Tormented

by Lee Mountford

  A strong smell of copper filled the air—the smell of death.

  Adrian hugged the wall behind him as one of the living nightmares approached. It was that vile worm, what used to be Sean, and it wriggled its way closer, arching its centre as it did, its movements like that of a caterpillar. Adrian noticed other features at this close distance as well, including small, stabbing legs that held its weight as it moved. The thing drew nearer, reared up, supporting itself on its hind third, and opened its dripping mouth. But it wasn’t facing Adrian… not quite.

  Luckily for him.

  The thing made a disgusting, gurgling sound, and belched forward a yellow liquid from its mouth in a powerful blast. The fluid coated the patient next to Adrian, and Adrian quickly pulled away from him, feeling a ferocious burning on his arm where some of the liquid had landed.

  However, the patient next to him had taken the full hit and was howling in agonising pain. Adrian could smell it before he even looked up—a stomach-churning mixture of sour bile and burning flesh. The man’s hands were on his face, but as he pulled them away Adrian saw a melted mess beneath; a mixture of running yellows, pinks, and browns that held the vague shape of a face, but one that sagged and dropped. Adrian managed to put further distance between himself and the unfortunate victim next to him as another blast of the searing liquid coated the inmate. Then another, mercilessly, as he screamed like Adrian had never heard anyone before.

  The vile smell grew stronger as the man was coated in even more of the bile-like substance. He dropped to the floor, throwing his arms over his head, but the assault continued. The man’s hands soon melted into his bubbling cranium, and his clothing dissolved, leaving his dripping, oozing body visible beneath, now with a consistency of running wax. As his throat oozed away, stripping the vocal cords, the inmate’s screams halted, but he still writhed as his flesh pooled below him. A sagging ribcage was exposed as more and more of the liquid was spewed over him. Thankfully, he eventually stopped moving, and the creature moved in, lowering its monstrous mouth to what was left of his body.

  Adrian ran when he heard the slurping sounds as the beast started to suck up the watery remains.

  He slipped on an entrail and fell to the floor, suddenly feeling far too far exposed out in the open.

  Ready to be picked off.

  He scuttled backwards, practically crab-walking, and again pressed himself against the side wall. Looking out into the chaos, Adrian saw that poor Trevor had been taken as well. A hunched creature with a bloated, translucent belly showing black blood within had him captured, embraced in a hug. And it appeared to have just finished its act of regurgitating the black substance—that seemed to be at the heart of this madness—into Trevor’s mouth, and the poor man was now bucking and spasming in its arms.

  It then dropped him to the floor, seemingly finished with him, and moved on to its next victim, joining in with a crowd of other beasts that were literally pulling a man apart. Legs and arms were twisted free, and his stomach was pulled open. Lastly, his jaw was yanked off, leaving a lolling tongue that wriggled in the air before the head was detached completely.

  Adrian watched as Trevor then turned.

  Like the other transformations he had witnessed, this one, too, caused the victim to twitch and move in sudden, broken spasms. And the process was obviously excruciating, as Trevor screamed in pain while his chest expanded and a gelatinous gut pushed out even further. Grotesque, veiny bosoms formed and sagged down to his sides. His arms and legs engorged as well, fattening out as his body grew, and his head was pulled down towards one fat shoulder. Another monstrous head and face emerged and reared up, taking prominence—demonic, with a round, snapping mouth. Adrian couldn’t help but think it had feminine features, with sharp eyes and a thin nose. Trevor’s face was now completely melded into the flesh of the left shoulder, still screaming in silence as no sounded emitted from the moving mouth.

  This new creature stood high, almost as tall as the behemoth that was now running wild.

  But Trevor’s transformation was not quite complete.

  Something that loosely resembled male genitalia started to protrude from the underside of the sagging, grey gut. The long, stalk-like thing moved and bobbed independently, and even had a snapping mouth of its own—lined with teeth—at the head.

  A horrific mesh of male and female, twisted into a monstrous form.

  Mother, Adrian thought.

  And soon Mother was on someone, and the acts of depravity she carried out on that poor inmate were vile beyond belief. Screaming was of no use as the poor man was violently abused and then killed, his limbs twisted and torn away.

  Adrian wanted to give up. Seeing such carnage and depravity was just too much. Part of him just wanted to lie down and wait for death to come, but the fear of how painful that death would be drove him on.

  He crawled onwards, trying to skirt the edge of the room to avoid the violence and make it back to the door. Maybe there was a small chance that he could make it unseen, though the odds of that were not in his favour.

  Amongst the carnage of all that was happening, the most ferocious came from the hulking beast at the centre of the room, one that towered over everything else.

  It held aloft two men, one in each hand. The one in the left was fighting for his life as the paw of the monster engulfed his head, slowly crushing it, taking its time and enjoying his suffering.

  In the other, the man was close to death. He was already peeled of his skin, and the monster took periodic bites from the exposed flesh, tearing chunks away.

  Mangled bodies lay scattered at its feet.

  Adrian moved quicker, circling the room, desperate to escape the notice of the evil creatures.

  But soon his luck ran out.

  Something tall stepped in front of him, setting a heavy foot down. When Adrian looked up, he saw one of the more human-looking creatures standing above him. Perhaps one of the first to turn, it seemed stretched out, gangly, with long limbs and bumpy skin. The only other features that marked it as inhuman were the small littering of eyes about its chest and shoulders, and a mouth that split up in the centre of its stomach.

  It made an excited noise, almost a laugh, and then reached down for him. Adrian tried to crawl away, but felt its hand wrap around his ankle. It dragged him back, clearly stronger than him, but not as overpowering and dominant as most of the transformed nightmares that tore their way through the remaining residents of the ward.

  When it let go of him, Adrian quickly rolled onto his back and looked up at the thing as it stared down at him. Its teeth seemed far too long, and razor sharp, and it reached down again and grabbed him by the throat with both hands. Adrian felt himself heaved up, and he dangled before the demon as his legs kicked below him, trying and failing to find purchase on something.

  He felt himself slowly brought in towards the face of his attacker and could feel and smell its hot, rancid breath on his face. A thin, pink tongue slithered from the open mouth and snaked its way towards Adrian. The appendage was ridiculously long, and quickly found its way to his face, licking up his skin.

  Tasting him.

  A ripple of pleasure seemed to surge through the creature, and it emitted a long moan. Then it opened its mouth further, and Adrian readied himself to be eaten alive.

  But that was not the creature’s intent.

  Long fingers pushed their way into Adrian’s mouth and forced it open, pulling his jaw down. It then moved him closer and started to make gagging motions.

  Adrian soon realised what it had planned for him. Whatever criteria these things had to select who would be chosen to join their ranks, he appeared to have matched it.

  He was to be turned. He would twist and change and would soon be one of them. And he would commit the same acts of evil they revelled in.

  He would be a monster. Thoughts of his father leapt to the fore of Adrian’s mind. He remembered those acts of depravity his father revelled in, and the things he did to Adrian as a bo
y.

  No.

  He couldn’t allow that to happen—he would not turn into such a beast. That fate was worse than any other he had witnessed so far—hell, he would have preferred the end that came to the melted man who had been slurped up by the monstrous worm, and the pain that came with it. He would not become what he loathed so much.

  So Adrian fought back.

  The monster held him close to it, so Adrian used the proximity to his advantage, reaching out his hands to claw and fight. His attack was a targeted one, and he cut his fingers down the hard skin of the demon, making sure to scrape over the small eyes that covered its chest, driving his fingers into the milky bulbs. He felt some pop beneath him, and to his surprise the creature howled in pain. He continued with his attack, gouging and scratching at the small, inhuman eyes, breaking them open like fish eggs as a yellowy substance spurted free.

  Adrian felt the pressure on his throat release as the creature dropped him. As inhuman as these things were, they could still feel pain. He then cast a glance at the tank-like behemoth as it crushed men beneath it.

  Okay, so maybe only some of them felt pain.

  He couldn’t imagine anything being able to hurt that giant enforcer.

  Adrian moved quickly and made a dash for the exit. Up ahead, in the doorway, he saw Jack beckoning him on. The big man had gotten clear of the room, which Adrian was glad to see. And cowering next to him was that doctor, Reid. They had made it out, and as they were not being attacked, it seemed the hallway outside was clear.

  That gave him hope, so he pushed himself, running at full sprint. However, as he neared the door, he felt something grab his wrist and stop him.

  Another creature to fend off, he assumed, and he didn’t think he would be lucky enough to escape a second attack. But when he spun, he saw that it was Seymour—bloodied and battered—who grasped hold of his wrist.

  ‘Don’t leave me here,’ the fat man said, eyes wide in terror.

  Adrian didn’t reply, he just pulled his arm away, then turned and ran. He felt Seymour behind him, and hoped his unwanted companion did not draw attention.

  But that proved not to be the case.

  As the two men managed to break free of the room and sprint up the corridor alongside Jack and Dr. Reid, Adrian heard something following behind, emitting an awful, hellish screech.

  43

  Isaac Templeton’s mind swam back into consciousness as agony wracked his senses. He felt submerged, somehow, and tried to scream, but a suffocating, scalding liquid flooded his mouth and body, burning him up inside and out.

  He kicked and flailed as he felt his flesh burning.

  Desperate, he began to swim as hard as he could in a direction he assumed to be up.

  Eventually, he broke free of the surface and pulled humid air into his lungs. The cold of the environment above the boiling water was a stark contrast on his searing skin. Templeton opened his eyes… and immediately wished he hadn’t.

  He knew where he was.

  He’d seen this place before.

  In his dreams after consuming the blood of The Great Being.

  The endless, alien sky above dwarfed him, and flashes of red lightning illuminated the surface of the sea he bobbed up and down in. Those stars, circling together to form a great eye, were maddening to look at.

  The water continued to scald him, and Templeton looked at his arms to see them ruined and stripped of skin, with only red and black flesh exposed beneath.

  He should be dead—perhaps he was—but still he continued to exist. Another flash, and up ahead he saw a landscape. Agony continued to rage as the boiling water cooked him, so he began to swim again, this time towards the landmass up ahead, every stroke causing more and more white-hot pain.

  How long it took him, Templeton could not say, but eventually he heaved his ruined body out onto the hard shore—a black, rock-like surface, one that exuded a red substance when pressure was applied. Small pools of it formed around his hands and knees as he crawled from the water, screaming, allowing his steaming, ravaged body to take in the cooling air. He then heaved, involuntarily purging water and chunks from his stomach. As he looked down to the mass that he had expelled, he saw red flesh and stringy intestines.

  He began to scream again and, looking up, saw the same landscape from his dream.

  Only this felt much more real.

  Because it was real.

  Whatever happened to him back in the asylum had brought some part of him here, and had spat him out in the boiling sea.

  To be trapped for eternity.

  Creatures and nightmarish visions roamed before him, wandering the terrifying wasteland. A being so big that its head touched the sky scrawled its way across the far distance.

  The fear Templeton felt was absolute.

  How long until one of these horrors found him and then had their way with him?

  He began to sob.

  Then a noise caught his attention—the sound of something dragging over the stone ground—and he looked up to see whatever it was approach.

  The thing looked human, but without skin—only scabbed, blackened flesh. It crawled on all fours, keeping low.

  ‘So it is,’ the thing said, in a strained, gravelly voice. ‘I was told that you would come.’

  Whatever this thing was, it had a familiarity to it and, as it drew closer, Templeton recognised exactly who it was. But that was impossible.

  It can’t be him.

  The thing grew closer and pulled the ruined flesh around its mouth into a smile.

  ‘Hello, old friend,’ said Robert Wilson.

  44

  The being made its way from the chamber where its creator lay and into a large area beyond. It saw rooms off of the central space, all open and empty.

  On the floor was a ruined body, one that had been similar to its own, though now it was little more than a mangled husk. It also seemed to be drained of much of its meat.

  The entity studied the ruined corpse and felt something twinge within it. Concentrating harder, it felt as though it could reach out with its mind and actually touch the body.

  Which is exactly what it did… and the body twitched.

  With increased focus, the corpse was lifted from the ground—bobbing at first as the entity controlled the link between mind and matter. With extra effort came more confidence and control, and the body hung limply, unmoving, until it was pulled forward and then hovered above the entity.

  The thing with no name, or identity.

  Not yet.

  Then the being obliterated the hanging sack of meat, pulling its atoms apart, causing it to burst into chunks of red flesh and a shower of blood, all of which rained down over the thing. It savoured the feeling of blood and meat, which once brought life, slopping down upon it, coating it in the stink of death.

  A first step: learning just what it was capable of.

  The being then continued through the dark place. The whole environment seemed very familiar—but not from its creator. The memories it now accessed were, it knew, from its original host. A pathetic, weak creature, typical of the kind that inhabited this world.

  This plane of existence.

  But that sub-creature now existed somewhere else, its life-force thrust over to the home the creator. A home that the entity would never know, but one it yearned for. So, instead, it would have to make the best of this world.

  And change it.

  Now upstairs, the being felt that a transformation was underway in the environment around it; the creator was spreading its influence, reaching out with its winding, twisting roots, and in doing so was changing the surroundings. Growths had formed on the walls and ceilings, and pods of flesh pumped out small puffs of black spores into the air.

  It could hear other, lesser children of the creator close by, indulging in their desires. But it felt no desire to go to them. They were lower than it was.

  Beneath it.

  Two of them even wandered the level on which the creature now f
ound itself. They were aimless, but steered clear of the being. They were scared of it.

  As they should be.

  It considered pulling them apart, for no other reason than to further test its powers; however, it was curious to see something else first.

  It walked to a doorway, and with a flick of its head, pulled the door open, breaking the primitive lock in the process. The being then wandered the corridor towards its destination, eager to see the place that the lowly human who had inhabited body before—Templeton… Isaac Templeton—was so attached to.

  The Chapel.

  A place, it understood, that these humans used for worship.

  False gods.

  The being soon reached its destination and entered the Chapel.

  It looked around, taking in the details, less concerned with the overall aesthetics of the room—which even now were beginning to warp and twist thanks to the creator—but more on the smaller details.

  The symbols of religion.

  The effigies.

  A man stuck to a cross, hanging in pain. This was a symbol of hope and virtue to these humans?

  The being scoffed.

  Hope and virtue were as pointless. They were not the real truths and values of this universe.

  It knew what these humans were—small, lowly, and blind. Insects scurrying around without the capacity to understand the true order of the universe.

  Perhaps it was a lingering echo of the humanity that resided within it, but the being had a desire to change things here. To violate what was a false place of worship. To cleanse its message from the world and replace it with one much more fitting.

  Much more pure.

  The being moved to a circular, ornate mirror that was fixed to a wall close to the entrance door. It looked into the reflective surface, gazing at the fullness of its own body for the first time.

  And was disgusted by what it saw.

  The skin was sunken and greyed, lined with tears and cuts that showed the flesh beneath, and the eyes were milky white, but it was still a distinctly human appearance.