by Ben Archer
Or blink.
Or breathe.
My hands can’t decide what to do either. One is balled into a tight fist, while the other is reaching for the nearest exit. They’re completely split on my upcoming fight or flight decision. That is until our standoff comes to a very abrupt, and unexpected end when my (apparently not well) anchored foot slips one of the loose piles of coins. It sends me tumbling towards the very last place I want to go ─toward the girl. We end up as close as two lovers preparing to kiss. So close I can taste the leftover apple skins on her breath.
Somehow, none of this causes the statue-like girl to budge. If this display of grace didn’t move her, then nothing will. I decide to throw caution to the wind by practically dragging the mute kid out into the light. At first it’s by the ankle, then wrist. I’m practically carrying the petite girl in my arms by the time she makes it all the way out.
Her eyes have the familiar blank stare off into nothingness. She doesn’t appear to be nearly as young as the girl who brought me here. If I had to guess, she looks to be in the awkward age right before full adulthood. Most likely around seventeen or so, but with soft features that make her seem younger than she is. The real giveaway is her hands. They have the rough pads of a person who’s had to work to survive.
Everything about her is a simple kind of charming. While her outfit is nothing fancy, just a humble beige dress, she makes it seem far more elegant than it really is. One thing’s for sure, she wasn’t taken in her sleep like the last girl. Her outfit is far too proper to have been something she was simply lying around the house in. It has the appearance of a formal uniform without any of the identifying badges. It also offers zero clues as to where she might have come from.
I brush the loose strands of blonde hair away from her face. They barely reach the tips of her shoulders and have recently been done up in the soft curls of a special occasion. Although she’s dusty and dirt covered, there’s not a single claw mark on her! It appears, against all odds, she’s totally unharmed! Her unbelievable condition leads me to believe she did not arrive here via wing or talon. So how then?
In any case, one mystery does get solved. Drifting up from a shirt pocket is the same sweet fragrance that led me here. Stashed away is a small batch of candied blueberries that have been neatly squirreled away for a later time. I remove one to lightly dab on the tip of my tongue. Its sugary skin is a welcome distraction from the oozing disgust of literally everything else in here.
“Hey! Can you hear me?” Whispering in a low voice, “Are you in there?” Snapping fingers are followed by a swift slap across the cheek. The only results are long red smears across her face and a massive guilt trip for doing so. A growing sense of urgency raises my voice to a muted yell, "Hey! Seriously kid, it’s time to wake up!" She remains a breathing statue.
She might not have been the one that brought me here, but nothing will keep her from leaving with me today. After all, something good come has to come from this. My heart begins hammering out a new kind of anxiety. This one is from the reserved optimism that’s rapidly spreading no matter how much I try to contain it. That hope, combined with nerves fraying faster than a thread on fire, begins a new chain of rushed events.
I swallow the last of the sweet berries whole. It’s a shame not to be able to enjoy the candied treats, except I can’t spare the precious seconds it would take to chew them. Next comes the unenviable job of grabbing another pile of disgusting goo to cover every inch of her soft skin. The foul mixture has a texture somewhere between warm yogurt and decaying vegetables as it glides on.
The final step is throwing her over my shoulder like a rotten sack of potatoes. This results in one very unpleasant “smoosh”ing sound, as all my sensory organs die at once. I thought you were supposed to go “nose blind” to smells after a while? Well, that definitely hasn’t happened.
I start stepping lightly, but swiftly, over the river of gold to avoid another clumsy slip. By the time we make it back to the dark hallway, it’s even worse than I remember. My eyes begin trying to fill the deep emptiness with the memory of all the vibrant colors they saw locked inside the treasure room. The light ghosts keep me moving in all the wrong directions. Every step seems to lead into a hidden wall or other unseen object. It gets even worse when the hall opens back up again. I stop running into things and get so completely lost that I end up heading back towards the gold river again.
After course correcting for the fourth time, I eventually find myself in the tight squeeze leading back to the front room. She has to be cradled like a child to squeeze us both down the narrow hallway. I seem to find EVERY stray rock while attempting to fold myself into increasingly difficult shapes. My first priority has to be keeping her vulnerable face away from the jagged rocks. The best way to do that is to lead with my shoulders. Several potential scars later, the full body origami ends, and the exit is in sight!
…or, more accurately, isn’t.
Even though freedom is right around the corner, it might as well be a thousand miles away. A raging storm has devoured what little sunlight we ever had. It also took away any hopes we ever had of making it of here out alive. The once empty cave floor is now filled with giants sifting through the scraps.
I stagger back into the shadows to finish my not-so-mild panic attack. Uggggghhhhhhhh… think… THINK… THINK!!!! Leaning against the wall is the only way to keep my numb legs upright at this point. It feels as if the entire lower half of my body has abruptly gone missing.
So what now?
Outrun them over a ground of shifting bones? No
Retreat back to the treasure chamber? No
Fight my way through? HELL NO
There’s no world in which any of that works. I don’t stand a chance by myself, let alone protecting an unconscious girl.
DAMN! DAMN!! DAMN!!! SHIT BALLS!!!!
Descending further into the cave will only lead to starvation or being eaten. I’ve barely seen what’s prowling around back there, and we can't simply stumble around hoping to fall out of a hole.
Unless?
No…
Well, maybe???
In theory, a merge would allow me to know this cave as well as they do. I could swallow enough memories to navigate us to some secret exit or unknown tunnel. Sure, I might lose my mind from having to experience several lifetimes of unspeakable horrors at once. That could certainly be an issue. Plus it’s not like I’ll get to pick and choose which Eutherian memories to take. I’ll get all of them. Do I really want that becoming a part of me?
Yes.
Yes, because it’s the only chance we have. I’ve got plenty of bad rolling around in there already, so what’s a little more? Every drop of blood that’s passed these lips has left a scar. People, animals, all of them are a part of me now. Of course that’s lead to some pretty bad merges before. Some of them have even screwed me up for an extended amount of time. It can be as small as picking up a bad habit, or completely life-altering on a foundational level. You don’t just get memories, you get beliefs, values, and emotions as well. Sometimes it’s a struggle to keep from becoming a totally different person. But compared to becoming bat food? Well, it’s time to quit debating and just deal with the consequences later.
So how do I actually make that merge happen?
The first thing is to free up my hands. All that requires is planting the girl in the darkest place I can find. So dark that it might be tough finding her again. Next is to locate one single bat away from the group. Far enough that a little noise isn’t going to bother anyone. My eyes won’t be able to help with any of this. All they see is patchy blackness and a bunch of shifting shadows. Certainly nothing worth risking a blind jump.
I creep slowly along the edge to listen to the rustling herd. Even sealed in their wings, they leak all kinds of disgusting noises. Trying to focus on one turns out to be impossible because they’re absolutely EVERYWHERE! Every direction is the sound of scratching rough skin, crunching bones, high pitch squeals, fla
pping wings, cracking jaws, tearing meat… Aaaaaagggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
I CAN’T DO THIS!!!!!! I’m in a field of crickets trying pick out a single one! My monster demands to fight through the giant herd of devils. He insists the exit isn’t too far for him—of course his plan doesn’t include the girl. She’ll be fed to the bats as a diversion. No, I need to stay smart. Wait and be patient. Realize that I’m not looking for a sound in the crowd, but for sound in the silence. I need to find a place without any noise at all. My mind begins by constructing an imaginary grid over the blank ceiling. Instead of tackling the whole thing at once, I’ll work through the smaller sections one by one. This will help break the problem into pieces that are much, much less overwhelming. At first the boxes click off slowly. Five becomes ten, ten becomes twenty, after twenty-two, each one raises my pulse a little higher. I have to pause at thirty-three when the sound of my heartbeat gets louder than the bats.
One. Two. Three. ...relax and exhale.
Eventually, all the way in box fifty-five, is the sweet sound of nothing I had been desperately searching for. I pause to wait for the most important part before getting my hopes too high.
2. 3. 4. 5.
Damn.
6. 7. 8. 9. 10.
DAMN!
The lump seals my throat closed to any air that might want to visit.
11. 12. 13…
Then, on lucky number thirteen, comes a single stream of labored breathing.
It’s my single cricket.
I let another minute pass before declaring total victory. When no other sounds pop up on either side, I decide it probably won’t get much better than this! I want to take advantage before the winds of chance can shift again. Which is good, because my monster was already steadying for the jump.
He shuts off the entire world except for the sound of isolated breathing above. His focus is so intense that I can hear the hairs vibrating on the bat’s upper lip, feel the tips of his jagged claws dragging against his course leathery skin, even taste the meaty remains spilling from the corner of his bloody mouth.
A quick flick of the ankles sends me straight up toward the hanging devil. Midway through the jump, I flip over so my feet should land on the ceiling next to him. Although the extreme lack of light makes it impossible to tell how well I’ve actually accomplished this goal. While it doesn’t have to be perfect, the closer it is, the quicker the kill should be. I start franticly reaching out as soon as my feet touch the stone ceiling. Call it luck, or maybe fate, but waiting at the end of my fingertips is a thick batch of bristly hair.
HELL YEAH!!!!
It takes unbelievable willpower not to release my bottled-up enthusiasm. Since shouting would certainly lead to a super quick death, I decide to direct all that energy into holding onto the leathery sack of skin for dear life. My priority has to be finding his mouth. He can’t be allowed to make a single squeak, let alone one of those damn banshee wails.
I’m going to go ahead and assume the hole my thumb slid into is his mouth. Actually, since several rows of jagged fangs are currently biting into it, I know it is. The resulting pain releases a muffled cry that shouldn’t alert the others, but signals the need to work much quicker.
One arm clamps around the jaw to keep it quiet. The other rips through the thin wing membrane. Both hands sink into the rotten flesh far enough to grab the slimy bones and organs inside. Unsurprisingly, the big brute begins bucking like a wild bronco to fling me off. When I dig in deeper to keep hold, he fights back and my fingers have to sink in further. So far he’s still attached to the ceiling, I just don’t know for how much longer.
I have to go ahead and bite down on whatever’s in front of me. Of course when the teeth slide in, his feet release. The countdown to finish the merge has officially begun.
His curdled blood triggers a tidal wave of unrelenting emotions that absolutely rip through me. First comes the anger; feelings so penetrating that they attempt to paint over me with his rampant fury. Then the memories flood in and shit really hits the fan.
The year is 1734. His well-to-do childhood begins in a proper London borough. Burnt coal from the nearby train yard is permanently rooted in the fibers of his wool jacket. In spite of a privileged life, he suffers from a debilitating speech impediment that separates him from the rest of the boys. This one small difference will make him a perpetual outsider and mold the rest of his isolated life.
In a flash, the smooth sensation of plush velvet envelops me. It tickles my toes and shortens my breath. I lay in a luxurious maroon room scarcely lit by the oil of a dying lamp. My naked body is spread out over an indulgent bed in a secret brothel. Crawling up to me is a seductively exotic woman with dark black lips. She’s bound by a tight corset that draws her waist into a perfect hourglass. Her wanting eyes boldly declare their wicked intentions.
My muscles quiver at the sight of the raven haired beauty. Every piece of me longs to be captured by this dangerous beauty. When her strong, supple lips lock onto mine, they set my body on fire. Her delicate fingers slowly trace my inner thigh and hurl me into uncontrollable fits of pure ecstasy. My ruffled shirt buttons unexpectedly sail away from her forceful tug. I’m enveloped by the sweet smell of lavender and jasmine as she pulls me into her heaving chest.
Before I lose complete control, she shoves me back down into the cavernous pillows. Her strong hands are applying a firm constriction to my throat. She lures me further into her world of seduction with a fingernail gently tracing my wanting lips. Carefully hidden behind her sly smile is the reason I’m here...Waiting impatiently is the sharp point of an extended fang. It will surely bring the power I crave.
I’ve sought out this stunning woman because she has the power to transform men into Gods. I’ll never again be the scrawny man with a broken tongue. The delightful pain of her bite launches me into a brand new memory. This one is at the base of a golden tree. Leaves are drifting along a cool autumn breeze.
Then another.
And another.
My feet now teeter along the edge of a precariously sharp cliff. Off in the far distance is a menacing storm that’s as purple as an October plum. Every few seconds, electricity lights it up like a beating heart. It hangs menacingly over a sprawling town made of glass. Above it all is a burning red sky.
The memories are starting to fly by without rhyme or reason like papers scattered on the wind. Time is jumping randomly across a lifetime that spanned hundreds of years. Some of the most vivid are recent ones from his life in the cave. And yes, hunting after a wounded elk is just as disgusting as you would imagine. The images of fresh kills have my monster salivating enthusiastically. I’m used to his voice in my head, but now there’s an unwelcomed third ─the devil bat. Between it and the gluttonous monster, there’s hardly any room left for Hayden Flynn.
I come out of my head long enough to see us hurtling toward the ground in the real world. Not that it matters much; I’m totally powerless to do anything about it. My mind seems to have come completely detached from my physical body.
The internal power struggle only allows me to aimlessly drift from one memory to another. This time landing in a calm summer day with a lumpy pile of soggy dirt. My hands are sloppy, but the girl across from me is absolutely covered from head to toe. Her messy mop of hair is pinned up top like a spiky pineapple. She’s shoving a cracked plastic shovel in my face insisting I fix it. Her glassy eyes warn me of the sad consequences if I can’t.
Wait, I remember this day! That mud-covered girl is Dru!
My brain can’t control the mammoth excess of information being dumped into it! The walls separating my life from his are rapidly coming apart! I’m “remembering” far too many new memories at once! Since only the deepest, harshest emotions stay with you, those are the scars I experience. Several lifetimes of love, pain, and tragedy are condensed into a single wave that sweeps me up, and washes me away.
Chapter 7: Bat Out of Hell
Loose flaps of leathery wings are
plastered to the side of my face when I finally come to. They’re the direct result of a plan gone tragically wrong. It’s safe to say the idea to merge and run has gone laughably bad. Well, it would be funny if I weren’t now trapped underneath a prickly sack of warm jelly that hasn’t bathed in a hundred years. Oh, and the awful memories are still clicking by like old films.
There’s no way of knowing exactly how long I was out. Probably not long, but long enough to have gained a small crowd. I can hear the other bats stumbling around the body lying on top of me. They’re poking at the fleshy meat sack as if it were an overflowing piñata. At least they don't seem to know about me ─yet.
The ruthless memories make it hard to concentrate on anything other than endless blood and guts. No matter how disgusting I believed Eutherians were before, experiencing their intense pleasure while hollowing out the carcass of a dead animal takes it to a whole new level.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!! My thigh burns from an errant talon sinking in right above the knee. It releases a sharp scream that ―if they weren’t onto me before― obviously lets them in on the secret. The thumping claws begin picking up both their speed and brutal force. It also appears my shelter is quickly disappearing now. The sound of crunching bones and ripping flesh ignites a panic like no other. The only thing I’m certain of anymore is my desperate need to escape Meat Mountain.
But then what? I’ll be balls deep in a horde of cannibal monsters! On a slightly positive/relevant note: the merge did allow me to know several other ways of getting out of here. Although, actually reaching them might be the hard part.
Another claw tugs at my right shoulder. It’s not close enough to cut, just provide the needed motivation to begin the trip back to the tunnels. They’re not very far, and it might be possible to bottleneck the bats in the entrance. It’s more a really bad idea than actual plan, but it's all I've got.