They Feed

by Jason Parent

  Dakota spun around. “Don’t pretend it doesn’t mean anything to you, you sick fuck. Or didn’t you care enough to learn the name of my brother’s girlfriend before you carved her up?”

  She swiped her knife through the air, mimicking what she thought Tyler had done to Melanie. He jumped back, throwing his hands up in defense. Old grief overcame her, and her arms grew heavy. She turned her face away from him. She would never let Tyler see her cry.

  “Easy!” Tyler splashed backward, almost tripping over himself. “Your brother’s girlfriend?” His forehead folded like an accordion, his eyebrows shooting high and arching. “How should I know her? Look around you. Look at all these bones. You can’t really think that I did all of this?”

  Dakota wanted to blame him, especially for her brother and his three missing friends. After passing six years convinced of Tyler’s guilt, she wanted to cling to her beliefs despite the growing evidence to their contrary, evidence that shook the foundations of her world. Dakota was finding it harder and harder to deny that the cellar looked like some sort of lair, the bones left over from years of feasting. How could she fit Tyler into this puzzle?

  Her head started to spin. “I… I don’t know.” Nausea hit her like a punch to the gut. How could she blame Tyler for all of this when an inexplicable carnivore hunted them outside? Only a monster could have done this. Tyler had shot her brother, but nothing human, not even Tyler, could have done this. She looked around at all the bones, wrestling with her thoughts. Her temples pounded.

  Finally, the question she dreaded formed in her mind and could not be stopped. Could I have been wrong all this time?

  Her knees went weak. Dakota leaned over, placing her hands on her thighs for support. Her lunch threatened to expel itself, but after a few dry heaves, she began to collect herself. Tyler crooked his arm beneath hers to help her stand. She pushed him away.

  Her stubbornness gave her strength. She thrashed at the pile, knocking bones from it until other objects began to appear. Some jewelry, a jacket, a baseball cap—when she came upon the latter, she shrieked, certain it had been her brother’s. Tears welled behind her eyes. Still, she would not let them free.

  She picked up the cap and examined it then tucked it into her back pocket. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, unable to look Tyler in the eye as she handed him back the flashlight.

  “Okay, but first, I want to check out that hole. It could be a way out. If you want to head back up, I understand.”

  Dakota didn’t feel right about Tyler being nice to her. If she was wrong, if he hadn’t killed her brother… she couldn’t think about it. She already had enough wrongs to live with.

  “Maybe we should just leave it alone. This place is seriously creeping me out.”

  Too late. Tyler was already poking his light into the opening. “Wait. I think I see something.”

  “Nothing alive, I hope.”

  Tyler’s upper torso disappeared into the hole. “It’s a little tight for me.” His voice became muffled, vibrating into the room like a bass drum after a good whack. “I think it’s some kind of tunnel. I can see moonlight shining through the other end. If I were smaller, I might be able to squeeze through there and go get help.”

  “Get out of there,” Dakota whispered.

  She didn’t like that tunnel. Everything about it seemed wrong. Why weren’t the slug things crawling all over it? Maybe they had burrowed the damn thing in the first place. Her dad had told her old war tales about tunnels like that in Vietnam. He had seen the “rats” that went into them, always the smallest guys in the unit. Sometimes, different rats came out. Sometimes, no rats came out at all.

  And if there weren’t Viet Cong crawling in them, rats of the four-legged kind were there, ravenous vermin placed there by the enemy as biological weapons. Snakes and other nasty critters infested those tunnels, and they weren’t the worst of it. As her father had explained it, the tunnel rat went in with a rope tied around his ankle. He crawled on his elbows, with a flashlight and a pistol, deeper into darkness. If an attack came above, the rat was as good as lost, buried alive in a foreign shithole. Alone in suffocating darkness.

  Tyler broke in on her thoughts. “Maybe that kid upstairs can crawl in here and see where it goes.”

  “That’s a terrible idea.” Dakota had little time to consider it. Dull thudding came from upstairs. She ran to the ladder. “What’s going on?”

  “Those things are back.” Abigail sounded frantic. The noise above grew louder. “They’re pounding on the walls. I’m not sure how much longer they’ll hold. Any luck down there?”

  “We’ve found a possible way out, but only the kid is small enough to squeeze through it.”

  “Is it safe?”

  Tyler shrugged. “Who knows? Is anywhere? Do we have any other options?”

  Abigail disappeared. She returned a moment later and climbed down the ladder. Frosh followed, then Mark. The twins and Merwin stayed above, claiming to keep an eye on the door, but when Dakota looked up, she saw all three of their solemn faces staring down at her. Had they missed their chance to leave by the front door? Merwin’s face said as much.

  “You,” Tyler said, grabbing Frosh by the arm. “What’s your name again?”

  “It’s B—”

  “It’s Frosh,” Mark said, snapping. “You know the rules. You haven’t earned your name until I say you have.”

  Dakota rolled her eyes. “Really? This is hardly the time for your fraternity crap.”

  “It’s okay,” the kid smiled. “Frosh is fine.”

  “Guys? If I could have your attention…” Tyler frowned. The others quieted. “That’s better. Frosh, do you think you can crawl through there?” He pointed at the tunnel.

  Frosh walked over to the opening. He inspected every wall, ran his fingers along the bottom. “I suppose I could if I had to.”

  “You have to,” Mark said.

  “No one is making you do anything,” Dakota replied. The look she shot Mark and Tyler was enough to tell them to back off. Mark spat out a sound of derision.

  Tyler nodded. “You know what’s going on up there better than most of us. You got a look at those things. You know what they can do. I wouldn’t wish that fate on any one of you.”

  He leaned in closer to Frosh. “But it sounds like those things are preoccupied with the walls above. Hell, they’ll probably break through any minute now. You may be our best hope for survival. Worst-case scenario, you fail and you’re dead. If you don’t go, you’re dead anyway. We all are.”

  Frosh nodded. He seemed to be drinking the Kool-Aid, but he made no attempt to get into the opening.

  Tyler continued. “You get out there, and you run like the devil is on your heels. Never look back. Your life, our lives, may depend on it.” He cracked a smile. “No pressure.”

  Dakota shook her head. “How will he know how to get back? Even if he escapes this godforsaken place, even if he gets past those godforsaken worms, he may just end up lost in the woods. That won’t help anyone.”

  “I’ve got a pretty good sense of direction,” Frosh said, standing a little taller.

  Men—always trying to play the heroes. She looked at Frosh, then Tyler, then Mark. Not a brain among them.

  “It’s getting really dicey up here,” Merwin yelled. “The walls are shaking. If you fellas got any bright ideas, now’s the time to put them into action.”

  Unblinking, Frosh stared at the tunnel. Dakota could only imagine the terrible thoughts running through his head and what those small, brave men in her dad’s platoon must have thought. Don’t go in there, Dakota silently willed. Her gut told her that the tunnel was worse than anything going on above.

  “Like I said, no pressure.” Tyler tapped Frosh on the arm. “No one’s going to think any less of you if you stay right here. We’ll just have to hunker down and pray those things will pass us by.”

  “He has to do it,” Mark said, pushing his way between Tyler and Frosh. His lips were inches fro
m the boy’s ear, but Dakota heard him fine when he said, “If you do this, and you get out, get us out, you’re an Alpha Pi. Initiation over, just like that.”

  “Mark, you can take your whole damn fraternity and stick it up your ass for all I care.” Frosh stood toe-to-toe with the college senior. “When this is all over, I want nothing to do with you or your stupid group.”

  Mark looked stunned. He was speechless.

  Frosh turned to Dakota. “I’m going, but only because she might need help.” He nodded toward Abigail, who hung back by the ladder. “She’s worth more than all of you put together.”

  Abigail looked away. “Don’t go in there on my account,” she said softly.

  “I’ll be okay. The cabin faces the path leading toward the lake area. That’s where Abigail told me Merwin left his Jeep. It’s probably not working, but at least it’ll be sitting on the path that leads out. I’ll circle clear of the building, head toward the Jeep, drive it out if I can, or run like the wind to safety if I can’t. I’ll get help. I promise.”

  Dakota had to smile. She admired the little shit. His balls were bigger than the rest of him, and they were rock solid. She had no doubt he meant every word he said.

  But words were fragile sounds floating on a fickle breeze. Putting them into action required more than just bravery. With those blood-sucking sons of bitches directly above them, Frosh’s plan would require a great deal of luck.

  “Mark, give him your flashlight.” Tyler’s tone made clear he wasn’t asking.

  Mark snapped out of his stupor. “What? No way, man. Give him yours. It was his to begin with.”

  “This one is too big. He can hold yours in his mouth while he crawls.”

  Before Mark could utter another word of protest, Dakota snatched the flashlight out of his hand and gave it to Frosh. “There. That’s settled.”

  “Dakota,” Tyler said. “Grab the rope.”

  She felt her cheeks blush. You mean the rope I used to string you up earlier so that I could torture you? “Why?”

  “Please, just get it.”

  She nodded and fled toward the ladder. Halfway up, she asked someone to get her the rope. Luc responded. She wasn’t surprised he knew where to find what she needed, since it had been wrapped around his neck. She looped the rope around her arm and carried it to Tyler. Meekly, she handed it over.

  He said, “Okay, Frosh. I’m going to tie this around your ankle.”

  You can’t be serious. Dread smothered Dakota like a heavy blanket as she thought again of the horrors her father’s platoon had endured. Frosh was their tunnel rat.

  “You won’t be able to crawl backward, so if you see any sign of trouble, lie flat and point your toes toward us. We’ll pull you out.”

  Just like Dad’s stories…

  “The rope is only so long. After a certain point, you’ll be on your own.”

  Don’t go in there.

  Frosh didn’t seem keen on the idea, but he let Tyler make the knot. “Wish me luck,” he said, flashing a phony smile.

  “Don’t…” Dakota’s objection came too late. Frosh shoved the end of the flashlight in his mouth and crawled into the tunnel. He disappeared, off to face the darkness alone.

  She watched as the rope slid through Tyler’s hands in steady increments. Foot by foot, it slithered into the opening.

  “Do you see anything?” Tyler asked.

  “It’s lighter up ahead. I think I can get out… ugh, gross.” The tunnel amplified the sounds he made inside it. His words echoed into the chamber, and his breathing sounded like that of a woman in labor.

  “Everything okay?” Abigail called from above. Her voice trembled. The air, too, seemed to tremble, as if it were electrified or alive. Dakota could tell Abigail liked the boy. Her face was wrought with worry. After all she had been through and had already lost, this woman still worried for another rather than retreating into herself. It made Dakota feel ashamed.

  Other than the noise coming from Frosh, the tunnel was silent. Even the pounding above had stopped. It didn’t seem right. The silence filled Dakota with trepidation.

  “Something’s wrong. Get him out.”

  “I’m okay.” Frosh’s voice echoed into the cellar. “It’s squishier over here. The mud seeps through my fingers. I thought for a second it moved, but it was just my imag—oh, shit!”

  His flashlight went dark.

  “What?” Dakota sprinted to the tunnel entrance. Her hands instinctively wrapped around the rope. “What is it?”

  “I dropped the light in the mud. Oh—shit. Something just fell from the ceiling. It might be nothing.” A gurgling, slurping noise carried into the basement, followed by an earsplitting shriek, inhuman. Frosh screamed. “Pull me out! Pull me out!”

  Tyler didn’t hesitate. He yanked the rope hard. Dakota rushed over to help him. The rope stung her hands as she pulled.

  “Get back upstairs,” she shouted to Mark and Abigail. “Be ready to close the hatch as soon as we’re through it.”

  She knew, even in the throes of panic, that relying on Mark not to lock them all down in that cellar was as good as trusting a snake not to swallow a mouse. Worrying about that came second. She had to haul Frosh out.

  In three more pulls, Frosh came spilling out of the tunnel, sliding along its floor as if it were a waterslide. He was still screaming. Dakota tried to catch him, but when she saw what was on him, her hands instinctively recoiled. He plopped down hard into the shallow water, thrashing and kicking. A black mass clung to his shoulder blade. Several more shot from the opening like bullets. They disappeared in the water at her feet.

  She sprinted for the ladder. Abigail was gone, and Mark was halfway out. She bounded up the ladder, feeling the rotted wood bending beneath hand and foot as she charged up the rungs three at a time.

  When she reached the top, Merwin was waiting, holding the trap door open. Thank God for him. She dove into the room, spun on her belly and reached down the hatch to help anyone who had followed.

  An arm came out of the dark. She grabbed it and pulled. The sound of wood splintering came from below, and the weight of the body connected to the arm increased. She strained to hold on.

  The weight lessened. Tyler had found his footing. His head popped through the opening. Scrambling to her knees then rolling back onto her feet, Dakota heaved Tyler from the abysmal pit. When he was clear, she dove back to the doorway.

  Frosh’s head emerged.

  The mud slugs were all over him, coating him like the gunk on an expelled placenta. He wailed with all the agony of the dying.

  Dakota reached for him. She searched for a spot of flesh to grab. An urgency to save him seized her. She would do all she could for the boy, even if it damned her to his fate.

  The trap door crashed down. It cracked against Frosh’s skull. His neck bent unnaturally, and his screaming stopped. His grip on the ladder released. He fell into the darkness below and was gone.

  Dakota had barely been able to pull her arms back in time, the boy’s head having been the only thing preventing them from being crushed beneath the weight of the door. Mark’s foot had been its driving force. He stood on top of the door, holding it down as it thumped beneath him.

  “It was too late for him,” he said. More than a few accusatory eyes were upon him. He wasn’t wrong. Still, Dakota hated him for it.

  The horrid screeching she had heard come from the tunnel now sounded close. Its timbre, high-pitched and eerie, made her brain rattle in her skull. The sound came from somewhere inside the cabin.

  Oh God, they’re inside!

  Then she saw the creature. It fell from the back of Tyler’s shin. It didn’t appear as though it had sunk its teeth into him.

  Tyler stepped cautiously away. Everyone else kept their distance. The creature continued to shriek and pulsate, flopping around on the floor like a fish out of water. It rolled up like a pill bug as if trying to shield itself. The creature shrieked louder. Dakota covered her ears. The sound made her
ear drums vibrate and her nose feel wet. Was she bleeding?

  Still, she kept her eyes fixed on the creature. It flattened out, revealing its true size. A giant black leechlike animal almost a foot in length stretched like an elastic. It then rocketed from its spot on the floor and bounded from wall to wall. Everyone ducked and dove to stay clear of its erratic path, but it didn’t seem to be attacking. There was no rhyme or reason to its movements.

  Finally, it crashed against the wall beneath the table, where it rolled up into a ball and went silent.

  Abigail approached it. “I think I know what’s going on with this thing. We Irish suffer from a similar condition… sort of.” She flashed her penlight on the creature, and it instantly began to writhe and screech once more.

  She turned the light off and it stopped. “Just as I thought.”

  “It’s photosensitive?” Merwin asked.

  “Say what, now?” Bo scratched his head.

  Abigail nodded. “It’s allergic to light.”

  Chapter 16

  “I doubt it’s actually allergic. I mean, I suppose it could be.” Both terrified and amazed, Abigail stared at the creature. The way it moved, solid yet flowing like water, mesmerized her. Every so often, it would raise an end as if it had a nose with which to sample the air. What was it trying to detect? Was it trying to smell her?

  Except the creature didn’t have a nose. It didn’t have eyes, either. It did have a mouth and spines and circular tentacles, pinkish slithering appendages for attaching itself to prey and sucking it dry. As these creatures had done with her husband.

  “I bet it just really hates it.” She snarled as she clicked on the flashlight, wanting to make the beast squirm. The creature hissed and retreated flat against the wall, trying to escape the light. If Abigail could have harnessed the power of the sun, she’d have fried the little fucker and its friends outside. She would have burned down the whole damn forest to kill them all.

  “You know what they say about dogs backed into corners,” Dakota said, gently covering Abigail’s hands with hers. “Maybe we should let this sleeping dog lie.”