The Punished

by Peter Meredith

  With a quick swipe of his sleeve along his eyes, he gave up on bending the paperclip and began working it into the lock. Back and forth, up and down he sent his makeshift pick against the pins. With each attempt, he gave the U shaped piece a little tug to the right, but by the time Matt came alive, screaming in the greatest pain, Curt still hadn't made any headway.

  It sounded like Matt was being eaten alive.

  It was a horrifying to hear and soon Curt wept as he worked the pick back and forth. Something was wrong, or more likely he was doing something right. He tried to recall what he had done that first time, only the memory wasn't clear. Certainly, he had the U shape in right...

  Just then, he heard feet running up the stairs. With a terrified glance over his shoulder, he saw it was Amber.

  "Hurry! I don't think Matt will last much longer!" she screamed. "The house knows! It knows!"

  "What? What does it know?"

  "That we are trying to run away!" she wailed at him. Her face shone brightly with tears and he could feel his own coming even more freely now as well, dribbling off his chin.

  "Get back down there! Put stuff in front of the basement door!" he screamed at her and bent to his lock.

  With a deep breath, he tried his best to calm himself, and he was surprised that he felt suddenly a slight bit better. His hands however had not yet got the message and they shook as he brought them up to the lock.

  "The pins are old," he murmured to the lock. "As are the little springs beneath them. By now they want to be done with this fiddling." Curt put the pick and driver into the lock. The U shaped driver, he kept turned to the right, while the pick, he began to work back and forth, raking it over the pins in a sawing motion. "You are getting tired of this up and down. You just..."

  The lock turned.

  Just as when he had defeated Matt, for a second, he couldn't believe what he had done.

  But again, that was for only a second, and with a surge of strength he yanked open the door and charged up the stairs into the attic.

  He was halfway up, when the house realized where he was going and perhaps what he was up to, and then the lights went out. Curt stopped as fear and uncertainty held him. A second later, the door behind him slammed shut, enclosing his world in complete darkness.

  2

  Now absolute terror washed over him. He tried to panic and run, but his mind was in such a state that he didn't know quite where up or down was. So instead of running, he gripped the rails as if his life depended on it. At first, he could hear nothing except the pounding of his heart and his own ragged breathing, but gradually, he came to hear the faint cries of Matt.

  For some odd reason they at first calmed him a little, perhaps becuase they added context to his to the darkness and allowed him to orient on something but after only a few moments, these cries grew quieter and as they did, Curt felt his panic rising once again.

  "Hurry! I don't think Matt will last much longer!" Amber's words of a minute or two previous came back to him, as an echo in his mind. How much time had elapsed since Matt went into the basement? Four minutes? Five, six?

  There was really no way to know. But it sure wasn't very long.

  "You knew it would be quick," he said aloud. The words didn't seem to penetrate the darkness, it was as if they stopped just in front of his face, like there were a barrier right there. Prying one of his hands away from the railing, he gave the black air in front of him a tentative swipe.

  His hand swung through empty air. In relief, he let out a big breath and quickly his ability to reason re-asserted itself, quelling his panic. He had to move. Wearing an invisible grimace, he forced himself upwards, but ran out of stairs quickly and now it was only a matter of finding his way through a maze of junk in complete darkness. But Curt had an impressive mind, and recalled minute details of the layout of the attic.

  His left hand found the partially destroyed upright piano... now he felt the dresser that had no drawers, within half a minute, he discovered the beds of his two murder victims. His hand coming down unpleasantly on an arm or a leg, he snatched it back in an instant, feeling revulsion. Unfortunately, that little movement caused him to become disoriented in the dark and he couldn't recall which way it was that he faced. He had to put his hands out once more and in a second, he found the bed and the body part, again.

  "Uhhhg," he groaned aloud.

  Moving around the bed, toward where he hoped Miss Feanor's body lay he came aware that the house was once more, silent as the dead littering the attic. No longer could he hear even a sniffle coming from Matt, three floors below him and he suddenly realized that he was too late. The creature would be coming very soon.

  He hurried forward, his hands running along half remembered hunks of furniture and suddenly his right hand struck something. It wobbled slightly and he pulled back. Why he did this he had no idea, but it was at this moment, he decided to sniff the air. It wasn't that bad. Curt had half expected the attic to smell similar to the terrible stench coming from the basement, and that he would inhale the rotting smell of spoiled meat, but the air up there was more stale than anything else.

  Knowing that he was out of time, he knelt quickly and found the legs of Miss Feanor in the dark. They seemed much bigger under his touch than he had remembered, as if she had swelled. He tried and failed not to picture her face swollen huge and green, and for that second, he felt glad that it was pitch black in the attic. His hands traced their way up her legs until he found her pockets, but unfortunately, she lay face down and the keys weren't in either of her back pockets.

  He rolled her over.

  "Huuuuahh..."

  The noise came from the body and Curt jumped back in alarm, smashing his head against something hard behind him. The body was rotting from the inside out and the smell was bad, as well as, indescribable. It was atrocious and he had to fight a great nausea building in him just to crawl forward to get the keys. Holding his breath, his wildly shaking hands went first to one pocket and with a growing alarm, to the other, but the keys weren't in either. Panic threaten to overrun his mind and he fought back with a single idea, "Check again." Her pants were tight over her bloated thighs and he forced his small hands deeper into her pockets and was rewarded a moment later by the feel of metal, but it was a nightmare of a struggle to squirm his hand out again.

  As he pulled his hand free, the dead body spoke once more in its horrible ghastly language, "Ehhhhh..."

  Vomit came up this time, right to the top of his throat.

  "Oh God!" he groaned, desperately trying not to lose his dinner as he groped in the dark. With one hand covering his mouth, he staggered into the maze and just as he blundered against the roll top desk that marked which way he needed to go, pandemonium broke out down stairs.

  Layered screams of panic tore through the air, and then came a rumbling that at first confused him, until he realized, what he was hearing were the other children running for their lives.

  The creature was loose.

  It dawned on him then just how trapped he was up in the attic and with growing terror he made his way through the maze, but it was very slow going and Curt became lost over and over. One set of footsteps from below grew clearer and clearer as the seconds ticked away. They were particularly heavy and they raced steadily toward the attic.

  Curt tried to hurry, to make it to the stairs before the creature could, however he soon discovered that he was actually quite lost. The furniture now all felt the same and he was completely turned around and just then, he realized with certainty there was no way he would make it out of the attic alive. Without warning, he began to blubber. He was so afraid.

  A second later, there came an odd scrambling sound as if claws on wood and then the attic door burst open. Immediately light from the second floor hallway flowed up to greet Curt and in a flash, he saw exactly where he was. But it would do him little good since the creature was between him and the exit.

  Curt ducked down, sliding along the floor to a better positi
on, well to the right of the main part of the maze. He didn't know if the creature could see or hear or even smell, but it was instinctual for the little thief to hide and it was one thing that he was very good at. The creature came up the stairs and paused at the top and from where he crouched, Curt could see part of the grey of its shifting mass. It turned in his direction gliding around an old bed frame, and a lead ball of fear suddenly dropped into Curt's stomach.

  In this corner of the attic, there were few choices to move, but Curt decided not to move just yet. Instead, his hand closed upon a shard of wood, a small chunk that had broken away from some long forgotten piece of furniture. He threw it further into the attic, toward where the corpses lay and like a dog, the creature turned at the sound and in a heartbeat began racing in that direction. As soon as it did, Curt was off, keeping low, sliding along on his knees heading for the stairs, but just as he came up to them he stopped and shied back.

  The thing from the basement had come out and was now floating at the top of the stairs.

  3

  It was a horror far beyond that of the creature, yet in some ways, they resembled each other. It was nearly fully formed and Curt could see that it had that same blackened, scabbed over skin as the creature, but though it had far more of a body, it appeared as if it were still in the process of decaying. Even as he looked upon it, a great slough of skin and hair slid from its head, dropping to the floor with a sick wet splatter.

  But nothing could compare to its eyes. They were the eyes of a demon. There was simply no humanity left in them and they were black. Deep, deep black, as if they went on into its skull forever. Curt couldn't look into those eyes for more than a second before he turned away. Those eyes were unreal, and shook the foundation of his thinking so much that he literally ran his hands over the skin of his arms just to prove that he still existed.

  That was what this thing ultimately wanted, not only for him to die, but for him to cease to exist on a much more basic level. It wanted his soul.

  Behind him, Curt heard a sudden movement and he knew without having to turn that the creature was now alerted to his presence. And he was trapped. In front of him was the thing, the demon thing. And behind was the creature, which began running at him, twisting through the maze at a great speed.

  Somehow, perhaps as a way to save his soul, the thief in him took over. There was only one-way out and that was the stairs, and so that was the direction he would take, demon or no demon. In a flash, Curt charged at the thing, knowing that it would be slow to move, he had seen it before and each time it had moved almost leisurely. And this was no different.

  He saw an old chair near to the stairs and jumping on it in midstride he leapt to the side of the thing. Missing it by inches, he came down on the stairs awkwardly, fell, rolled down six or seven and then was up again, leaping the last few, heedless of any pain. The door to the second floor began to shut in front of him and instead of trying to force it open, he slid to his left, clearing it just as it closed.

  "Everyone! Run to the garage!" He screamed at the top of his lungs as he raced down the hallway toward the backstairs. Behind him, he heard again that weird clawing and he could picture the creature at the attic door trying to force its way out. Curt didn't look back.

  This was a good thing too or he would have run full into the mouse who stepped out of her room just ahead of him.

  "Come on! Run!" He grabbed her hand without breaking stride, dragging her along. In a second however, he wished that he could let her go, she pulled against him, slowing him down. But he couldn't let go, to do so would be the same as murder and unlike Matt, who was guilty as sin, she was innocent.

  However as they reached the stairs, she took matters into her own hand, literally. With a force he didn't know she had in her, she yanked her hand out of his, almost toppling them both. She turned and ran back, heading toward the great thumping footsteps of the creature charging down the hall.

  "Beth! Come back!" He called after her. But he didn't wait to see if she would, waiting was now a luxury that would cost him lives and pain. Instead, he spun about and jumped down the stairs like a gazelle, five at a time. When he gained the kitchen, the first thing he saw was Amber and Paul fighting against the door to the garage as if a large invisible man stood on the other side and was slowly closing it upon them.

  Curt took only a single step forward when a scream shredded the air behind him. Beth! He froze for a moment, not in indecision, but in guilt.

  "Hurry!" Paul grunted, his skinny arms quivering with the effort to hold the door open.

  Curt's head snapped back to the boy and without the need for further encouragement, he raced to the door, and threw himself against it, straining with all his might. It barely budged, and it was not until he got his legs under him and drove with his thighs that he was able to help push it open enough to get through.

  "Go, Amber," he cried out. She wasn't much help in keeping the door open, both of the bandages on her hands were soaked through with blood and her arms were shining bright red. She darted through the crack and ran for the car.

  Now Curt turned to yell to Paul, but his eyes caught a sight that held him. The basement door stood open and the light was on. It was a cheery warm white light and it cast a nostalgic glow upon the remains of Matt. From where Curt was, only a few feet from the basement door, he could look down the stairs and see Matt's body, littering the steps. Bitten through and dismembered, it was torn apart as if by pack of wild dogs.

  His blood, fresh and wet looking coated the walls of the basement. It ran down them in sheets and in rivers and also little trickles, an impossible amount of blood, or so it seemed to Curt. The walls that this fresh bright red blood dripped down were an awful brown/black. It was the color of old blood. There were layers and layer of this old coagulated blood, and Curt knew in his heart that the blood went deep into the wood, right to the core of the house.

  At the sight, his legs wobbled a moment and then gave out. He half fell, half slid into the garage.

  "Wait, what about Beth?" Paul gasped as the door closed upon him with relentless force.

  Picking himself up, Curt hurried to the driver's side door, yelling over his shoulder, "Leave her! She wouldn't come. I tried, but she ran." It was all the explanation he had time for.

  Jumping into the car, he noticed as if they were someone else's that his hands shook to the point they were almost beyond control. Taking the key to the car in both his hands, he fed it into the ignition, and with his foot heavy on the pedal, roared the engine to life.

  Paul was still at the door, and Curt noticed just then that the blonde boy bled from a large wound on one side of his face, it was gaping and torn looking but it didn't hold Curt's attention for a fraction of a second. But what did, was that Curt also noticed what a handsome brave looking boy Paul was. His awful tick had completely disappeared and what's more, for the first time, Paul's face was unblemished by the haunting of fear.

  Just that little thing caused Curt to lose a second, but it was worth it to him. To see Paul as he was truly meant to be, striking, perhaps even beautiful and courageous to the point of being heroic, was well worth the loss of that second.

  But Curt could lose no more.

  With shaking hands, he yanked the transmission into reverse and gunned the car backwards.

  "Oh God!" Amber screamed just before they struck the garage door. The door buckled and the two kids were thrown back and forth. Amber shrieked in pain, but Curtis barely heard, he looked around and could see that he had crumpled the door, but that it still held. He threw the car into drive, and it leapt forward out of his control, too late did his foot find the brake.

  They slammed into the wall, sending them banging hard into the front console. Amber cried out in misery again. There was no time for anything gentle now.

  "Forget her, Paul!" He screamed at the top of his lungs for Paul still struggled against the door. The blonde boy, gritting his teeth with effort shook his head resolutely.


  "Damn it!" Curt worked the transmission angrily, and sent the car flying backwards a second time. They crashed with what sounded like a great shriek of metal and the door bent well over, practically in half and Curt knew that it would take only one more good shot to bring it down.

  Not wanting to crash going forward again, Curt found the brake before he moved the transmission to drive and as an added precaution, he saw the little sun symbol on the dash and pulled the knob toward him.

  There in the sudden glare of the headlights, Curt saw that the creature had given up on whatever it was doing to the mouse and had come full into the garage and now it had a hold of Paul. Out of the grey mist of the thing, huge scabbed over arms, which ended with great-clawed fingers held Paul by the face and chest. Curt watched in horror as the creature pulled Paul's head back. A moment later, a tremendous mouth, lined with razor sharp teeth formed in the mist and before Curt could think, the creature sunk his teeth into the side of Paul's neck.

  "Paul!" Curt screamed in agony for his friend.

  At the sound, the creature tore its head up and an immense gout of blood shot up from the wound in Paul's neck. Somehow still alive, the boy staggered away from the creature, taking a few steps into the narrow garage and stopped directly between Curt's headlights.

  "No, no, no," next to him in the car, Amber wept.

  Now Curt was at an impasse. He couldn't go forward with Paul only eight or nine feet in front of him and he couldn't go back, the garage door was still too much of an obstacle. And he most definitely couldn't stay where he was. He felt trapped once again.

  But sadly, the creature helped Curt. Its bloodlust was too strong to be ignored and it jumped forward and latched itself once more to Paul, its long teeth tearing open the boy's shoulder. With one great twist of its newly formed neck it practically tore off the boy's arm.