"What is wrong with you fucking people?" Theresa cried. "Why are you doing this?"
She had grown dizzy from blood loss and stars exploded across her vision. Al bent and unlocked the steel cuff around Theresa's leg as Audrey pulled her to her feet and led her into the shadows. From the dark came a bellowing roar that chilled her blood and made her knees buckle beneath her. Audrey once again pulled her to her feet, this time joined by Al on the other side. They carried her forward like an injured soldier as her feet dangled helplessly several inches off the floor.
"I don't want to die. Please, stop, let me go. I won't tell anyone."
"We all have to die to be reborn," Al whispered in her ear. "This is an honor."
Theresa closed her eyes and willed herself to wake up from this nightmare, but when she opened them, she was faced with another one.
A large gate stood in the center of the room, twelve feet tall and made of polished bronze. Tall marble pillars stood on either side and disappeared into the gloom above. From this distance, Theresa saw that the gate was free-standing, and that there was nothing behind it. Strange glyphs had been carved into the marble and glowed with pale blue light as they approached. The bloody marks on their heads did the same.
"A sigil," Audrey said. "The queen knows we come in peace."
Theresa turned her head to get a good look, thinking if she could memorize the glyph she'd have a chance to use it herself. Before she could, Al struck her in the cheek with his fist, sending her to the floor in a heap.
"The sigil isn't for you, girl," he said. "Keep your eyes forward, or next time will be even worse."
"Don't rough her up too much," Audrey warned. "The queen doesn't like when her meat is bruised."
Al grunted and lifted Theresa from the floor. She cried weakly but no longer fought against them. She watched the floor slide between her feet as they carried her to the gate. She didn't dare look up. If they were right, and something awaited her on the other side, she didn't want to see it.
Audrey grabbed Theresa's arm and held her wrist above a small, white basin set into the marble pillar. Blood dribbled into the bowl and ran sluggishly into a small drain. Brown streaks of old, dried blood stained the marble. Theresa couldn't imagine how many people had stood here before her, all part of these lunatics' crazy ceremony.
"Our Queen," Audrey said, "we humbly offer you this sacrifice and pray that we remain in your favor."
"Our Queen," Al said, "please accept this offering in return for allowing us to serve you."
"Our Magnificent Queen," they said in unison, "we bow at your feet for the opportunity to fight by your side when the final battle has begun."
The glyphs glowed brighter as the gate opened with a metallic click.
Theresa looked up and saw the rough rock walls on the other side; some sort of cave that had no right being there. Her feeble cry echoed off the stone and into the depths of the cavern where it was lost.
"Please, don't do this," she begged.
"Go forth with your head held high," Al said. "The queen awaits."
"Thank you for accepting our offer."
Al said something in a harsh, garbled language Theresa couldn't understand before shoving her through the opening. She fell to the dirt floor with a grunt, cradling her bleeding arm and breathing heavily to fight her nausea. She sat up, swallowed, and turned to see that the gate was gone. In its place was a wall of solid rock.
Theresa hung her head and sobbed, hoping that whatever death awaited her would be quick.
She grabbed a handful of dirt and ground it into the wound, hoping it would stop the flow of blood. She reached out for the wall, dragged herself to her feet, and stepped forward.
***
Linda sat up in bed with a scream, something that had become all too familiar.
She'd seen Theresa in a dark place, crying, pleading. In the distance she heard the roar of water and the soft, leathery rasp of massive wings. She shuddered and wiped tears from her face as she stepped out of bed and felt the cold chill of wood beneath her feet.
"What is going on with you?" she asked.
Her stomach rumbled a response. She'd never heard that lack of food caused nightmares, but something was going on with her lately, and tonight she couldn't blame it on alcohol for once. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and saw that Theresa had left a voice mail earlier that night. She crept down the hall of the darkened apartment and pressed the button to call her inbox. When she heard Theresa on the other end, she wasn't prepared.
"Hey, it's me. I know you're going through some stuff, but you need to slow down on your drinking and get your shit together. I'm not about to stand by and watch you kill yourself one drink at a time, so it's safe to say that for now, we're done. I don't know when or if I'll be able to look at you the same as before. Why'd you have to lie? What did Lenny ever do to you to deserve this?"
There was silence and a brief shuffle before another voice spoke.
"You accuse me of trying to rape you?" Lenny shouted. "Have you gone completely insane? I don't want to see your face again, I don't want to hear your voice, and I sure as hell never wanted to sleep with you. Now I understand why Christian couldn't deal with your dumb ass. You're a fucking liar! You better crawl back to him, Linda, because no one else will put up with your shit."
There was movement as Lenny gave the phone back to his sister. Linda heard him ranting in the background.
"I think that about says it all," Theresa said. "You went too far this time, and I don't think I can ever forgive you."
"You alcoholic cunt!" Lenny shouted.
"Don't call me again. Forget my number. If I have anything else to say, I'll call you myself."
"Hang up the phone. Stupid bitch doesn't deserve an explanation," Lenny said.
Then the message ended, leaving Linda feeling like she'd just been kicked in the stomach.
It wasn't possible.
She knew what Lenny had done. Why was he lying about it?
And why was Theresa so quick to side with him? They'd been best friends for years. Surely that deserved a longer conversation than an angry rant over a voice message. And a drinking problem? Really? Theresa had always been the first one to instigate a party, but now Linda was the problem? It wasn't her fault Lenny had tried something without asking. He disappeared for days, told Theresa his bullshit version of events, and played the victim like a seasoned dramatic actor.
Linda thought about calling Theresa back and giving her a piece of her mind. Who was she to pick sides so easily? Linda understood they were family, but why was Theresa so quick to slam the door without hearing both sides of the story? The more time it took for them to discuss this like adults, the better chance Lenny had of filling Theresa's head with lies.
What Linda didn't know was that Theresa and Lenny weren't the ones who had left the message.
"Son of a bitch!" she shouted. She threw the cell phone across the room where it broke against the refrigerator and covered the floor in jagged pieces of plastic. She instantly regretted it. It wasn't like her to let her anger take over, but under the circumstances, she didn't know what else to do.
She wanted a beer more than anything else in the world.
"You can't," she said to the empty apartment. Theresa was right about one thing - Linda was becoming more than a casual drinker.
You're young, her inner voice said. What's wrong with getting drunk and living a little?
"Everything! That's how I got myself into this mess."
If you drink alone, no one can hurt you. Put on some television, lounge around in your underwear, and let yourself go.
"No. Shut up. There's more to life than getting drunk every night."
Is there?
When the devil on her shoulder went quiet, she walked into the kitchen and collected what was left of her cell phone. She frowned, lifted the lid on the garbage can and deposited the remains inside. It took a matter of seconds to realize the can shouldn't be there.
> "What the hell?"
She walked to the pantry and flicked on the light. She was positive she'd put the can in there the night before, but here it was, back in its usual spot next to the island. She reached out and pushed on the door to make sure it was secure.
What's going on around here?
She needed to talk to Al Sterling and figure out if someone else had access to that door. It was as if every time she turned her back, someone was entering the apartment and moving things around. But why?
And what the fuck was that awful, rancid meat stink that showed up out of the blue?
Her mother had warned her more than once that not everything is always what it seems, and Linda felt she was beginning to understand. The apartment looked great, but there was something off about it, something she couldn't put her finger on. After everything that had happened, she wondered if maybe she hadn't been hasty in signing her lease agreement. She was an hour from home and one best friend short. She had no one here. She'd only met one of the building's occupants. What happened to the weekly gatherings Al Sterling had mentioned? The parties in the old Rose Lounge? Did he tell her that just to reel her in and take her money?
"Stop overreacting," she said. "You're new here. It'll take time to fit in."
But fit in with who? She felt like she was on the dark side of the moon.
She needed to get out, even if it meant treating herself to a late breakfast. Al had mentioned something about a phone store being close by; she could kill two birds with one stone - grab a new cell phone and fill her empty stomach with something more substantial than chilled rum and Ritz crackers.
Linda showered, taking the time to enjoy the hot spray against her face. She stood there until the water grew chilly, rinsing the shampoo out of her hair just as her fingers grew numb from the cold. When she dressed, she felt better. She grabbed her keys and purse and locked the door behind her. She didn't see or hear anyone. The lobby was as quiet as a church. Her mood darkened. She knew when she returned it would be more of the same, and there was only so much to watch on Hulu.
A six-pack of Miller Lite seemed just as important as replacing her smashed phone.
And if there was still an angel on her shoulder, he was silent.
She couldn't remember a time when she had fun without a drink in her hand. Sex was better, conversation was better, inhibitions were lowered and she could be herself.
I'm not an alcoholic, she thought. Alcoholics drink every day. I can go without a beer if I really want to.
But why would you want to? a voice asked. Forget about Theresa. Forget about Christian. You don't need anyone else. You can be your own party and your own friend... who better to drink with than yourself?
Her guardian devil had a point.
Once she got back to work, it wouldn't be like this. Moving here was a tough transition; the booze only helped grease the wheels. It wouldn't last forever. Her guardian angel's silence only proved the point.
***
Theresa's head throbbed and the gash in her arm burned feverishly. The dirt she'd used to stanch the flow of blood seemed to have done the trick, but she'd lost so much already that it was likely too little, too late.
She'd been wandering for what felt like hours in the dank tunnel on the opposite side of the gate. She was having trouble remembering what had happened and how she'd gotten there. She followed the sound of falling water, hoping it would lead her out, but what she saw when she reached the jagged cave entrance made her breath catch in her lungs.
"God, save me," she begged.
The opening was over one hundred feet above the ground, carved into the side of a sheer wall of granite. Water rushed from cracks in the rock on either side, falling into the void beneath her. It was the color of rust and smelled like a jar full of pennies. It became a red mist on its descent, creating a strange, toxic, crimson fog in the valley below. The bloody lake at the foot of the mountain teemed with writhing human shapes that mewled like newborn kittens.
Beyond a blackened, stunted forest stood the remains of a city skyline, broken and crumbling like rotten teeth. Even from this height, Theresa could make out the twisted, shambling creatures that roamed the blasted streets and huddled together around makeshift bonfires. She stepped away from the edge as sudden vertigo threatened to pull her down into the abyss.
Giant craters pocked the landscape like evidence of some great war. Each was filled to the brim with charred human remains; thick clouds of flies hung over the spoiled flesh as men with pitchforks shifted corpses to make room for others. The streets glistened with coagulated blood and viscera. Noxious smoke drifted lazily from the smoldering body pits and hung over the slumped roofs of abandoned houses.
One of those buildings looked all too familiar.
The Blackridge stood alone at the edge of a great precipice, its bricks scorched and covered in soot, its empty windows looking out over a street that had been piled high with the dead. Hideous reptilian monstrosities prowled the boulevard scavenging for fresh meat, fighting one another for choice cuts and screaming in guttural vocalizations that may have been some bastardized form of language.
The tether keeping Theresa rooted in reality grew taut and snapped. Her mind grew fuzzy as visions of her childhood spilled from her brain only to be claimed by the murky waters of the nightmare. She tried to hold on, but her previous life slipped through her fingers like sand. She'd forgotten how old she was... had forgotten her mother's name. It was all beyond her reach, swirling into the maelstrom of insanity.
She no longer knew how to cry.
Instead, she grabbed on to one of her last remaining shreds of memory - a nursery rhyme she remembered from when she was a child. She spoke the words slowly, no longer recognizing her voice as her own.
She stepped closer to the edge and stared into a sky the color of tomato soup.
Far away, on the border of the fallen city, arose a great battle cry. Theresa watched as dark shapes joined and formed ranks, marching in place and howling at the sky. An army. Each grouping was as long as a city block, forming a black mass that pooled like hot tar.
It would have scared her to death had she remembered fear.
She recited the words to the rhyme more quickly as they tried to escape her.
She heard the proper words in her head, but what came out of her mouth was little more than nonsensical babble.
Lightning forked across the sky, searing her retinas. The heat was like a flash fire, singeing her hair and making her skin erupt in fluid-filled blisters. Her lips retreated, exposing her teeth. The flesh on her skull cracked and sizzled but she felt no pain.
Even if she did, she wouldn't recognize it for what it was.
All that was left was the repeated rhyme and a distant, fading memory of who she had been.
She toppled from the rim of the cave opening and fell through space.
Ashes! Ashes! We all fall down!
On giant, membranous wings, a creature parted the clouds and dipped toward Theresa's falling body, clutching her between talons the size of splintered telephone poles. The queen carried Theresa over the city and plucked off limbs one by one, feasting on her flesh as her blood rained down on the upturned faces of the demons below.
Theresa's open mouth made a high-pitched whistle.
She briefly wondered what the sound was before she was ground to a pulp between the queen's massive jaws.
...we all fall down.
Chapter 11
Al Sterling had been right.
Two blocks from the apartment, on the same street as Abruzzi's, was a small Verizon store flanked by an abandoned barber shop and what looked like it had once been an arcade sometime during the Reagan era. For once, there were others shopping. A young couple circled the store several times without buying anything before they jumped in a rusted pickup and drove away, leaving Linda alone with the clerk.
At least he wasn't smoking, and after a quick glance, appeared to be normal. It would take time for Linda to ge
t the vision of the pregnant girl out of her mind. The lights were on, music played from the overhead speakers, and the clerk was doing his best to organize a display on the counter. She had an overwhelming urge to stay there as long as possible so she didn't have to return to an empty apartment, but then she would be the oddball.
Forty-five minutes later, she left the shop with a new phone, setting up her voice mail as she walked toward Abruzzi's. She heard muffled conversations behind closed doors but saw no one. Linda tucked her new phone in her purse and entered the restaurant, taken aback by the lack of proper lighting and the dozens of empty tables. There was a faint smell of yeast and a row of flypaper hanging above the counter, covered in years of trapped insects. Overhead fans spun lazily, moving warm, humid air around the room. She'd never felt less like eating in her life.
How do these places stay open? she thought. Someone has to be paying off the health department to keep this shit hole up and running.
As Linda prepared to turn and make a hasty exit, a man appeared from the kitchen, wearing a stained apron and a shifty smile. His face was greasy and his black hair was flecked with dandruff. He pulled a small notebook and pencil from his pocket as he approached.
"Sit anywhere you like," he said. "We don't usually get a crowd this early."
"Thank you, but I think I'll come back some other time. I have some... work I need to do."
She wasn't sure why she was lying, but it felt better than telling him what she really thought.
"Nonsense," he replied with a hint of an irritated smirk. "I can make a heck of a frittata."
Linda's stomach grumbled and she smiled. "I guess I can stay for a quick bite."
Way to stick to your guns, Lin.
She allowed the man to lead her to a booth along the wall. She sat, placed her purse on the bench, and waited patiently as he scribbled her order into his notebook.
"Don't go anywhere," he said. "I'll be right back with your drink."
What she needed was a real drink. Not a Coke or Pepsi, but something with more of a kick. She hadn't noticed any coolers and felt embarrassed asking if they sold alcohol, especially considering it wasn't even noon. Lenny had gotten beer here a few days ago. Funny he never mentioned how grimy the place was.
Tenants Page 12