Grayland: Chapter Three of the Dark Chicago Series

by David Ghilardi

  All of the human work needed while Gray had slept to remodel its image, trying to sell the estate offf to newer clients, basic upkeep had not come to fruition. Lawyers were stonewalled, both here and abroad. It never changed, thought Gray. All humans were corrupt.

  In the end, it had been decided by the Race Family Trust. Race Mansion was to be kept in the family’s possession ad infiinitum. Stipulations were iron clad regarding land and building contracts preventing any outside interested party in purchasing the land or environs from powerful interests. The rules that protected Gray had been in efffect for the past 100 years. No one and no thing was to touch the mansion while it stood.

  All the city of Chicago could do would demand upgrades to the exterior infrastructure. New gas piping, electrical wire, inspections once a year, regular maintenance which was adhered to by loyal barristers. That’s how Gray reminded himself of Janusz’s loyalty. His entire family were protectors of the iniquitous side of Smythe.

  Gray dropped away from Janusz. He pushed offf the brick walls of the basement.

  He’d be damned if he were to go out on his knees.

  “You did well. This is what I require of you. Listen closely.”

  The black spider spun his fiinal web around the willing ears of the damaged Janusz.

  Chapter 38

  Douglas followed the wheezing of the fiigure waddling ahead of him in the dark hallway. Emergency lights flickered on and offf rapidly signaling their own distress call before succumbing to the absence of light. He’d forgotten whether it was late evening or early morning. Time was drunk, confused by lack of light, vertiginous with the whirly twirlies. The fiire alarm that had been their constant muzak for the past hour died along with the lights.

  Louie was a good fiifty feet ahead of Doug. The young soldier found himself dragging his battered body holding the walls for support. Where were they going? Last thing Doug needed was a night marathon with no fiinish line. He was wracked.

  Coming around the corner, his legs spilled out from under him. Vision got blurry. Not much gas left in his tank. Doug felt like a broken accordion, his body squeezing out pain with every breath.

  “Hey man, I got ya.” Louie grabbed Doug under his arms, lif ting him up. The big man’s ample curves allowed a comfortable carry. Doug laid into his fat for respite.

  Both men entered a white room with muscle machines. Pulleys and racks of free weights threw shadows against bright walls. Light spilled in from yellow street lamps outside. Flakes danced in the ambient light giving the room a disco-ball efffect. Horizontal waves of snow driven by relentless wind illumined by IED bulbs outside.

  Doug nodded, sliding o fff Louie onto a black rubber mat below. He was handed a water bottle which he drained. His head felt clearer. Shadows held other huddled forms. Doug could barely make out who they were.

  Louie whispered, “Yeah. I gathered most of these jokers while that murderous terrorist was eating some old guys on the 4th floor. Couldn’t save them all. Man, that son-a-bitch moves fast. Saved who I could.”

  Murmurs from old men came from scared shadows along the wall. Doug was handed an open bag of peanuts. He crunched them into slurry. “Can you help us?” The tremulous voice arose from a nearby elliptical machine. Doug found it easier to focus now. They were all locked in the exercise room at the Y. Somehow a small squad of elderly men had managed to escape the dark man’s maw.

  Louie bent over avoiding being in the lights from outside. Doug saw a worried bald head keeping watch on the street.

  “If this guy can’t, maybe that one can.” Floated the voice of an old man.

  Louie crab walked avoiding being seen from the window. He poked his head behind the curtain venturing a look.

  “I don’t think that one will, Matt. Stay down now. Hey, pally.”

  Doug grasped onto a stairmaster pulling himself up. Louie motioned to him.

  “Know this freak” It took a moment for Doug to fiind a crack in the drawn curtains to avoid being seen. The white beyond blinded him for a minute, its brightness making him wince. Irving Park Road was stark and empty, undulating rivers of snow flowing East. It took a moment to adjust to the view, but then he saw the moving fiigure.

  A tall man strolling in a storm, Janusz was a pallid aristocrat out for an idle stroll. The gusts bufffeted the creature, yet he kept his composure.

  “The sword guy,” muttered Doug. He had forgotten about him. Janusz stopped. Doug closed the curtains. Outside, Janusz scanned the street, opening his arms as if beckoning someone to join him. Doug thought it was like a gladiator summoning his foe.

  “This freak, he dangerous?” asked Louie.

  Doug stared at Janusz’s stretched arms.

  Chapter 39

  Janusz waited in the middle of Irving Park Road. He was half dressed with white flesh poking through what clothing remained. Rents in the material flapped in the intense polar wind gusts. Snow had stopped falling hours ago. But there was plenty to blow around ten to twenty feet deep everywhere. Visibility remained limited.

  Douglas paused on the YMCA steps swept clean of all powder. The white man on the street before him had attacked him with a sword less than a day ago. A damn sword! Now, his hands looked empty, standing there in the wide street. The relentless gusts failed to move him. Mother Nature tried her best to wipe away evil blots, but it did no good.

  Louie waited nearby between the glass doors of the YMCA. Janusz continued to scan the street sensing Doug was out there somewhere. He fiinally completed his turn coming face to face with Doug.

  Both men stared at each other. Doug was exhausted. His efffort with Gray had taken everything out of him. What would it be to take this guy down? He wondered. Did he have anything left in the tank to take him out? His body throbbed, one big sore muscle. Could he handle another hand to hand skirmish?

  “Is that one of them? Needs a damn sun tan!” The fat man opined.

  Louie produced a revolver from the deep pockets of his overalls. He vaguely smelled of feces.

  Doug nodded, responding to the voice behind him. “Go back inside. I got this.”

  Louie snorted.

  “Right. Well, pally, bend down so’s I can get in a decent shot.”

  Fat Lou waddled to Doug’s right shoulder raising his weapon. Janusz’s eyes followed the movement.

  “You sure he’s one of them?” Doug nodded.

  “Hell. Look at this guy. His clothes are near offf. K, let’s do this.” Louie red at the thin damaged creature. Every bullet fiired found a home, causing damage as flesh impacted, more clothing blasted away. Janusz swayed with the concussive forces as impacts told on his frame. Half of Janusz’s skull was crushed, his right arm dangled by a few putrid strands of sinew. Still his face registered intelligence, recognizing something to be true in his reality.

  The gun clicked on empty chambers. Louie shook his head.

  “Don’t this shit ever end? How do you fiinish these guys?” Doug breathed out. His hands gripped the axe handle shaking offf a few gobs of gore left on its blade. The brief moments Louie had given him, helped him to breathe. It was up to Doug. He began to walk down the steps. On the street, the pale creature turned his head towards the left as if hearing a calling. Doug paused.

  “Where’s he going?” Janusz staggered into the gusty winds heading east up Irving Park Road. Whiteout conditions nearly knocked Douglas offf his feet as he reached the bottom of the steps. How was the ruined man standing much less moving steadily into the storm? How was it possible? Why call to Doug, then leave when he arrived?

  He watched the damaged pale man disappear into the roaring freight train of a night. Ice pellets sliced into Doug’s eyes blinding him.

  “Hey tough-guy, let’s get you outta this, huh?”

  Lou’s wide body fiirmly gripped Douglas, beginning to pull him back up the steps. Where did the pale thing go?

  “Come on, guy. You’re about to fall over. Let’s get inside for a spell.” Doug sluggishly moved back inside the YMCA. Lo
u set him down in the main lobby. Lights were blinking offf and on, along with a smoke alarm beeping in the distance on another floor.

  The power was back on again. Doug was fading away. Sitting, on cold tile,it felt like vacation in the Bahamas to him. He closed his eyes. Sleep was instantaneous.

  His world was black swirling ink. Cutouts of familiar fiigures fell past him. Doug was being pursued by snakes, harpies with icy wings, other creatures desperate to tear into his mind. He ran in every direction desperate to escape their grasp.

  A rough hand around his neck brought him back to consciousness. He began to lift the axe still in his hands willing to decapitate whatever hateful being was trying to kill him now. The blade was inches away from the smelly thing, only its huge paws were diverting his trajectory.

  “Whoa! It’s me, pally! Beginning to become a habit.” Doug held the blade inches from the larger man’s carotid. Louie was sweating, aghast at how close he got to being cut.

  “The blanket slipped. Was only trying to tuck it in. Nothing fruity, I swear.”

  “Sorry.” Doug whispered.

  “Some grip ya got there, kid. Should play for the Cubs. We could always use another great bat at Wrigley.”

  Doug smiled. Axe Cop meets Axe Bat.

  “How long was I down?”

  “Dunno. 80, maybe 90 minutes. You don’t snore but man, your nightmares must be doozies!”

  Lou had chips, fruit drinks, even a banana in his hands clasped to his chest. While Doug was out, the fat man had gathered provisions. They both ripped open bags and devoured everything in front of them. Their appetites were akin to creatures that pursued them, the irony not lost on Doug. Probably how they feed, like a ravenous animal, he mused.

  Wind blew with gale force mere feet away from them. Only two sets of locked glass doors separated the worlds.

  “Think this will ever end?” Louie snorted.

  “Not before more people die.” Doug answered.

  Louie fretted.

  “Naw. I meant the storm. Never seen a blizzard like this before.” Doug frowned. What would he fiind if he checked the Illinois Farmer’s Almanac? He had a hunch he would fiind that the last great blizzard occurred over a century ago. Not ’67, ’78 or 2000. No, back when Gray had walked his era as a landowner in Olde Irving Park.

  Both men looked at the endless trials of white etched in skies muted of light. Most of the lamps were out now. The devastation of Olde Irving Park was near complete.

  “So.” asked the fat man in the uneasy silence. “What next?” The lobby sat quiet as the question sat heavily with them. Doug stared in wonder at Nature’s violence so close. It seemed as if Pandora’s box had already been yanked open, all the horrid monsters released from captivity allowed to roam free in the world. Heaven was angry. Chicago, it seemed was destined to absorb all the madness Gaea could mete out. How could any of them really hope to delay the inevitable? How could any of them stop what Gray was doing?

  “Don’t know.” Doug said.

  Louie tapped him with a fiist on his shoulder. Not hard, but it did get his attention

  “This is Chicago. We ain’t quitters. Shit, boy, ain’t you a Cubs fan?” Doug looked at this man who he saved only a day before. He had soiled his pants, as he had been the only survivor in the restaurant attack. Erna, a female associate for the Gray man, had killed everyone else but him. In some way, Lou was the luckiest guy he knew.

  Sipping the rest of his fruit drink, Doug looked into Louie’s eyes. A germ of a plan presented itself but Doug had to admit, it was probably a last ditch efffort. End of the road. “What weapons do we got?”

  Lou pointed at the hatchet. “Other than that, not much. How much damage you thinkin’? You know, I used to box at Portage Park, pretty good with my mitts.”

  He shadow boxed for a few seconds.

  “Formidable skill set. But we need something bigger than fiists.”

  “How big?” Lou inquired. Doug slowly raised himself from the cold tiles. His body protested the movement from such Edenesque solace. His vision swam less though. The cold helped steady him. His sight cleared after a few seconds. His heart rate slowed. Doug knew he had pushed himself too hard for too long, had done so for days now. If he was honest with himself, he knew he was spent. No hyperbole. He was alone now. No matter if he gutted through the night, Doug wouldn’t make it through.

  He knew the Gray had survived. At least, some part of that piece of crap did. He knew that was who had summoned Janusz. He fiigured the mansion was across the street, no more than 800 meters away. Doug decided. Go big or go home.

  “We need to bring the whole damn mansion down. Expose their nest. Then if we get lucky, I’ll kill them before they get away. Got anything powerful enough to do that?”

  Louie had his paw in the last Chip bag. Doug smelled the salt and salsa on Lou’s breath. Doug leaned between glass doors to get fresh air. Louie licked his fiingers as he considered.

  “Nothing in my truck. Too far anyway. But I got a notion. Wild hare up my ass, actually. I ever tell you I used to work for the Chicago Streets and San’?”

  Doug smiled.

  “Nope. What are you thinking?” “I learned a few things. Chicago’s got a few secrets up her sleeve yet. Hope I still ‘member how to do it. You a fast learner, kid?”

  Doug raised the axe towards Louie. They both chuckled. Lou told him about the wild notional hare up his ass.

  Chapter 40

  There was no sign of Janusz. Douglas and Louie bent into the wind, aware their nemesis could be hiding anywhere around them. It was easier going back to the fiirehouse. Louie had explained what buildings lay across Irving Park Road. Both angled towards the Korean Church. Doug held the axe in his right hand scanning his sixes. Louie had reloaded the .32, carrying it in his left.

  Louie had spilled his guts to Doug, listing o fff all his skills. The fat man liked to eat and learn. They sketched out a plan of attack. First stop was the Korean Church. Louie had keys since he worked part time as their custodian. Doug was uneasy for the entire 200 yards. The swordsman could be anywhere.

  Rickety-sca fffolding revealed itself as they reached the doors. The church was undergoing renovations. Louie unlocked the doors. Doug nodded, shaking the man’s hand. The fat man lumbered offf as he stated earlier, “to fiind a shitload of greasy, unhealthy, comfort food.” The structure had been locked up tight years before. Louie said he knew the old custodian, as they were both White Sox fans on the Cubbie side of town. The hard-working Joes had become fast friends. Louie had a set of extra keys.

  Doug turned back into the storm covered up by ice pellets. He gritted teeth against the maelstrom. At least we got a plan now, he thought. He put his head down jogging towards the fiire house. The wind tried to flay Doug alive. Everything above his knees throbbed. His temples beat like a drum. He gulped down ice from the sky. His throat was sore as well.

  Once he got to the fiire house, he would get some more help from Mavis. Doug continued on a diagonal path. He tried catching sight of the buried tow truck stalled to his left. He had marked it in his mind as a touchstone to fiinding his way back. Visibility had fallen to about twenty feet. Eyes straining, it appeared the truck was gone.

  Doug stopped in his tracks. He felt how powerful the winds were as they punched, his muscles rippling with the waves. He wiped his eyes clearing them, just before Janusz appeared running towards him. Janusz clothes-lined Doug offf his feet. The aristocrat’s deformed head held together somehow keeping his white hair from flying offf his scalp.

  Janusz leapt onto Douglas’ back. Both men rolled thrashing in the snow. The axe fell out of Doug’s grasp. Janusz was nothing but snapping teeth and vengeance. Doug landed punches, kicking the fiiend in his jaw. It was only wearing the soldier down.

  The pale creature could barely open his mouth yet kept clacking his fangs. Doug moved his head back from the yawning incisors trying to clamp down on his limbs. Janusz tore into Doug’s jacket, moving past his shoulder, rippin
g into the backpack hanging there. Sharp ivories shredded through coarse fabric releasing weapons into the hungry wind which snatched them up like a greedy Scrooge.

  Seeing stars, Doug felt the handle. He jerked the hatchet up. The blade bit Janusz on his neck. The axe hung embedded in the creature. Janusz threw startled hands to the wound. Doug used the moment, scrambling to his feet. He sprinted for the fiire house.

  Enraged, the whit creature ripped out the weapon. He bent it like a swizzle stick. Janusz threw it at Doug. The metal and wood Frisbee whistled thru the air. Doug threw himself to the ground avoiding impact by inches. It clanged dully bouncing offf the brick wall.

  Douglas was no more than ten feet from the concrete lip of the fiirehouse. He could see the open area. No more than fiive feet away, Janusz clutched Doug’s fluttering backpack. Whirling the soldier around, Janusz smacked his forehead against Doug’s. The younger man blacked out for a moment, one eye fiilling with blood. He was being dragged along the gravel.

  Janusz threw Douglas like a skittle ball rolling eastward up Irving Park Road.

  His body hit every frozen nub, every icy bump as it slid into the wind. Doug was numb. His head pounded like some bratty misfiit was running around in every corner looking for a way out. He knew he couldn’t take much more exertion.

  He lay back then. This was what defeat felt like, he thought. Appearing slowly out of the mist, Janusz limped side to side. He was barely standing but still he was doing better than Douglas. The young soldier couldn’t even lift his limbs. Youthful energy, his constant companion who had been hanging around him for days abandoned him. The ground throbbed along with his muscles.

  Janusz drew back what remained of his lips with a lopsided grin. Half of his teeth were gone. The ones remaining were broken and jagged. Fangs protruded from his face. Janusz was messed up.