The Skin Show (27 page)

Sweat
stung Karen’s back like slaps on sunburned skin. She tried to walk without
discomfort but it was impossible. She reached where the tunnel branched to the
right. Halted. Peeking around the edge, she saw the hypnotically pulsing walls:
fading and morphing from one lovely color to another. Green and purple and pink
and blue and so on. The hum emanating from their palpitating cycles was
comforting. She wondered if this was what it might be like to reach a rainbow.

She
could stand here watching their swirling colors all night.

Shaking
the fog out of her aching head, she hurried past the crystal barriers. The
tempting spectacle behind, she picked up her pace. More glowing colors were all
around her. It was like trying to escape a funhouse without an exit. Wherever she
turned, the colors were already there, waiting, shimmering behind their quartz
sheets.

She
had to get out of here! If the enticing lure of their flashy show didn’t get her,
the hum surely would!

But
where am I? Where’s the way out?!

She’d
tried crawling back up the way she’d come down. The slide was too steep. The
dirt kept slipping out from under her feet, bringing her back down. She knew
these tunnels had to connect to the one in The Skin Show’s basement, but she
had no idea which one would take her there. For all she knew, she might be
wandering down here until she dropped dead.

Great.
Get that idea in your head.

Karen
wondered how it was going above ground. Were the boys holding out okay? Had
they vanquished all the monsters? Or had they been…killed? Two people against
all those things, and one of them was just a kid.

Such
shitty odds.

She
walked into a fog of atrocious stench. It hovered around her like a combination
of rotted meat that had been digested and crapped into a toilet filled with old
sewage and corpses.

Karen
raised her arm, burying her nose and mouth in the bend at her elbow. She
hurried up, hoping she could get away from it quickly. The stink grew stronger
and more potent as the passage narrowed prominently and unexpectedly. She had
to move at an angle to make it through.

Suddenly
the squishing walls went away as she reached an arroyo between tunnels. The
odor was like fingers jabbing in her eyes, causing them to water and squint. A
low ceiling, the walls squeezed in around the hexagon-shaped gap. Irregular
shapes jutted from feeble walls of glowing marble. Spikes reached down from the
ceiling like sparkling icicles.  

Which
made seeing the piles of remains much easier.

Their
rotted pong stung Karen’s eyes, making them spew water in thick streams. She
cupped her hand over her mouth, gripping her nose snugly between her thumb and
forefinger. She was too late to prevent the odors from entering her mouth and
clinging to her tongue.

Death
cluttered the floor in heaps of bone, a scrapyard of skeletal pieces. She saw
human ribcages, femurs, and hands and feet that looked like nefarious decorations
in yards during Halloween season. Countless skulls ranged from all sizes and
species. Mostly human, but some had elongated snouts and horns that she figured
belonged to sterns and deer.  

Karen
started making her way through the body part debris, stepping over higher
mounds, kicking scattered fragments out of the way. The bones made hollow
rattling sounds as they were knocked back to clear a path.

She
cried out when her foot came down, and a bone jerked the ground out from under
her.

Her
rump pounded the ground, jolting her, clacking her teeth together so fiercely
it made her ears ring. Though no one had seen her stumble, her skin burned with
embarrassment. Knowing she had also hurt herself made it worse. Her ass felt as
if someone wearing concrete shoes had kicked her. Her jaw ached from the
pounding her teeth had taken.

Putting
her hands down on the coarse ground, she screamed when pruned fingers clasped
her wrist. The digits felt rubbery and cold as they curled around her. Their
tenuous hold didn’t hurt. Karen could probably yank her arm free without much
effort, but their moldy touch kept her from trying.

Karen’s
screams tore her throat.

“Kaaaaaren?”

A
gasp snagged the scream. Sniffling and wheezing, she said, “Andy?”

Rattling
came as someone began to sit up from under the blanket of bones. She knew that
the man had to be Andy, and she guessed he did resemble him. But, this person
was so white he seemed to glow.

His
face was a skull with thin pallid skin stretched across like an old mask that
needed to be thrown away. The scalp looked pretty intact, and she recognized
his curly hair on top, even with the mild lacerations along the forehead and
hairline. There was congealed blood in is ears, and a few pin-sized holes here
and there. His chest was raked with gashes, patches where bone showed. Most of
the stomach looked masticated, revealing innards and the bulges of intestines.

 Andy’s
sensitive eyes had lost all their color and were now white bulbs that didn’t
blink.

“My
God…Andy…what happened to you?”

His
mouth moved as the words struggled to keep up. “I…I’m sorry…”

“No…don’t…”
Karen shook her head. The tears that had been initiated now poured down her
face. Her voice was whiny and shrill. “Don’t be sorry!”

“I…”

“What’d
they do to you?”

Andy’s
heavy breaths sounded like he was gargling rocks. “She…I…It’s all my
fault…Danny didn’t do it…I…I did…it…” Andy groaned. “It hurrrrrrtssssss!”

Bawling,
Karen buried her face into her hands, making wet blubbering sounds in her
palms. She felt freezing gummy hands pawing at her. Raising her eyes above the
tips of her fingers, she saw Andy’s marred face pleading with her. 

“Please…make
them…stop…They keep…eating on me…and making me…I can’t stop…I don’t want to but
I can’t stop it…” He grabbed his erected penis and started to tug. It was the
only unscathed portion of his body. Screaming, he yanked as if he wanted to
tear it off.

Karen
realized that was exactly what he was trying to do and also started to scream.
“Stop Andy!” She grabbed his arms, holding them down, away from his penis.
“Stop it, Andy! Stop it!”

Andy
slouched, head drooping. “Kill me, Karen…please…”

“Andy,
I…”

“You
have to Karen…I can’t keep going like this. Victoria said she’ll keep me
alive…even though I’ll feel dead, I’ll still be
alive
!”

Andy
sobbed tearlessly.

Karen
saw the bone leaning against various others. This one was broken at the tip,
leaving a toothed edge. She grabbed it. “You’re special, Andy.”

Andy
made a snorting sound.

“You
are. I’ve never liked someone so quickly, like I do you.” She reached out,
placing her hand against Andy’s face. He leaned into her gesture like a dog
wanting to be mollycoddled. The feel of his skin was like an old desiccated
tire. “
I’m
sorry, Andy. We shouldn’t have come here…”

Andy’s
shoulder shook as his throat clucked. Karen wanted to say more, but she
couldn’t think of anything. What really was there to say?

She
lowered her hand from Andy’s cheek, pushing herself up. Staring down at the top
of Andy’s head, she took a deep breath, preparing herself. She decided the only
way she would be able to do this was without thinking about it.

Karen
raised the bone, gripping the middle with one hand, cupping the bottom with the
other.

Then
she brought it down.

Miles
killed another imp by the door with two shots in its skull. It collapsed onto
the steps, shattering into mounds of dust that were carried away by a
non-existent wind. Standing on the porch, he looked out into the parking lot. There
were less imps wandering among the cars now, killing those who hadn’t gotten to
their cars. He saw a few crashed together near the exit. He wondered if anybody
had escaped.

Did
the woman make it? She’d saved him. He hadn’t noticed the nymph coming for him.
If it weren’t for her…  

He’d
heard the gun he’d given her fire between short gaps of time. The last sequence
she’d gotten off three quick shots. It had been silent ever since.

Miles
adjusted the bag on his shoulder, raised the machete and gun, and bolted through
the doorway. He saw stairs to his right that led to the upper floor, a narrow
dark hallway veered to the left of the stairs. At the end of the dark passage,
he could see a set of double doors hanging open, the club beyond them.

He
ran.

When
he reached the club zone, he zoomed through the doorway without slowing. Feet
smacking the floor, he was trying to hurry when he spotted the broken floor.

“Shit!”
His feet skidded across the floor as he stopped. The tips of his shoes hung
over the broken rim of the hole in the floor. Looking down, he saw a ribbed
gorge that led straight down into darkness. Another step forward and he’d have
plunged.

“Miles!”

“Hoffman!”

Miles
scanned the room, finding the stage, the heart-shaped bed. He saw Hoffman on
top, pants around his knees. Quickly diverting his eyes, he spotted the rope
making an X pattern across his chest, trapping his arms against his sides. A
line of rope ran down the length of him, coiling around both ankles. Miles had
no idea how they’d managed to tie him like that. He grasped what they’d wanted
to do; hopefully it hadn’t worked.

“Are
you all right?” Miles asked.

“Yes.
You have to get out of here! They’re using me to get to you. Get out of here!”

“I’m
not leaving you!”

“You
have to, Miles. Saving my life isn’t worth destroying yours!”

“You
saved mine, remember?!”

Hoffman
huffed. “Of course I do. And, I’m so glad that I did. But, Miles, this is
different.
You
have to get out of here!”

Miles
was already making his way around the hole, carefully. Once he was in the
clear, he ran. Hoffman stopped trying to convince him to leave as he approached
the bed.

“Miles…I
told you to leave.”

“I
heard you.”

Miles
stepped up on the stage.

And
felt it to start to shake. A deep groan called his attention to the floor.

“What—is—that?”
asked Miles, slowly.

Hoffman
closed his eyes. “Victoria. The queen…”

Miles’s
legs trembled, knocking his knees together.

 The
boards of the hardwood surface began to bow upward, rays of pink light swiveling
through the cracks.

Miles
rushed to the bed, slipping the machete into the space where the two lines of
rope crossed. He started sawing, constantly glancing at the floor as he worked
to cut the ropes.

Continuing
to escalate, the boards started cracking apart. Then they exploded. The force
threw Miles off the stage, yanked the weapons from his hands, and spilled the
duffel bag’s contents all over. He saw their spray of weapons hovering in the
air as he flew back. The blast also launched the heart-shaped bed into the air,
spinning like a twisting top.

Miles
hit the floor, the bag between his back and the hardwood. He could feel a
couple small bulges in his back from inside the bag, but he assumed by their
blocky shape, it was only ammo.    

Lifting
his head and gazing over his chest, Miles saw a slurping slug-thing glopping
out of the hole. At first it resembled a brownish hill of soft-serve ice cream,
then it began to take shape, slimming down, molding itself into the outline of
a woman. Skin slithered in all directions, mixing together, creating more
shapes: the mounds of breasts, a flat stomach, legs and arms and long flowing
black hair. Her eyes appeared on the blank face canvas, followed by a small
nose and plump lips. The sickly color of her skin brightened to a radiant
purple hue that illuminated the room in a brilliant swath before dimming and
turning normal. Tentacles curled around her, starting at her ankles and making
their way up her naked plum-colored body like snakes encircling a helpless
meal. The tentacles stammered above her shoulders, fast-moving like the tails
on rattlers.

As
shocking and scary of a creation she was, Miles found himself becoming enticed
by her beauty. Her breasts were so large but seemed so soft, and Miles imagined
they would feel slightly springy in his hands. He wanted to squeeze them…to
taste them…lick them.

“Miles!”

Hoffman’s
voice snapped him out of the daze. Shame quickly washed away his arousal. He
looked to his right, finding the mattress on its side. Hoffman had become free
when it landed. On his knees, propped up on one hand, he used the other to
buckle his pants.

“Get
out of here!” Hoffman yelled.

“No,”
said the she-creature. “Let him stay. I want him as mine.” She turned to Miles,
her almond-colored eyes sweet and kind. “Wouldn’t you like that, Miles?
Wouldn’t you like to stay here with me, Victoria? Do you not want to suckle
from these nipples?” She poked a stiffened point with her finger, tracing its
pinkish tip. Her lips quivered as she heaved a trembling breath.

Miles
did
want that. But, he knew enough not to say it aloud. If his voice
spoke the words, then he would belong to her forever.      

“Leave
him alone!” shouted Hoffman. “It’s me you want! Remember, you want
me
to
lay with you, not him. It’s me!”

“In
due time, old timer. Right now, I want you to witness the boy’s corruption.  I
want his tongue to roam my body.” Her hands rubbed across the glossy skin of
her stomach, moving up to her breasts and cupping them. “Please Miles…come put
your tongue on me.”

Miles
stood up.

“No!”
called Hoffman.

Hoffman
got to his feet, starting to run.  

A
tentacle shot out from behind her and wound around Hoffman’s throat in an
instant. He tensed, body going stiff and rigid. Tugging the tentacle, Hoffman
couldn’t get it to let go.

Miles
saw this but hardly comprehended the action. He felt numb as he walked to
Victoria, his feet too heavy to lift, so they scuffed across the dusty floor.
In a moment, he was standing before her, trembling all over.

“That’s
my good boy,” she said. She reached out, placing a hand delicately on his
cheek.

Her
touch sent a warm current through him. His penis hardened.

“Get
on your knees, my boy,” said Victoria, softly.

Miles
obeyed, dropping his limp arms onto the floor. His hand bumped something hard.
Rubbing it with his finger, he realized what it was.

“Such
a poor, sad person you are.” She placed her hand flat on his forehead.

Miles
could feel her invading his mind, probing his thoughts. He tried to throw up
barricades, but she knocked them down without any effort.

“Yes,
such anger for someone so young. I see your father came to us, and you blame
him for your mother’s death. Your father was killed by the old man, wasn’t he?”
She looked at Hoffman. “When you burned down our home last year, the boy’s
father burned with it. What a fitting end to your chapter, Miles. First your
father laid with me, and now you will follow in his steps.”

“Leave…him…alone…”
strained Hoffman.

Ignoring
Hoffman, Victoria looked down at Miles, mourning on her beautiful face. “I can
love you, Miles, like no one else. I can show you true pleasure, happiness, and
all you have to do is lie with me. I will teach you, guide you. And, you will
become mine.”

Miles
was trembling so hard, he thought his spine might snap. His hand curled around
the object on the floor.   

“Now,
look at me,” she said.

Miles
leaned back, gazing up at Victoria’s perfect body. Her skin was moist from the
little dots of perspiration sprinkled across. He pictured his hand wiping a
trail through the wetness.

“Stick
out your tongue,” she said.

Miles
did. It felt like a dry piece of leather from how thirsty he was. He was angry
at how quickly he’d obeyed her.  

Victoria
spread her legs, opening the space between her thighs. Miles gazed up at the
tight slit.

“You
see it?” she asked. Miles nodded. “Good. I want you to put your tongue there.
Taste me, relish it. Let my juices flow into your mouth. Consume them. Quench
your thirst with their power.”

“Don’t…do…it…”
grunted Hoffman.

Miles
raised his head, tongue extended in front of him like a pointing finger.

Victoria’s
lips curved into a dominant smile of victory.

The
look of accomplishment twisted into shock when Miles rammed the machete between
her legs. Spindly torrents of black fluid rained down on his hands as he pushed
the blade deeper, not stopping until the hilt touched the soft folds.     

Victoria
bellowed a deep roar of pain that shook the walls. The tentacles stiffened like
branches as her body tensed. Arms straight out, they were rigid and twitching.

Uproars
of growls and shrieks resonated from outside, Victoria’s army crying out for
their maimed leader.   

Miles
rolled away from her, scrambling to his feet. He ran for Hoffman who was now on
the floor, clutching his throat and coughing as he tried to catch air. The
tentacle that had been choking him was now a solid pole sticking out. He helped
the man to his feet, draping Hoffman’s arm over his shoulder.

Together,
they watched Victoria.

Pools
of black gushed out from between her legs, spreading a murky river across the
floor, spilling through the cracks. Her skin began to sag, dropping clumps as
if melting. Her head sank into her shoulders, hips submerging into her thighs.
A ball of yellow light appeared where her heart should be, swelling, brightening
as the skin around it melted. A high-pitched hum intensified with the
augmenting light.     

Hoffman
pulled away from Miles, and looked around. He ran to the nearest table, grabbed
a chair, and ran back.

Holding
the chair above his head, he heaved it.

The
chair broke against Victoria’s chest, its impact sending her into the massive
hole she’d caused during her spectacular entrance.

Then
Miles was being dragged away. Harsh white light poured through the small gaps
between the parquets, cracking a jagged fault through the floor. The walls
thunderously recoiled, tilting one way and another. The ceiling quaked,
sprinkling dust like snow, congealing Miles’s sweaty hair. Wind buffeted Miles,
throwing his clothes so tightly against his body he thought they might split in
half. Heavy chunks pounded down like hail, but Hoffman was quick to guide him
in the right direction to dodge their attacks. 

When
they reached the exit, the door collapsed out of its frame. They had to jump away
to avoid it crushing onto them. After it landed, they dashed over, down the
porch steps, and into the yard.

An
explosion of dazzling light shattered the windows, blowing gaping holes through
the walls, and tilting the roof like a sinking ship. There was no heat from the
blast, only an impact that felt like a train hitting Miles from behind. He
landed on his stomach, rolling forward and ending up on his back.

Checking
beside him, he saw Hoffman resting on his elbows, observing just as Miles liked
to watch TV.

Together
they watched the light dwindle to a dull smolder. Soon it faded to a spark.
Then it was gone entirely.

After
a brief bout of silence, the building collapsed into a heap and, with a bit of
luck, burying the creatures underneath.

Agonized
groans came from all around them. Getting to their knees, Miles and Hoffman looked
to the parking lot. Wet gloppy trails plastered the grass down, leading to imps
dragging themselves across the ground. As they moved, their melting bodies
broke down, turning to doughy clumps before liquefying.

“Jeez,
Hoffman, what’s happening to them?”

“Without
the queen, they can’t survive.”

“Have
you ever killed a queen before?”

“Nope.”

Miles
felt a pang of pride knowing he’d done it first. Then he thought about
something. “Where’s Karen? She didn’t…is she…?”

Hoffman
lowered his head. “I don’t know.”

Though
Miles hadn’t known her long, he knew he would miss Karen.  

“Come
on, Miles,” said Hoffman, standing. He held out a hand. “Let’s get moving.”

Miles
grabbed Hoffman’s hand and was hoisted to his feet in one pull. They started
through the parking lot. They were several feet into the mass of cars when a
hand shot out of the ground, latching hold of Miles’s ankle.

Miles
screamed as the hand started to pull. Another hand broke through the ground,
pawing for Miles’s leg, which it grabbed. Losing his balance, Miles fell on his
butt, kicking and screaming.

Hoffman
grabbed him under the arms and pulled. Miles slid back, pulling the creature up
in the process. Only…when he saw it lying on its side, taking heavy pants of
air, he realized it was not a creature.

It
was Karen.

“Karen?”
called Miles, crawling to her.

Gasping
for air, she rolled onto her back, and nodded. “Yeah…” Her hair was smeared
with dirt and mud. Brown streaked her face and neck. Her clothes were tattered
and filthy. She looked rough, but even underneath the gunk she was alive, and
still very pretty.