by Shaun Meeks
“So in other words, this really gets us nowhere?” he says, and there’s a clear sound of defeat and anger in his voice. “More of the same.”
“It’s more than we had, Detective. At least we know this is part of the same case, and not some other random sort of abduction. And knowing something about the symbol is better than knowing nothing at all.”
“Yeah, that makes me feel so much better,” he says, and the sarcasm in his voice isn’t lost on me.
“Detective Garcia?” a voice calls out from the direction of the house. We turn and there’s the female uniform cop walking towards us. “The K-9 unit’s here. Should we bring the dog straight back here?”
“Sure, then we’ll go around to the other side of this fence and track the bastard.”
She walks away to go grab the officer with the dog and now I’m a bit worried. If we all go as a group and we’re are able to track this demon down, what then? We can’t very well turn and say that their help is no longer needed and send them on their way. These people are the police and they have protocols when it comes to these things. Even bringing me along might raise some eyebrows; if not now then later if things perhaps go sideways. Yet, I don’t know what else to do. A dog is the best way we have to track the thing down. It’ll be easier for an animal trained to pick up and follow the demon and the child’s scent than any other choice currently on the table. The only other way to do it would be for me to do my best Native Tracker impersonation as I follow the bits of slime this thing leaves behind in hopes of locating it. And since I don’t have any skills hunting that way, best to use the dog.
I tell Garcia about my concerns and he agrees that it’s a lose-lose situation, but as there’s a child hanging in the balance, he chooses the side of do it now, deal with the consequences later. I think it’s all we can do at this point.
After the dog and his handler are brought out back to sniff around, we head out of the yard in hopes of finding the missing child and the demon. The dog is leading the way, followed by the K-9 officer, Daniels, and the two uniform officers I already met—sort of—Jen Platanov and Jon Tham. The five of us move along, the dog clearly has a scent and is pulling forward. I don’t really know the area, so I have no idea where it’s leading, but I have this feeling in my stomach and a tickle in a small part of my head that we’re running headlong into something we should take more time with. These other three police officers have no idea what they could potential face, if we can find the demon at all. Who knows what they’ll do, how they’ll react when they come face to face with it. To be honest, I’m not even sure just how Garcia will handle it. Sure, he saw the Quilly back in Father Ted’s room, but that’ll be small potatoes compared to the monster we could find. Then again, I don’t even really know what one of these damn things will look like. I’ve never actually seen a Golgotha before. Maybe I should’ve watched that movie Rouge had told me about.
Time will tell.
But that’s not the only thing I think I’m worried about. There’s still the fact that what Godfrey said could be true, that I could face some serious problems by killing this thing and/or the person who summoned it. I don’t want to think that way, but I’m sure that’s part of what’s making me want to hesitate a little more than normal.
“I think the trail’s leading us to the creek,” Daniels calls out, and then tells the dog what a good girl she is.
The creek? I guess that makes sense. If the thing is a Golgotha and made up of shit and piss, the creek would be the perfect place for it. Seeing as it’s less of a body of water and more of a sewer runoff, where else would a fecal matter monster feel at home?
“Should we call this in?” Jen asks, and Garcia immediately shakes his head.
“No time to waste, Platanov. Who knows where this sicko will be or what he does to these kids. I don’t want to take any chances. We move and we move fast. The only thing that matters is bringing this scumbag down and getting the child back in one piece.”
Again, I don’t really know police procedures, but I’m thinking what Detective Garcia’s doing violates more than one of them. Yet they don’t stop or question him. Whether it’s the right thing to do by the rules or not, it must be the right thing to do for themselves, their consciences, and the child. That’s a feeling I can relate to. Sometimes, you just have to say to hell with the rules and do what you have to do. Do the right thing trumps following the rules any day of the week in my book.
We continue on.
We move from the side streets and go off the beaten path and through a thicket of woods. I’m guessing this is part of High Park now. I want to stop right then and there, sure that we are going to see a bug or eight million, and to be honest, I really hate insects.
Yes, I’m a monster and demon hunter. I’ve seen death and horrors the likes that would turn most people green, or at the very least give them nightmares for months. That doesn’t stop me from hating those creepy, crawly, mindless and disgusting little things. Just the thought of some beetle or spider crawling on me is almost enough for me to turn and run like a coward, but I know I can’t. There’s no time to be selfish, not with the child missing, and yet there are going to be worms and ants and all kinds of wrong all over the place.
Some days it sucks to be me.
So I keep going, we all do. I can smell the rank sewage water even though I can’t see it yet. The air is thick with the foulness of waste and for a moment I think of some of the vile beasts I’ve fought over the years. A few of them have smelled this bad with their bodies made up of rotted things and human waste. I try not to open my mouth, not wanting to taste the way the tiny particles of smell hang in the air. All things we smell are particulate. That means whenever you smell a fart, you’re actually breathing in microscopic bits of poo. Not a pleasant thought; even less so when I smell what’s in the air around here.
The dog turns sharply to the left and after a few minutes of pushing through the woods, happy that no bugs are crawling on me, we get to the slow moving creek water. It’s not very deep, but it’s as murky as anything I’ve ever seen before. It also looks a lot like the slime from the crime scene.
The dog is panting, barks here and there as we move south along the shallow bank on the edge of the water. I look around at people jogging, walking their dogs and sitting on benches and see shocked looks on their faces. I’m sure they’re wondering what’s going on, but now I’m starting to wonder how a giant poop demon could get past them without the same stares. The dog is clearly following the scent of the Golgotha. If that’s true then this would have to be the way the monster came, yet it’s so out in the open, so close to a very well-traveled path. Someone must’ve seen it or else we’re following a dead end.
I’m starting to feel less hopeful.
That is until we stop and the dog begins to bark wildly and pull towards a very dark tunnel that is spewing out all sorts of filth. It’s part of the sewer system, one of the run off pipes. A rusted shopping cart sits in front of its five-foot high mouth and there is no part of me that wants to go inside. The smell wafting out of there is horrendous. My stomach clenches just standing there.
“Any of you have a flashlight?” Garcia asks, and moves towards the opening. All three officers in uniform pull small LED flashlights from their duty belts and hold them out.
“Are we going in there?” I ask, although to be honest I don’t want anything close to the truth here. I’d prefer Garcia turn to me and say of course not, but I know that’s not going to happen. Some days I feel as though if it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.
“This is where the de…sicko took her,” he says, no doubt catching himself before he can say the word demon. “We need to get in there and find her as fast as we can if we have any hope of saving her. Unless you have a better idea?”
A shake my head.
“Who is this guy anyway, Detective?” Jen asks, and to be honest,
I’m surprised it took this long for someone to wise up. Here’s some guy standing there in jeans, a t-shirt and hoodie, and their boss is asking me advice. It must be weird for them. Luckily Detective Garcia explains it flawlessly, speaking the lie as easily as if it were the truth, and from the looks on their faces, they’ve bought it. That or they just don’t want to argue with him. “Well, maybe it would be better if he stayed out here. No point taking someone in that’s not armed or trained for this.”
Garcia’s eyes make a strange move, almost as though the idea of going in there without me scares him, but there’s no way that’s what it is. What’s he got to be scared of? Anything he has on him, like a gun, would be more effective than any of the weapons I have at home or the Tincher that’s tucked into my belt. My weapons and tools are made to go up against creatures and beings not of this world. Sure my blade could kill something of flesh and blood, but what about something made up of poop and piss? I don’t think my cursed and spellbound blade would have any luck at all. So in a way, I feel like going in with him would be useless. Not to mention I’m betting dollars to donuts that the tunnels is loaded with rats and cockroaches.
More damn bugs! The day just keeps getting better and better.
“No, he’s coming too. Give him a flashlight and he can walk with me. Daniels, you and Kodo go in first.”
The K-9 officer nods and turns his light on and walks slowly towards the mouth of the tunnel. I can see the man and the dog feel the same way as I do about this. Bugs, the dark and small spaces are not the makings of a nice Saturday afternoon in the park. The fact that we’re going after a demon born from human waste who steals children is just the fecal icing on an already rotten cake.
“Dillon, you come with me. Platanov and Tham, you take the rear.”
This can’t be a good thing. This can’t be a good thing. No, this can’t be a good thing.
That becomes my mantra as we step into the circular mouth of the tunnel and follow Daniels and his dog to my very own kind of Hell. As soon as I take a second step in, icy water finds its way up and over the top of my shoes and I’m sloshing through the neighbourhood’s memories of meals past. I can smell the water going into my shoe and know that as soon as I get home, these are going down the chute. They’re garbage. There’s a lesson in this; I need to start buying waterproof boots similar to what these uniformed officers are wearing. Since I never know what I’m going to be stepping in, it’ll save me time and the urges to puke my guts up on jobs like this.
Sounds echo around us as we go. I’m trying not to notice the cries of rodents or the way the walls of the tunnels seem to be moving. Garcia’s close to me and I can tell I’m not the only one stressed out. His breathing is as rapid as mine. I don’t know if he’s as squiked out by bugs as I am, but something is getting to him.
“Damn there’s a lot of fucking roaches down here,” Jen says from behind me. I want to say Hey, thanks Captain Obvious, but I hold back so that a scream doesn’t come out of my mouth instead. I never said I was a tough guy.
“That one looks like it’s the size of a bird.” Tham all but chuckles, as if there’s something funny about a huge ass bug. Well, there’s not. Nothing funny about something like that at all. I make sure not to look over at the one he’s talking about, but in my attempt to avoid it, my eyes fall right on the one he must be talking about it. I really want to get out of here.
“Are you seeing this?” Detective Garcia whispers beside me, and I shake my head.
“I don’t want to see it,” I whisper back. “I don’t like bugs. Not at all. In fact, I’m doing everything I can not to turn tail and run the fuck out of here, Detective. So, nope, I see nothing at all.”
“Not the bugs, Dillon,” he says, and grabs my hand that’s holding the flash light and moves it up the side of the walls. “Look there.”
I see it right away and it’s weird. The strange symbol that’s been at the crime scenes, the one we found on the fence just a little while ago, is on the walls of the tunnel. It appears every fifteen feet or so. What makes it strange is the fact that where each of those markings are, in every single spot, there isn’t a bug near it. I watch as a swarm of them run towards one of the symbols, but four or five inches before they get there, all the bugs swerve and change direction. The same thing happens again and again. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the bugs were afraid of it.
But why?
I guess it’s something I’ll want to find out afterwards, if I can for my own sake. Not that I plan on ever dealing with anything similar to this again, but I do like learning new things whenever I can.
This gets me thinking of Godfrey and I wonder if things will ever be the same between us again. For a long while we were on shaky ground. He’s ripped me off in the past; given me weapons he promised would work only to nearly get me killed when I try to use them. He claims ignorance on his part, always has, and I let it go as that, but I’ve never been totally sure. Since I let that be water under the bridge, I can only hope he’ll feel the same way after this is all over. Assuming we’re not both in some serious shit.
Well, I’m already in that. Literally.
“You still there?” Garcia asks, and I’m pretty sure I missed something he said.
“What?”
“I asked if you have any idea why the roaches are avoiding the writing. Can they sense something wrong with it or is it written in something they’re somehow afraid of?”
“I really don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “This whole thing is a little out of my normal area of expertise. I told you that. This thing, these symbols are all from this world. I don’t really make it a case of studying up on monsters that are allowed to live here. At this point, your guess is as good as mine.”
I shoot a glance behind me, just in case the two officers back there heard me say the M word, but neither are really paying attention to us. And no wonder. They’re looking down at the water at our feet and when I do the same, shining the light downwards, I see a river of waste and bloated bodies of rats floating along the surface looking like hairy, dead schooners.
“That’s just great,” I mutter, and try not to notice any of them bumping into my ankles. I hadn’t before then, but now that I’ve seen their bodies, there’s no way I can’t not notice. Can this day get any worse?
“Detective?” Daniels calls out from up ahead, and all I can think is I thought that way too soon and things are about to show me how worse they can get.
I move up to where the K-9 officer is standing along with Garcia. I have no idea what it could be, but I’m hoping for the best at this point. Something has got to make the day get better. To think I could be relaxing at Rouge’s house, sitting in the backyard and enjoying the beautiful day instead of hanging out in a sewer with cops, hunting a demon I have no right hunting.
Once we get to him, I see his concern. Ahead of him is a break in the sewers. It’s like a crossroads. There is a large center area with a ceiling height of about fifteen feet and at least five other tunnels to choose from. The dog seems as confused as we do, sniffing the air in front of each, but unable to choose the way to go.
“Any ideas?” Garcia asks me, and all I can do is huff.
“How would I know?”
The dog is whining now. I don’t know if he’s afraid of what’s ahead or perhaps saddened by his own confusion at what to do now. The dog’s been trained to follow his nose, a canine version of Toucan Sam, but now he’s stuck. That’s when my brain finally kicks in a little and I come up with an idea.
“The symbol,” I whisper to Garcia. “If one of the tunnels has it, then it will be the way to go. Maybe it acts like a path for the demon to follow, like a guide for the thing. It’s worth a shot, right?”
Garcia nods and it does make sense to me. If the symbol is being put on areas where kids are to be taken, perhaps being used like a beacon to call the demon, then it would make
sense that a path of them may be created to lead the creature to the goal. It doesn’t fully fly with me though. Unless each symbol is done slightly different than the final one left where the kids were taken from, how would the demon know when to stop following and when to grab. If we find one in the tunnel ahead, I will check out for any variations before we go, instead of checking those behind us. There has to be something different in them though, a way to lead the monster or why else have them all through the sewer to begin with? What would the purpose be to it if not to guide the beast?
Garcia motions me over and as I walk across the highest part of the crossroads, I hear something to my left.
Oh damn!
There’s a growl. A low rumble that’s building up and as I turn to see what it is, I hear the dog barking and whining seconds before it runs past me. Daniels is calling out to it after the animal tears his leash from his handler’s hand, but the dog is the smart one here. Something’s coming, and I think we all should run. It sounds big.
“What the hell is that sound?” Tham asks, but maybe he shouldn’t have.
As the words leave his lips, something huge and dark reaches out from the tunnel behind him and pulls him backwards into the shadows. He lets out a small scream, but the sound is cut off as his head smacks off the top of the tunnel’s mouth with a wet whack. I see his head slump forward as though he’s already knocked out, and then he’s gone.
“What the fuck was that?” Platanov asks Garcia, as I pull my Tincher out from my belt, tossing Garcia’s camera to the side.
“I don’t know,” the detective tells her, and all the cops now have their guns drawn. The flashlight beams pointed at the tunnel Tham was sucked into are shaky and the sound of everyone’s breathing has become laboured with fear. Mine is no different. Things had escalated pretty quickly.
“Something grabbed him. No way a person could do that,” she tells him, as though we all don’t already know the same thing. “What the fuck was it? Did anyone see what took him?”