Fear the Abyss: 22 Terrifying Tales of Cosmic Horror (12 page)

"Where are we?" Jessica asked, looking around.

"I don't know. Hold this bandage," he told her.

The room wasn't very big and smelled of dried out cornhusks. It looked like an exit foyer of some kind: six concrete stairs led up to a small landing and another set of stairs, which went to the next floor. Behind the staircase was a steel door with a push-bar, like the one they'd entered. Jake shoved and the door didn't budge.

Another steel door, set in the side wall, sported a mid-sized rectangular window. Darkness shrouded the room beyond; the only light came from holes—most likely from the bombing raids—high in the walls. He tried the door and it swung open without a sound. The cornhusk air invaded the tiny space and he yanked the door closed.

I have to go in there
.
See what we're dealing with.

"Wait here," he told Jessica. "I'm gonna go check out this other room. Keep pressure on that wound."

"Watch your back."

Jake covered his nose with his left hand and, breathing through his mouth, entered the room. He didn't move while his eyes adjusted to the half-light. Once they did, he found himself in the lower area of a cavernous room. Rows of tiered, ascending seats spread out and away from him. Stairs went up the middle and either side of the room, the latter ending with doors marked EXIT. A wide hallway, blocked by chairs and debris, ran off from his level toward the back. Luggage crammed the aisles between the rows of seats. Skeletons of varying size and age, half-dressed in worn clothing and sunken, parchment-colored skin occupied most of the chairs. A large silver screen hung over a room-length stage. The surface rippled like water in a breeze Jake couldn't feel.

Kids had drawn stick figures on the screen, labeled them with words such as mommy and daddy and me. Others had written small notes to loved ones either missing or dead:
I miss you, Scott
or
I'm sorry, Laura
and one said
Eaph and Pauline Hayes were married June 13
th
, 2036
,
True Love 4-Ever
.

They'd been married for a little more than two years when the nukes came and the United States...

Jake derailed that train of thought, but he couldn't look away from the declaration of love. It seemed trivial to write it out like that, to waste even just a few seconds when they could have been holding each other instead. They had to know the chances of anyone ever seeing it were slim and, if someone ever did, what was that person supposed to think? Love conquered all? Or perhaps even in the ugliness of death love existed?

With Love
.

Jake sought his lighter. His breath hitched when he couldn't find it and he was nearly swatting at his pockets when he remembered he'd given it to Calvin, a promise to get him back to the city.

He acknowledged Eaph and Pauline's declaration with a nod. Perhaps love was the only thing that mattered in the ugliness of death.

Jake clambered up the side aisles and tested the EXIT doors. Both were unlocked and emptied into the same long hallway, which led off in opposite directions. He piled luggage in front of each one, hoping to at least slow down anything coming through them.

Satisfied he'd done what he could, Jake went back to the foyer. Jessica stood over Calvin, her rifle pointed at his chest.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She didn't acknowledge him other than to tense her finger on the trigger.

"Jessica?" Jake said, bringing his pistol up.

"It bit him," she said, as if that explained everything.

"So?"

"He'll... he'll..."

"What?" He wanted her to say it. Maybe hearing the stupidity of it would bring her back to reality.

"He'll turn. Transform into one of them."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

Jessica shook her head. "You saw them. What else can they be?"

"Are you kidding me? The majority of the world dropped countless nukes on this country and you're asking me what else they could be? You went to school; you've seen the mutations. Cats with rat faces, deer with three tails, or bears with one eye. And that's not even the kids born with scales or gills or forked tongues."

"You've heard the talk," she insisted.

"Yeah, but I don't think a bunch of gaffers know a damned thing about these creatures. Calvin's not going to turn into one of them."

"How can you be sure? How? We need to kill him. We can't take him back; he'll change and he'll kill and he'll infect us all with this disease and—"

"Just stop it!" Jake interrupted. "Now, I'm not a scientist or a doctor; I'm just a soldier using last century's weapons, so I don't know for sure. But I'm willing to take the chance based on what I've seen today."

"You'll say anything to save him."

"Maybe," agreed Jake. "Did the ones you shot today turn back into people?"

"I don't know, Jake. I didn't stick around to watch."

"Fair enough. Let's pretend he
is
going to turn into one of them. So we take him back and let the scientists look him over. If he is infected with something, maybe they can cure him. Find a vaccine to keep us all from turning into giant howling things if we get bitten. We have to give him a chance."

"Like he did with George?" she whispered.

"I know you're angry about that, but Calvin tried. Once they took George's body—"

Jessica snapped her rifle in his direction and he almost shot her, but released the pressure at the last second.

"George deserved to be brought home."

"He did, but what if we'd all died trying?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Sure it does. At least, now, you can tell George's story and people will remember
why
he died, not just that he did."

"Doesn't change the fact Calvin's bit."

"Nope."

"The good of one shall never outweigh the needs of the many."

"Spoken like a true sheep," Jake said. "But you have to be able to prove detriment—"

"No," she said. "I don't."

Jessica turned the rifle on Calvin and shot him twice in the chest. His body flopped once and lay still, except for his fingers, which continued to twitch and drum on the concrete floor.

Jake cursed and stepped forward, but he still couldn't shoot her. She swiveled her weapon back in his direction.

"Don't make me kill you, Jake."

"Look," he said, holstering his pistol. "I'm not going to shoot you. It's over. I just want my lighter."

"Fine," Jessica said and sat on the bottom step, resting the gun on her knees.

Jake put his hand in Calvin's breast pocket and withdrew the Zippo. He flicked it open, and then closed, before rubbing it on his pants, cleaning Calvin's blood out of the inscription.

"So what's with the lighter? I haven't seen you smoke."

"Because I don't."

He almost told her to go fuck herself and explain how damned intrusive it was for her to even ask, but he remembered a simple declarative statement written on a silver screen. He turned the lighter over and over in his palm, and his temper dampened.

"My wife gave it to me about five years ago. She was a burnhead, and she lost the ability to speak. She used to write me little notes all the time. She worked on the Ag Plots, so she was outside the city every day. Her job was to till up soil to find uncontaminated dirt for growing. She found the lighter and was going to toss it when she saw the inscription. So she brought it home and gave it to me. Said it had lasted through the nukes and the bombs and everything else, just like her love for me would be forever."

"If it means so much, why do you carry it with you? You almost lost it when George fell."

Noise from the big room drew his attention. Jake peered through the door's window. Several creatures stood at the top of the two aisles, staring at the luggage they'd knocked over. One picked up a suitcase, sniffed it.

"We have to leave," Jake said.

Jessica fleeced Calvin of his extra ammunition and started removing the belt from the door.

"We can't go out there," Jake said.

"You'd rather go up? Jump out a window?"

"Not really, no."

"All right," Jessica said, finishing with the belt and setting it aside. "Ready?"

Jake shook his head, drew his pistol.

"Too bad," she said and opened the door. Jake, squinting against the sudden brightness, marched into the alley and turned back toward the street. He picked his way around the dirty clutter. At the end of the alley, he backed against the building and peered around the corner. He jerked his head back.

"What?" Jessica asked.

"There's one just sitting in the middle of the street."

"Did it see you?"

"I don't think so." He checked again. "It hasn't moved and it's not looking this way."

"We can go around."

"The city perimeter is only two blocks north of us," he said. "Straight up the street, around the market building, and into the clearing. It's the fastest way."

"If killing that thing gets us home faster, then let's do it."

Jake held up a hand and counted to three on his fingers; they turned into the street together. Moving fast, they approached the creature from behind. More than once, they slowed to traverse a burnt out car husk or skirt a crater, but the creature never stirred.

A breeze blew in from the south, bringing with it the smell of tar and pulverized brick, of burning fur and roasted meat. The wind ruffled his pants and the hair on his head. Jake stopped short and Jessica peered at him, waiting for instructions.

Why can't it smell us
?

Jake waited for it to leap up, snarling, and attack. The wind tickled its fur, but otherwise it remained motionless.

Something isn't right! Just go around!

Jessica whistled and jerked her chin, as if to say
What the hell are we waiting for?

Jake didn't know, not exactly. It was like looking at a set of icy stairs; he knew slipping and busting his ass was probable, just not on which step the fall would occur. And now, like then, the only true option was to walk, despite the likelihood of breaking a bone in the process, and hope for the best.

He signaled Jessica and they resumed inching their way toward the creature. Jake lifted onto his tiptoes the closer he got, using them like they were some sort of built in stealth mechanism. He kicked a bent piece of rebar and sent it dancing across the pavement. The metallic jig rang loud and he froze, once again waiting for it to realize its prey was closing in.

It didn't move.

What the hell?

Jake left pretense behind and hurried. When he got close enough to touch it, and it still hadn't moved, Jake put his gun away and unsheathed his knife, which he'd made from an old grass-cutting blade. He adjusted his grip on the leather-wrapped handle, swung back, and chopped into the side of the creature's neck. The blade sliced deep, severing through muscle, vein, and cartilage. Jake expected blood—lots of blood—and howling, but the creature went down silently, the wound hardly bleeding. Jake planted his foot on the creature's side and tugged the blade free. Without lifting his foot, he rolled it onto its back.

"It's already dead," he said, pointing to the bullet holes in its chest.
And it didn't transform into a person
, he almost added.

"Oh, God, Jake. Look."

His eyes followed Jessica's rifle and he ground his teeth in frustration. A dozen creatures, maybe more, had broken from their cover and were charging across the empty street. They ran low to the ground, using their hands as well as their feet. Their claws ticked on the ground, the noise filling the air like a tidal wave.

They set a trap
, he thought.
They think just like
... he didn't want to consider the idea, didn't want that active thought in his brain, but it wasn't to be denied.

They think just like men
.

Jessica fired at the creatures. Two of them staggered and fell, though neither was dead; their claws scrabbled as they rolled about, but they didn't cry out in pain. The others ignored the wounded.

Bellowing, Jake charged, and split the skull of the first one to get near him. Momentum barreled its body into him and he went down under its weight. Jessica screamed and the gunfire stopped.

He rocked the dead creature off and before Jake could get up, another came for him. A string of saliva trailed over its shoulder like smoke.

He scooted backward, climbing over debris, trying to find some leverage against the teeth and claws. "Come on, you bastard!" he yelled, bringing his knife around, wanting to hurt it before he died.

It howled, as if it understood the challenge, and increased its speed. And then its right shoulder buckled, sending it face first into the street. It tried to rise, but before it could, Jake heard a gunshot. The creature slumped, a fresh hole in the back of its head.