gravestones to mark their passing... only emptiness."
"And it's going to happen on a million other worlds if we don't fight back."
Geoff rubbed his eyes and breathed deeply, choking on the airborne grit. "Lead the way."
They climbed slowly up the hill, passing the other tall poles that had grown from the earth. The corpses remained motionless; whatever power the Skryel had been using to animate the dead had been extinguished. Eric glanced at each one, wincing at their familiarity, but Geoff refused to ask him who they were. More family? Friends? Did it matter? The boy was without a home, forced to travel the multiverse and watch as his enemy stayed two steps ahead of him.
How would this time be any different?
When they reached the top of the hill, they stopped and stared into the house's front foyer, waiting for a sign that they'd be greeted at the door by another abomination. It was the lack of sound and the absence of movement that scared them most.
They knew the Skryel was watching and waiting.
They knew that as soon as they went inside there was no turning back.
Eric swallowed and held his breath as he climbed the steps, wrapped in the house's oppressive energy field. Geoff felt the hair stand up on his arms and neck as icy fingers reached out and beckoned him closer.
When he climbed up behind Eric, he no longer felt the steps beneath his feet and wasn't sure if he was moving of his own volition or being pulled forward by unseen hands.
As the door closed behind them, Geoff realized it no longer mattered.
Chapter 13
The house was just as Geoff remembered. It could have been any abandoned house in any rundown community across the country, but he and his friends had found out the hard way that not everything is always what it seems.
Geoff was the only one left alive to talk about it... if he made it out of here.
"All these years and this hellhole has been hiding in plain sight," Geoff said. "How many people have walked through that door and never walked out?"
"Too many to mention," Eric replied.
"Eric, what happened to your father? What was that all about?"
The boy hung his head and searched for an answer. "My dad was also a doorway, just like you and Danny. I knew nothing about it at the time, but Ben told me what had happened. My mother lied to me for years, but she knew the truth, or at least part of it. When the Skryel came for him, he knew he wasn't strong enough to fight. His only option was to end his life."
"How many doorways are there, and why the hell does it keep coming back to Elmview? What's so special about this place?"
"I don't know. Ben once said it's a place of power, one where the veil between worlds is very thin. It makes for an easy entry into our world."
"So the Great Rift is real," Geoff mused. "That asshole television host was right. Now I hate him even more."
Eric shrugged. "It doesn't really matter, does it? The Skryel will always find a way through. Another hole in the veil, another doorway, another vacant house on the edge of town."
"At least this will be one less," Geoff said.
Standing in the foyer, Geoff realized he wasn't exactly sure what they were doing there. He understood the need to destroy this foul place, but had no idea how to do so.
"There must be something here," Eric mumbled.
"Yeah, like a self-destruct button."
"I don't think it'll be that simple."
"Can't I use my power... my arm thing? You know? The light or whatever?"
"No. You don't know how to channel it yet. We got lucky back at the church."
"You said Danny used his power to send it away. How did he know? How did he learn?"
"He didn't. Danny is just different, and the Shadowking knows it. It's the only reason Danny is still alive. The monster knows it doesn't stand a chance if it isn't strong enough to wage war against him."
"Then why the hell don't we pay him a visit? Seems like a good guy to have on our side."
"I hate to say it, but I think it will eventually come to that."
Geoff heard a faint noise on his left and turned toward the darkened entrance to the house's dining room. He recalled what it looked like in daylight, but with the diffused, red glow from outside, it took on a whole new character. He didn't pretend to be an expert on all things Skryel, but he learned enough to know not to investigate the source of the sound. Everything here could be a trap.
When he heard his friend's voice, caution went out the window.
"Dink? Dink is that you?"
"Geoff! Please help me. Get me the hell out of here."
Dink stood in the shadows on the opposite side of the doorway, squinting as if looking at a mirage. He forced a smile, but it was the most pathetic attempt Geoff had ever seen.
"How did you get here?" Geoff cried. "I thought you were dead."
"Geoff, don't..." Eric pleaded, reaching for Geoff's arm.
"It's Dink," he shouted. "I'm not leaving him here."
Before Eric could stop him, Geoff ran past, arms outstretched to embrace his friend...
...but he didn't get very far.
Geoff stopped at the threshold suddenly as his arms buckled and his face slammed into an invisible barrier, like a thick wall of glass had been placed in the center of the doorway. He fell back, confused, rubbing the sore lump that quickly formed on his forehead.
"What is this? There's nothing there. I don't understand."
"Don't try it, Geoff," Dink cried. "There's no way in or out. It's like a goddamn fishbowl."
Geoff stepped forward cautiously and pressed his palms to the invisible wall separating him and Dink. He ran his hands along the edges, feeling for an opening, some gap in the wall's surface, but it was perfectly sealed.
"I'm going to get you out of there."
"No, Geoff. Listen to me. You can't save us. Any of us. We're trapped here."
"Us? You mean the others are here with you? Where are they? Please, Dink, tell me what to do."
"Sometimes I can hear them shouting," he said. "Above me, below me, in here with me. There's no way out. Leave while you still can."
"Listen to him," Eric said as he joined Geoff at the wall. "You can't get in there. The Skryel is playing with you, just like it did outside to me. It's trying to scare you, break you down."
"Well it worked for you, didn't it?" Geoff asked angrily. "You stomped your own father's head into jelly."
"It wasn't my father, and this isn't Dink. It's just energy."
"It burned us alive, Geoff. Me and Beth." Dink had begun crying, trembling from the memory. "It took us somewhere else, another place, and it lit us up like dry grass. I've never felt such agony in my whole life. I can still feel it burning beneath my skin."
"We have to save him!" Geoff begged. "There has to be something you can do."
"He's out of our reach, you have to listen to me. Dink is dead. All you're seeing is his soul energy, trapped in the void, stored for the Skryel to feed. He's just an image on a television screen."
"So go to him! Travel! Get him out. I've seen what you can do."
"There's nothing left to save, Geoff. You have to believe me."
"No, I don't." Geoff pounded on the clear barrier, but it felt like concrete beneath his hands.
"Please, save yourself," Dink said. "It's coming, and when it does there won't be any way out. Just go."
The transparent wall shimmered and went dark, replaced by gray, swirling smoke. Geoff could no longer see Dink on the other side, but he heard him choking on the noxious fumes. Geoff pounded on the wall until his knuckles cracked open and bled, but his attempts were futile.
The Traveler (The Great Rift Book 2) Page 19