The entire room was bathed in blood splatters, the wall seeming to drip and undulate with it. Everything had decomposed until the sharp tang of rotten flesh was all you could smell. The noise had been small bones. Again, some looked animal and some looked distinctly human. Swallowing, she attempted to stem the rising flow of panic. She'd been scared before. Now? She wasn't sure if she could keep up the mirage she'd created... that she'd escape somehow, and everything would end up being okay.
This was a lair. Padding from the mattresses upstairs had been torn out and shredded before being pushed into a pile in the corner. The makeshift den had been built over sticks and leaves from outside. Deep gouges were dug into the surrounding walls. They couldn't be human. But what else could they even be? There weren't even any indigenous predators here.
Cougars maybe, but even then, they'd be further south. There'd never been bears here, hell, not even big deer or something that could have racked antlers against the wall. At this point she was reaching for some kind of logical explanation, and more perturbed when she couldn't find one. She didn't believe in monsters and fairy tales. The things that went bump in the night were flesh and blood just like her, even if they were psychopathic insane killers.
Yet, standing in the middle of this room where something had clearly denned down like an animal, she couldn't help the shiver of apprehension that stole down her spine. Some primal fear that kept the hair on her neck standing up, goosebumps on her flesh. You were always told that every story had some kernel of truth in it. So why were there so many tales of monsters and demons, things that no one could explain? What was the kernel and what was the legend?
Nothing about this made any kind of sense. The man who had kidnapped her was a monster, sure, but one of the human variety. She refused to let her brain psych herself up and think anything else. She couldn't afford to. Her first and only priority was to get out of here still breathing.
Her perusal of the room had wasted too much time. She heard a noise from behind and realized it was the door she'd barricaded slamming open against the cinder block wall. How'd he even get through that? Quickly scanning her options, she hurriedly climbed behind stacked laundry bags. The pile was in disarray, so he might not notice that they were a little out of place. It was closer to the hall too, so when he passed here and went further, she could backtrack and maybe make it to ground level.
As she plotted, she swore she could feel a slight breeze on her skin, making her shiver. She was underground, at least mostly, and the windows were near the ceiling. There wouldn't be a draft down here. As she thought it, she shifted to move closer to the door when she realized there really was airflow. Eyes wide, she started tugging the bags out of place, searching for the source of it.
A grate. Unbidden, a view of the place as it had looked when she'd first entered the clearing swam through her vision. They'd been dilapidated and torn apart, but there had been air conditioners. Commercial air conditioners for a place as huge as this had vents and ductwork. Hopes soaring, she shifted a few bags to hide her position as she used the small blade to pry the grate from the wall. Lifting herself into the vent, she pulled the bags back where they'd been before carefully sliding the grate back into place, sealing herself in.
The air was stale and stank of mildew, but it was far better than where she'd just been. Keeping the blade in her teeth, she tucked the flashlight through her belt loops to keep it safely secured across her stomach where it wouldn't bang on anything, and would be cushioned somewhat by her clothing. Then, she climbed.
Chapter Seven
Every upward inch was agony. She tried to temper her hope and fear with rational thought, but it wasn't working well. All she could think of was escaping outside while he was still searching for her in here. The incline was gentle, but she could feel it sloping to the first floor. Breathing hard, she carefully felt her way over the metal, holding her breath with each small creak. She froze in indecision every time, listening intently until she was certain there was no movement around her.
Her nose itched from the dust, but she forced herself to ignore it to keep her attention off of the urge to sneeze. The skittering noises seemed to echo in this small space, but she acknowledged that it was likely the mice that had taken up residence in the place. The other options, the woman or the man, were far less appealing.
In what was really not that long but felt like hours, she found herself at a branching section. Biting her lip, she debated. She wasn't taking the ones that looked like they kept going upwards. This one went down and two others went down. Of the three left, two should lead to the separate wings. One should lead to the main duct that entered the bank of units outside.
She'd made far too many stupid decisions since she woke up on that rusted bed underground. Each seemed to have gotten her further from her goal of safety. Beginning to move forward, she paused, apprehensively glancing to the other ducts. She couldn't afford another mistake, and so she froze in hesitation, unable to move at all. Seeing movement, she turned her head quickly, quickly covering her in-drawn breath of fear.
Another woman, a pale vision of what she'd once been. This one was bent at an impossible angle, ebony eyes sunken further into her face than the one before. Her mouth was grotesque and stretched in what looked like a permanent scream, red lines stretching from the corners of her lips where her cheeks had split from the strain. Little wonder why... she could see the stark edges of the skin flayed from her chest against the pale translucent skin even this far back.
Like the one in the cold room, the bruising covered her from shoulder to stomach, the Y shape of the cuts the same. It took her a moment to realize this was the girl from the first room. Dark veins covered her face where they'd burst. From screaming or stress, she couldn't be sure. Either way, this woman and the one downstairs had both suffered before dying. Even death couldn't take the stain from them. Their misery was evident in the beyond. And now, she was in the same position they were in.
Closing her eyes to block out the sight, she repeated to herself that this wasn't real. Over and over again, she muttered the mantra silently, until she felt like she could breathe again. Opening her eyes, she realized the woman had moved a second before she jerked backwards to escape the woman's bleeding fingers as they swiped at her.
She began to crawl away in an attempt to find another duct before she thought of the flash in front of the man when she'd been trapped in the lab. Cocking her head, she stared at the woman, who had retreated to the end of the left side duct. Were these women trying to help her? If she were in her right mind, she'd never entertain such a thought. Still, she couldn't say she hadn't lost all brain cells she had, diverting all energy towards survival.
Cautiously, she moved towards her. The woman's shape wavered before disappearing. Did that mean she'd done what she was supposed to? Was she leading her out of this maze or deeper into it? Pushing aside the worries for the moment, she focused all of her attention on sliding one knee forward at a time, bracing her weight on her hands once she'd checked that the metal didn't squeak.
There. She saw light. Sunlight! She'd made it through the night. Almost weeping in relief, she picked up her pace, quickly getting to the outside grate where the filter caught allergens from the outside. Using the blade again, she pried it from its frame, only to realize the frame was rusted in. Undeterred, she twisted to get herself feet first, using all her strength to kick at it until it sprang open. She didn't even care about the noise. She'd escaped!
Dragging herself out on her hands and knees, she glanced around as she stood, spotting the gravel service entrance towards the back. It must be where the patrol cars came from, so it had to lead to a road. Hurrying that way, she screamed, picking up her pace as she heard the snapping snarls coming from somewhere behind her. In all the fresh terror of the night, she'd forgotten the dogs.
A detail like that could have meant the difference between life or death. Thighs burning from exertion and pain, she began to pray. She wasn't much o
f a religious sort, but at this point she had nothing else to lose, and everything to gain. Her head start didn't last long. The dogs gained on her quickly, reaching her before her toes had even touched the gravel.
She sensed the displacement in the air before the immense weight hitting her registered, sending her sprawling face first onto the ground. Tears sprang to her eyes in reaction, the skin on her knees and palms abraded by the rough rock underneath her. Her gaze fastened on something black in the distance, a turnoff that was paved with asphalt. The road. So close, and yet it seemed further away and more unattainable than touching the sun itself.
The dogs backed off as she curled into a protective position, head tucked low. If she'd have known what they were waiting for, she might have thrown herself to their merciless jaws to escape. Hindsight and all. Rough hands gripped her, dragging her upward. It was the man from the laboratory, only in daylight, his features were just... wrong. Trembling in terror, she fought, kicking and scratching at her captor. She felt blood on her fingertips, but it only urged her further on.
Her brain had finally caught up with her emotions, and she wholeheartedly believed now that he wasn't human. He couldn't be. He looked like some sort of genetic chimera, part human and part animal. Just the quick glance she got showed an elongated face, with pinched nostrils and deeply sunken cheeks. A fine layer of hair covered what skin she could see, and his lips appeared too small to fit over his jaws, leaving pointed yellow canines exposed. His skin was an ashy gray, and he stunk... badly. He smelled like the lab animals they sometimes had to use at university when they'd been sitting out too long and were starting to decompose.
He grunted, a disturbingly animalistic sound, tightening his hold on her. As she twisted to attempt to break free, he lifted her clear off of her feet. She wasn't what people would term "petite", so the action stunned her for a few precious moments. By the time she got her equilibrium and senses back to begin struggling in earnest again, his huge palm had wrapped around her throat, tightening in slow increments until spots swam before her eyes.
Her hands clutched at his wrist, trying to pull him away and get even a single breath in. She attempted to hold on to consciousness, but eventually her vision dimmed as darkness took her under, caught in the creature's iron grasp.
Chapter Eight
Excruciating pain dragged her from the deafening silence of unconsciousness she'd been placidly floating in. As she went to scream, she realized a leather tie was around her head and cinched across her mouth, muffling the panicked noises. Trying to jerk away from whatever was causing so much pain didn't help in the slightest, her wrists and ankles were secured as well. What had happened? She'd been so close to freedom.
She remembered it. She'd seen a road. Somewhere. And then... eyes widening in fear, she glanced up to see her captor, licking something red from his fingers. In that moment, clarity hit. She was on a metal table. The autopsy tables in the basement she'd barely noticed as she'd run. Hot tears began to fill her eyes as she recalled the body... the bruising from the cuts that had clearly been made while the female was alive and aware.
Her breathing turned harsh and ragged as she forced herself to meet his gaze. His eyes had changed... earlier, they'd been such a pale gray in the sunlight that she'd have assumed they were white, but they'd had an eerie red ring around the iris. Now, with her blood coating his lips, his eyes nearly matched the ruby tone, the red ring eclipsing the iris until his eyes glowed with an unnatural, otherworldly light.
Her nails dug into the palms of her hands as she bit back another shriek when an elongated nail caked with something that looked like a deep green moss from the riverbeds traced up her chest. In its wake, she could feel her skin splitting. She felt the way the edges immediately retracted, leaving raw nerves exposed. This time, the noise she made was somewhere between a sob and a cry, as blood began slowly pooling under her back, soaking the ripped fabric of her shirt that had been unceremoniously shoved to dangle at her sides.
It was quite possibly the worst pain she'd felt in her life, she didn't even have anything in her memory to compare it to. Wracking sobs shook her, causing more bolts of sensation to rip through her. It was everything she could do to hang on to the last vestiges of sanity she had. She felt his nails digging into her flesh, saw him bringing some unidentifiable part of her to his mouth again, a humming noise of pleasure leaving him as he chewed. Gagging as she realized it was a slice from a muscle either from her chest or abdomen, she pulled harder at the bindings keeping her trapped.
This wasn't happening to her. She wouldn't let it, she wasn't going to die here like those other women. She had a life, she had friends and family that needed her, that would miss her if she disappeared without a trace. She wasn't a victim or a statistic, a byline in an obituary. At the very least, she wasn't going to die tied down like a sicko's all you can eat buffet meal. If she wasn't going to make it, then she'd damn well finish on her own two feet, even if that was the very last thing she was able to do.
He smiled at her then, seeming amused at her futile struggles. The disturbing fangs protruded past his lips before she felt his fingers tighten, clenching around what had to be the very edge of her heart between her ribs with just the serrated edges of his grotesque nails. She could feel each breath shuddering through her, the pressure and panic almost indescribable. For the second time in so many hours, black spots danced through her vision.
She tried to hold on, as she knew nothing good could come of losing consciousness right at this moment, but she was only human and it was a battle she was bound to lose. Try as she might, she couldn't focus as breathing became harder, feeling as if she couldn't get enough air into her lungs.
The vision of him standing before her wavered as tears filled her eyes. The last thing she saw was the ethereal glow behind him, the women she'd soon be joining. If she'd have managed to fight the rising darkness just a bit longer, she might have heard the noise of a door slamming up above. She may have spotted the beast's head cock to the side, listening intently to something in the distance.
If she hadn't been solidly in her own shattered psyche, she'd have been aware when he turned, heading towards the hallway, bootsteps echoing as he tore up the stairs in pursuit of whoever had dared to enter his domain. The anger in his eyes was nearly palpable, promising death to whoever disturbed him.
As the sounds faded, a small click could be heard, just a tiny noise in the large room. The metal buckles that had kept the leather tight around her wrists and ankles were slowly being loosened by unseen, yet determined hands working to save one of their own.
Chapter Nine
The coppery taste of blood lingered on her tongue, the unfamiliar taste making her swallow convulsively to get rid of it. As she gradually became aware of her surroundings again, the past few hours came back to her in a rush, making her quickly head towards hyperventilation. The impulse was overwhelming and stopped only because the harsh breathing hurt her more.
As she tried to gingerly shift, she realized her limbs weren't strapped down any longer. Eyes widening, she hesitated, slowly lifting her head to scan the empty room. No one was in here with her. Not the ghosts, and not the beast. If she stayed here, she'd be dead the next time he came into this room, of that she was certain.
The memory of the bodies laying in black garbage bags in the corner of the cold room rose unbidden in her mind. After having seen him feeding on her, she now was able to visualize perfectly the strange furrows that had been on the arm that had peeked from one of them. They'd been bite marks. She and the women... they were food.
Tiny fragments of legends she'd heard when she was younger stayed just outside of recollection, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd heard of something like this before. Her aptitude for her studies and verified facts may have caused her to push it aside as inconsequential, but the strange feeling of knowing what was happening persisted.
Some long buried instinct rose to the forefront of her mind, making her gently sl
ide herself from the table. She knew she couldn't stay here, waiting for him to come back. Gripping the sharp edge as her knees buckled, she counted to ten in her head, willing her body to work with her. Catching a glimpse of the wounds on her chest, she couldn't help herself, stretching out a trembling finger to trace the edge of one of the incisions. Some sort of clear, sticky mucous coated it, tiny green flecks interspersed in the gel.
The moss, maybe? Was it a coagulant? She vividly remembered his nails being coated in it. It's the only thing she could think to explain it, since she should have bled out. As it was, the marks were a vivid reminder that she was in a perilous situation. Pain or no pain, she had one last chance to get out of this nightmare, and she was going to take it.
Clutching the cool table, she slowly convinced her shaking legs to hold her weight. Each step was agony, her chest feeling as if hot pokers were stabbing her repeatedly with every movement. Still, she pressed on. She didn't know where he'd be coming from, so the steps weren't a feasible option. While she'd used the ducts before, he hadn't been around when she'd come through the frame, so perhaps he didn't see how she'd gotten there. It was a chance, and she grabbed onto the hope with both hands.
Kira Malone Chronicles: Vol 1 (Slaughter USA) Page 3