by David Irons
As it slowly stepped forward into the light with a grey-skinned foot, Jennifer gasped as she recognized its face.
CHAPTER 37
Its face… her face.
There, spearheading this abomination of the female form, framed with matted brunette curls, was the glowing-eyed face of the dead girl's mother.
Kristi Montague had achieved the one thing in her death she was never able to in life: her big entrance. And no one in her profession had ever performed one quite like this.
Here she was now, not fighting the decay of age anymore, not fighting the carbs, the saturated fats, and the preservatives of bad foods that would turn her body against her. This transformation had solidified her body into the perfectly formed, sultry, angel of death. The best and last part she ever would play again.
Moving closer she trod on Kelly's leather satchel, its contents strewn everywhere; treading on the book she had taunted her daughter with, her aged copy of The Grey Fairy. The girl wouldn't need the book anymore, as her mom had now become the titular character, her daughter's very own grey fairy: her very own angel of death.
Sneering, her teeth now vicious fangs, she bent over to stare at Jennifer, who reeled backwards as she came face to face with her.
'Where is my daughter?' it growled, as the yellow beams that were once big brown eyes enflamed.
Kristi looked down at Jennifer's wounded leg, hissing slightly at the fresh blood, a new desire stirring inside her, making her forget her objective. Jennifer nodded past the mutated woman to the pool, where the hissing grimacing face of Blitzer — the wannabe Beelzebub — stared on at its true, newly crowned queen.
Kristi turned around, the breeze from her wings brushing over Jennifer as she hissed back at the Blitzer serpent, casting her gaze to the pool and the small body surrounded by red water.
She knew who it was. Her heightened sense of smell knew that the body was her own young. Her confident evil stare dropped to one of sadness. Regret washed over her, coldness entered her body and the fire in her eyes lessened, as she understood that her daughter was dead.
'I knew I would have that little whore in the end,' Blitzer slithered out. 'She tastes so much better than her mother.' His mouth rose at both sides with a literal crocodile grin.
Kristi let out a loud roar, her mouth extending to a vast and scary proportion almost as wide as the hellish tunnel she was cocooned near.
'You killed her! You fucking killed her!' she screamed, stomping forward, arms stretched out, poised with those sharp black talons.
Blitzer's long tail spun up from the floor like a small-scale tornado. Whipping around her waist and plunging in for the kill with his Jack-in-a-box head, fangs dripping with translucent goo.
She slashed at his face, catching his temple with her right claw, snagging its skin open with a needle nail. Then, lunging in, she tore his nearest eye from its socket with her teeth, taking the surrounding flesh in the process.
Ripping at his face, she tore his humanlike features to red and yellow dripping ribbons; his grip around her waist loosened as she screamed with a banshee like wail.
'I'm the Queen! I'm the star! I'm number one! Nobody upstages me! Nobody!'
The snake thing tried to recoil back into the darkness, back to the tranquil moonlit pool. But the creature's now transformed ex-wife — a person who gave no peace to anybody including himself in life — was raising an unstoppable hellish fury in her death.
She moved forward, taking the creature by its neck, pushing it backwards, trying to snap its spine. Blitzer's branch-like arms swung around, their hands reaching, mauling her, tearing at her skin with their own dagger claws.
Jennifer watched on at the two former lovers, now looking like the end of a Godzilla movie crossed with Kramer Vs. Kramer. Kristi the actress dominating the world around her, literally chewing up the scenery. As this scene played before her, a jolt of energy fired through Jennifer's bones. Grabbing the pickaxe, using it as a crutch to pull herself to her feet, she staggered back towards the tunnel overhead, the crack of moonlight above washing over her like freedom again.
Balancing herself, ignoring the melee in the background, she swung the pickaxe up, catching it deep in the tunnel's earth and pulled herself up, grabbing more of the dangling rose roots. The climb was only short, all fatigue and fear were piled to the back of her mind; as quickly, she rose up towards the stone covering above. Awkwardly, positioning herself with her back against the cold slab, she pushed against it with all her worth, but the thick covering wouldn't budge.
Her leg aching, dripping blood— maybe even broken — spasmed beneath her. Sweat poured from her brow, her teeth ground into one another, feeling like they could dissolve to dust with the tight, gritted, grimace she had on her face.
A small pop rang out, at first she thought it was vertebrae in her back. She realized, somehow, she had just slightly moved the unmovable object above. Crying out, applying more pressure to the stone covering, little by little she could feel it shift from its place. Then, a loud cracking blow was heard below, one immediately followed by a female squawk, then silence. Jennifer stopped, noticing the change in the air, the eeriness that surrounded her.
Looking below she saw a shadow moving on the floor, something coming closer. Then, the face of the one-eyed Blitzer snake stared up at her.
'No,' she mumbled.
'You're next, you red-cunted bitch,' it hissed, its phallic tongue hanging from its lascivious mouth. Its hands, torn and ravaged, appeared either side of the hole, pulling its shaft like neck into the tunnel, closer and closer towards her. Winding around the rose roots, its single eye stare set on the girl it desired.
Liquid poured from its mouth, drool rolling down its chin, dripping down its long body. Jennifer backed away as much as possible, cowering in the corner, nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, trapped at the mercy of this awful thing.
CHAPTER 38
The devil tattoo on her arm gave the biggest twitch of its existence. A lava like heat filling her body as her tendons and muscles were pulled by a force not her own. She was the meat puppet now — just like Alex when the giant grub decapitated him.
Manipulated by invisible strings, possessed by a new power; with a burst of strength she reeled back her tattooed arm, clenched her fist, and threw a punch she never knew she was capable of.
It caught Blitzer off guard, the punch's sheer in-human force imploded his forehead; an indentation of bare knuckles sinking into skin with a swift skull crack.
His extended neck lolled, dazed and distracted as suddenly, twin glowing yellow lights appeared behind him and with a flash, teeth and claws reached upwards, as a blood caked and beaten Kristi launched herself into the tunnel. Sinking her nails into the Blitzer thing’s neck, making it cry out in agony as it threw its head back. Her wings widened, pinning herself to the wall; changing her hands’ position she placed them directly under his deformed chin. Then with a quick, brutal movement, pulling back and plunging a knee into its spine, a gigantic snap echoed up. Kristi's smile broadened as the lights in Blitzer's eye enlarged for a moment and then went out, forever.
She let go of his head — now a dead weight — and let it slip down past her, hearing a dull dead thud as it hit the floor.
Kristi's excited eyes, filled with killer instinct, fired up at Jennifer. A cold shudder rushed through her, as the woman climbed up towards her, breaking the rules of gravity, Jennifer felt her scales brush against any exposed flesh; she closed her eyes tight, then felt a hot rancid breath exhaling over her face.
'Open your eyes,' she growled, making Jennifer shiver. 'Open your eyes!' she screamed again, Jennifer almost losing her grip completely.
Slowly she peeled back her lids, staring directly into the glowing globes of the mutated woman.
'You tried to save her, didn't you?' Kristi growled.
Jennifer said nothing, transfixed by the otherworldly abyss of light that beamed from the woman's face.
'You tried to save her…DID
N'T YOU?'
'We were the last ones left, no one was ever supposed to get out,' Jennifer said, bringing some strength to her voice.
'It was just you and her…' Kristi snarled, her teeth drawing closer to Jennifer.
Something clicked in Kristi's brain, something that showed on her face, a juxtaposition of feelings, her new mutated animal instinct and the understanding of a human being.
'You kept her alive,' it hissed. 'You kept her alive!'
Quickly, in a flash, the Kristi creature flinched and shuddered. Jennifer felt that this was it, the end of the line; the end of the road, as the terrifying face in front of her lurched forward. But, instead of doing to her what it did to Blitzer, it dropped downwards, back into the cavern and disappeared.
Hyperventilating, Jennifer looked down as almost immediately, with supernatural speed, she returned, clawing singlehandedly back up towards her. Under her arm, was the red, wet dead body of Kelly.
Kristi cocked her head slightly. 'We're not leaving her down here,' she growled. Reaching above, she put her fingers on the cracked slab and pulled it to one side like it was as light as a Styrofoam boulder from the set of an old Star Trek episode.
Jennifer, not looking a gift horse in the mouth, scrambled above, climbing up from the cold stone slab to a tangled web of roses next to her. Feeling the wet grass underneath her, a smile fired over her face as the simple thought of freedom passed through her mind. Finally, she had escaped; finally, it was over.
Kristi rose from the hole, her wingspan outspreading in its full glory. Her dead daughter draped over her arm like a wet towel.
There was a cold night-time silence in the air, but Kristi stood fully alert, looking forward towards the gate they had driven through yesterday afternoon.
Jennifer climbed to her knees, peeking over the top of a gravestone. There on the other side of the gates the six-limo drivers were parked in line, their headlights on.
'Blitzer's friends,' Jennifer said.
Kristi snarled, her eyes glowing like bonfires. 'Not for long, they're dead meat. I'll deal with them as I leave.'
'Where are you gonna go?' Jennifer asked, not understanding what life could hold next for the transformed woman.
She smiled, throwing her daughter's corpse over her shoulder, as her flapping wings swayed the roses in their breeze. Slowly she levitated from the floor.
'I have things to do, Jennifer Blu,' she smiled, all teeth and glowing eyes. From her hand she revealed the worn piece of paper, the list of names and addresses of film producers and directors that meant nothing to Jennifer.
"The old shit list."
But to the pre-transformation, human version of Kristi, each name belonged to someone in the L.A film world who had done her wrong, people who were going to get the surprise of their lives when this Kristi came rapping at their door for a special one-on-one audition.
Taking off overhead, scaling the gates, the sound of her landing on a limo's hood echoed out. Shouting, gunshots, and men's screams rang in the air. Gurgling, choking, snapping screams, then suddenly, two limos exploded into a fireball and within one minute the guards at the gate were dead in a quick, ravaged massacre.
Then above the trees in the aura of the moon, the figure of the winged Kristi rose. Kelly still over her shoulder, as she flew skywards, turning in the air with a shriek, taking off into the night.
For the first time, all around Jennifer was calm and silent. She closed her eyes, enjoying the moment, letting the aches and pains from the night seep away.
Then, feeling a change in the atmosphere, she looked up to see the first few rays of the dawning day. Jerking to life, she dropped back on all fours to the slab, pushing it with all her might to cover the hole back up.
She stared down into the crack, seeing exactly what she wanted to see: nothing moving, nothing alive.
She rolled onto her back, looking up at the oncoming sun, wondering what she should do next. Running her hand down her side she realized that all this time, somehow, she had been able to keep her leather case by her side. Inside, her storyboards of fanged creatures were still intact; fanged things that from now on when drawn would have an air of authenticity no one would ever appreciate.
She pulled herself up, standing, getting her bearings in the morning light. The gravestone next to where they had escaped from looked familiar. Reaching inside her bag she took out her sketchpad, staring down at her quickly drawn image of a gargoyle covered gravestone surrounded by roses. Then in some unknown precognitive way, the same feeling she had in the limo earlier rattled through her mind. Walking to the other side of the gravestone, it now became both one and the same with the one in her picture. She stared at the stone in front of her, took out a pen and added a final touch to her sketch on its face.
'GREGORY BLITZER'
She considered the completed picture on the pad for a second as a morning breeze caught it, pulling it from her hands, drifting off into the sea of red roses. She touched the tattoo on her arm, now feeling less inflamed, less irritated.
'Come on down,' she said coldly, knowing somehow she had been inadvertently doing the bidding of the big guy all along. That he, for some reason, had chosen her in some precognitive way to make sure Blitzer didn't enter that hellhole. Making sure he didn't try and overthrow its rightful king. Wondering why it was her that he seemed to have the one winking eye for? Hoping… she had paid off her debt to him.
A final pulse went through the tattoo; it felt like a wink.
Turning, she found a less thorny path through the roses and hobbled her way to the yellow, dusty road. Walking back through the gates and past the dead limo drivers, the smell of blood and burning heat from the enflamed cars warmed her skin. Moving forward, not looking back, she made her way home, back to the normality of everyday life.
Whether it was chance or fate that brought her here, the tattoo had helped her to survive and stop William Blitzer; but now, she didn't know or care anymore.
Surrounded by the dead, she knew she had to get on with life again. Spending a year hidden away in the darkness of the funeral parlour, now she wanted to start living her life again, outside in the light.
THE END.
Read on for a free sample of GRIMWEAVE
1
The bodies were scattered over the ground in jackstraw heaps. They were all dressed identically in black pajamas, Ho Chi Minh sandals, and boonie hats. Their limbs were sprawled in crazy, unnatural positions. The sort of positions only death could inspire. Most had their faces blown off; a few were missing the tops of their heads. A couple others took it in the back where the hollow-tip slugs had shattered their spines into shrapnel. Those were pretty shots when you could get them.
“Nothing much here, Gunny,” Spiers said, checking over the bodies for maps, weapons, and personal effects.
Carmody stood there, still as stone, rivulets of perspiration running down his green-streaked face. He spat on one of the bodies. “I want that officer,” he said. He’d been saying it over and over again since they’d drilled the others and the officer had slipped away like an eel on glass. It was his mantra: “I want that fucking officer.”
“He won’t get far, gut-shot like that. He’s probably tripping over his intestines as we speak. Sure as shit.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I saw it through the scope.”
“You didn’t see shit.”
“I did.”
Carmody pushed his peaked camo cap from his sweat-beaded brow. He licked his dirty lips. They tasted like salt and loam and cordite. “You saw it through the scope, Cherry? Is that what you’re telling me? Is that the flavor of the fucking day?”
Spiers shook his head, leafing through wrinkled, stained photographs he’d taken off the dead Cong. They were pictures of girlfriends. They looked like hookers and bar girls from Saigon. For some reason, he always thought they’d look different. He stuffed them in his rucksack.
“C’mon, Gunny,” he said. “I been in-co
untry eight months, I ain’t no cherry.”
Carmody laughed. “Eight months? Eight fucking months? You’re a cherry with a tiny tee-tee pecker, son. You ain’t never sunk your meat into the serious shit. You barely even popped your bone yet. This is my third tour. You do three tours, shitbug, you know what real fucking’s all about. Takes three tours to get your balls hard. After three goddamn ass-busting tours you know what it’s like to get fucked by the system good and proper.”
Spiers sighed, lit a cigarette. “Yeah, okay, here we go. Thirty years in the Corps. Bougainville. Okinawa. Frozen Chosin. Hue. Khe Sanh. I’ve heard it all before, Gunny. Shit, you’re the man. You’re all John Wayne.”
“John Wayne? Now don’t insult me by comparing me with some Hollywood faggot that never even served. John Wayne wouldn’t know one end of an assault rifle from the other, goddammit. He squats to piss.”
“I was just kidding you, Gunny.”
“Try and make it funny next time so we can all have a laugh.”
“Roger that.”
Carmody laughed again. “That’s what I like about you, Cherry. You ain’t got no respect for no one. Hell kind of Marine are you anyway? I get the feeling that there’s a hippy inside you trying to get out. That you’d wipe your ass with the flag and burn your bra if I let you.”
“Well, my tits do get kind of sweaty in this heat, Gunny.”
Carmody scowled at him.
Spiers smiled thinly, knowing that few dared. Carmody was boocoo insane. He liked hurting people; it was what he was good at. Once you got to know him, Spiers figured, he wasn’t so bad. You just had to overlook the body count he left lying around. Like a pet snake, you just had to be aware of his bite.
Spiers sighed. “These slopes ain’t got nothing worth a shit, Gunny.” He kicked the pile of AK-47s he’d gathered from the corpses. “Not even an SKS in the lot. I’d give my right testicle for an SKS. Every time we go out hunting, I think, yeah, today’s the day I’m going to get me an SKS, but I never get one.”