The Acolyte
Copyright 2007 by Mary Harris [aka redplanetes]
Chapter 11
Helen awoke with a start, instantly disappointed. I was almost there... She felt rested though, and didn't have an urge to go back to sleep, to try and pick up the gossamer threads of her dream. An odd scratching sound drifted through the dim control room, which was now pierced by tiny horizontal shafts of golden light. The noise was like a frustrated junebug trying to escape from a jar - a buzzing zip, a soft thud, then silence for a few seconds.
She turned her head, saw Mena still sound asleep, stretched out on her stomach, face half-hidden under an olive drab blanket. The sound was hard to locate, though it repeated fairly regularly. Helen sat up, face pulling into a grimace as the soreness of her hip voiced its indignation. She shifted into a better position while looking around.
The room was scattered with a few new things, 'supplies' the monster had brought in last night. A large anvil on a stand, hand tools of every sort, a generator, washtubs, crates marked 'WARNING: HAZARDOUS LIQUID', a small pile of fresh bodies. A skin lay draped over the steel table, abandoned in mid-project, the bloody bones tossed on the floor.
Her eyes fixed on the bodies. I knew there was something odd about this place. No bodies. None on the walls, none on the ceiling, none anywhere. She humphed, perplexed. For catacombs, it's awfully bereft of remains.
A movement and flash of light caught her eye, followed by the sound of a plastic disc hitting the floor and rolling away. Across the room was a familiar shape, hunched on the floor with its back to her. Helen couldn't see what her creature was doing, but the intermittent soft buzzing and scratching was coming from there.
Free of the tattered clothing it wore outside, the monster's body was hers to admire. The muscular figure at rest was just as sexy, just as engrossing, and she tilted her head, letting her gaze wander over the coarse grey hide. Its uncanny wings, folded tightly, easily, against the bunched muscles that drove them, occasionally fidgeted and flexed. Hanging between the wings, the tangled wisps of white hair shifted with every small movement of its head.
There was another flash of light as the monster tossed a cd aside, then reached to pick up another and continue... whatever it was doing. Helen noticed a tarnished brass shape over the bumpy shoulder. "Aww, no..." she mumbled as the suspicion dawned on her. The little buzzing noises now had a meaning. As she began laughing aloud, the monster turned aside, revealing the little Victrola, on which it was attempting to play cd's.
It picked up the one on the spinning turntable, held it up, and shrugged, shaking its head. Helen pulled herself up, groaning, and walked over to her friend. "Those aren't records. They are music, but they don't work the same way." She peered at the Victrola, winding down now. "I hope the needle isn't damaged. Let's wake the kid up." She threw a wicked smile to the creature, who returned it instantly, teeth exposed with mischievous glee.
Rummaging through the pile of 78's in their paper sleeves, Helen pulled out one that seemed appropriate. She spun it between her fingers, then plopped it on the felt-covered turntable. The creature's gnarled fist cranked the record player, and Helen carefully lowered the needle, while turning the volume up as high as it would go.
After a few seconds of pops and crackles, the overture of a brass marching band blasted out of the Victrola's bell. Mena was on her feet before her eyes were even open, pistol in one hand, knife in the other, both held out at the ready for the battle that had descended without warning. The look of sleepy shock and confusion was priceless.
As she caught sight of her aunt and the monster, rolling on the floor with laughter that was drowned out by the deafening march, and the little antique record player between them, she eased her stance and sat back down. Helen got her breath back and turned the volume down, still laughing between breaths. Mena threw a dirty look her way, held up the pistol. "Yeah, very fuckin' funny. Be glad we didn't find the ammo for this, or that thing would be full of holes right now." Helen patted the brass bell. "Just had to make sure it still worked." The girl smirked wryly, shaking her head.
The creature returned to its table and resumed work on the skin it was preparing. After choosing some better music, Helen followed, pulled up an ancient office chair to watch. "So... where do you put them - the bodies you've stuffed?" The monster had both hands full, one held skin and the other a blade to scrape it clean, and held a second smaller knife between its teeth. It reached up and took the little blade in spare fingers, said "Far down," while pointing to the tunnels.
Her heart sped up for a moment, though she wasn't sure why. A faint memory, a dream perhaps? Something far down the tunnels... It evaded her grasp, a flashing fish gone as soon as she reached for it. "Will you show me?"
That beaming, wrinkled face nodded enthusiastically at her, always pleased to share its macabre galleries with one who appreciated them. The creature gestured to the skin it was preparing, and she nodded, understanding. When it was done with this one, it would take them down to see.
Helen returned to where Mena sat, rummaging through a large backpack, pulling out various camping rations. She noticed with satisfaction that the monster had brought her carpetbag, as well as Mena's bag and bundled weapons. The clothes she had worn the day before were still damp, so she pulled out a pair of jeans and a shirt. Before changing, though, she pulled on her shoes and headed for the stairs. "Where're you going?" called Mena.
"Gotta see a man about a horse." Helen answered, stopping to glance back at her niece.
Mena stood and hopped quickly over, pulling her boots on as she went. "Funny. I have an appointment with that same man."
Helen put her arm around the girl's shoulder. "You know which one is the poison ivy, right?"
The girl looked hurt. "Aunt Hel! You taught me that when I was three!" They retreated into the dark stairwell laughing quietly, to pay their respects to the morning.
* * * * *
By the time they returned, there were two washtubs out, holding flayed remains in a chemical bath. The monster was snacking noisily on the last of the corpses it had kept aside, but looked up at their approach, and dropped the arm in its grasp. It reached for the kerosene lantern, and eagerly gestured for them to join it.
As they followed the creature down into the tunnels again, Helen kept a careful eye on the endless conduit pipes, trying to decipher their hidden message. It would be all too easy to get lost in here; the echoes of their footfalls rang deceptively down the arched brickwork passages, which all seemed to look exactly alike. There was a caged lightbulb every twenty feet or so, creating isolated amber pools in a river of shadow. They had climbed down two ladders, into the darkness of the lowest levels, when the only difference she could tell stood out. Two larger conduits running along the top of the ceiling wore peeling yellow paint. She wasn't sure about the other level between, but Helen was sure it had been a fading red paint in the upper passageway. Other than that one small difference, no clues offered themselves.
Bones began appearing on the floor, just sparce scatterings here and there, and then suddenly they were among the bodies. Neatly lined up side by side, arms stretched overhead to follow the curve of the ceiling. The expressions were lively; surprise, shock, terror, anger, disbelief - all frozen forever in a walk-through diorama. The bodies seemed to go on forever, branching out in every direction from junctions they passed.
"Bet anyone who accidentally found this would shit themselves." Mena commented, running her fingertips over the shell-hard corpses. The monster stopped, grinning knowingly. "Good chase," it grated out, pointing along the tunnel. "Run like rat, so afraid." Dark droplets spattered from its lips as it remembered, flinching, why speech was difficult.
"You've done that? Brought them here for fun?" The girl was aglow with the idea of a hunt on home territory, even if she was unfamiliar with the terrain still. A brief, proud nod from the grey creature, and it glanced to Helen.
"This I gotta see! Let's do it." Helen was just as intrigued by the concept, and it would give her a chance to learn more about the tunnels. They turned back, began the return to the surface. A whisper of chagrin called to the back of Helen's mind, something she had wanted to find further down here - but it was gone like smoke.
As the line of bodies came to an end, the conduits became visible again. There were far fewer than there had been up top, only the two at the ceiling, and six running along the side. They came to an intersection, and Helen paused to look at the junction box. Six went in, and seven came out. She watched closely all the way to the next box, where her suspicion was confirmed. Seven went in, eight came out. That's it. It's so simple, I just didn't see before because there were so many conduits, one more or less was unnnoticeable.
They climbed to the next level up, and she peered at the overhead pipes, now a dusty green in the bobbing lantern's light. She could now tell what level she was on, and how far from the control room, by the map of the conduits. Even if it were dark, she could feel how many were running into and out of junction boxes, and would know which way to go. The little smile of victory snuck onto her face, and stayed there, enthroned.
They arrived at the ladder to the topmost level, and Helen stopped. Mena and the monster turned to look, and she said simply, "I'm going to do a little exploring. Just to get my bearings in here." A glance from her dark friend, at the conduits running into the distance, and she answered confidently. "I understand them now. I won't get lost. But I will need that lantern." The creature handed over the lantern with a smile, continued up the ladder to the electric-lit tunnels.
Mena hesitated for a moment. "I'll have to explore later, Aunt Hel. There's something I need to make if we're going to be hunting again." Helen slapped her shoulder, nodded. "See you later, then." Mena watched the pool of light surrounding her aunt's silhouette recede down the tunnel for a few seconds, then hurried to catch up with the monster.
* * * * *
Helen made her way towards the sound of the leaking pipe. It was farther off than when they had come last night, by a different route, but just discernable if she stood still. When she was moving, the scuffling sounds of her shoes on the gritty floor, the creaking of the lantern's handle, and her own breathing were her only companions. It was still as death in the tunnels, a tomb in every sense. My favorite kind of place, she thought with a dainty smile.
She came to an intersection, and noticed a smear on the floor which led in the direction she was headed. Something had been dragged, something large and bloody. The water was near - she was at the ladder they had used yesterday, and Helen was certain the smear wasn't there then. So this is where he came in from last night with that half-corpse... I'm on the right track. The draft must be from an exit.
Curiosity pulled her on, past the falling water, following the runoff as it meandered alongside. The tunnel didn't have a noticeable pitch, but had to be slanted downhill just slightly. If not for the fresh-smelling breath of air from ahead, she'd be worried that this was a dead-end.
It was difficult not to hurry, to keep a careful pace, but she refrained from walking too fast in this deep darkness. God knows what I might blunder into. Suddenly her feet were splashing in a shallow puddle, and she looked down, trying to find the dry edge to walk along. It wasn't a puddle after all, but the beginning of an underground lake created by the draining water. Only half an inch deep here, but gradually becoming deeper as she continued, until she was wading through chilly ankle-deep water.
There had been no intersections for a long time now, not since the one near the broken pipe, but Helen saw a the black-painted rungs of a service ladder in the lantern light. Not leading down, but up. As she stopped under the round shaft, a warm breeze lifted a few hairs from her forehead, then eased to the faint draft again. Holding the lantern at arm's length behind her, she peered up the shaft. A barely discernable golden-green light seemed to illuminate the top of the shaft, which looked to be only twelve feet or so. Odd, I thought I was about thirty feet underground. Helen stepped onto the rungs and began climbing, hampered by the lantern, but unwilling to either leave it behind or extinguish it yet.
As she reached the top of the shaft and emerged into the cramped space, she saw daylight on green vegetation. It was only a few feet away, at the end of this stubby chamber, beyond a barred gate hanging ajar. Helen stepped past it, noticing the bent, broken padlock - not cut, her monster's handiwork - and into the hot summer daylight.
She stood on a hillside, sloping steeply down to a wide creek. Directly below her on the hill was an enormous patch of unusually lush grass, below which she could see trickles of water draining into the creek. She gave a heartfelt laugh to the ironic justice done here, by time and erosion. The creek almost certainly fed into the same river this water had been pilfered from.
The lantern blown out, Helen looked around, began climbing to the top of the hill. No buildings were in sight. As she rounded the crest, the rotting sprawl of the complex came into view, shimmering in the distance. Much more was visible in the daylight, but wasn't much worth looking at. The main building had been designed to look imposing and formal, but the mass of outbuilding and steel networks surrounding it were nothing beyond functional. She walked towards the weed-obscured road that led through the front gates, and followed it, regretting the cool creek was so far from the building.
The sign on the gate was fully legible by day. Before most of the letters had faded away, it had read 'PERTWILLA POWER & LIGHT COMPANY'. A power plant, abandoned in the days of energy shortages? By her reckoning, the place had been abandoned in the late seventies - at least, none of the stuff stashed in the office was older than that. No one would close a power plant in times like those, unless... She laughed to herself, reasoning the monster probably had something to do with the untimely closure. There's a good story in that, I bet.
It took over an hour to finally reach the building, and she had to walk slower and slower as she went. The ache in her leg, the sweltering heat, and her growing hunger all conspired to draw out the journey far beyond the limits of enjoyment. She barely noticed the absence of the truck, intent only on getting back inside the cool dark of the control room.
Mena was sitting cross-legged on the floor, stitching something with relaxed concentration. She looked up to see the grumpy, sweat-stained face of her aunt as she entered and flopped into the office chair. The girl turned to gaze at the tunnel entrance, then back at her aunt, confused. Helen smiled tiredly. "Neat trick, huh? I found the back door. There's a ventilation shaft, comes up the other side of that hill out front."
"So you figured out the map, huh?" Mena said, a conspiratorial grin speading on her face as she looked down at her sewing again.
"It's so simple once you know. Right there in plain view." Helen wiped her face with a rag, and described the system of conduits and color-coded lines, how they told the distance and direction from the central control room. "I don't think there's a way to tell where you are exactly, but you can't get lost, anyway." She sighed, stood and walked stiffly to the strewn goodies from the backpack. Through a mouthful of candy bar, she continued. "I found out what this place really is, too. A power plant."
"...power plant, huh?" Mena was frowning, having trouble getting the heavy needle through a flap of leather. She looked up after a second, thinking. "We did one or two electronics projects in shop last year, but all I know is the basics. She looked up at the controls, narrowing her eyes, an idea forming. "I wonder..."
Helen laughed loudly. "Mena, Mad Scientist."
The girl chuckled, pushed the needle through, pulled the heavy waxed cord tight. "You wanna know who's a mad scientist, try your weird friend. He was dragging a bunch of those fresh ones into the tunnels, when I first started these... and he didn't look like he planned on snacking on them just yet. Then he took off, to go find us a good runner."
"So what have you been making?" Helen asked.
Holding it up, to show it fully, she described it. "I lost my grip on that guy twice last night. That's not good enough." A serious gleam cut through her eyes. "I can't let them get away." She looked at her creation. "It's claws, in a sort of gauntlet to hold it to my arm."
Mena put it on to demonstrate. It was a small leather glove with the fingers cut short. There was an extra layer of leather stitched on the back of the hand, with channels in line with the fingers. From the channels emerged four wrought iron hooks. The bends jutted out out when she clenched her fist, and the hooks were exposed when she extended her fingers. "I can get a much better grip this way." The wrist contained the bent ends of the hooks, securely stitched down, and wide straps to buckle the gauntlet to her wrist and lower arm.
Helen whistled long and low. "Dang, girl! I'm impressed." She looked thoughtful for a long moment. "That gives me an idea..." The woman started to get up, then sat down again suddenly.
Mena recoiled slightly at the look on her aunt's face. It was such a blinding flash of weakness, of unexpected dismay that Helen wore, until she remembered herself, and snapped back into stony blankness. She sat, her breathing too well controlled, her face grey.
"Aunt Hel ...? Are ...you ok?" The girl wasn't sure what she'd seen, but it looked like her aunt had tried to stand... tried and failed.
"I'm fine." Helen composed her face, answered airily. "Just got a cramp. Really." There was also a firmness behind her words, though. Don't ask me that again.
Mena took up her gauntlets again, determined not to reveal any disquiet. As long as she could remember, shows of concern had pissed her aunt off, as though she considered pity a mortal insult. Mena couldn't help but worry. Aunt Hel had always been more than capable, physically strong, militantly independent. This had just looked... creepy.
After a few moments she saw movement out of the corner of her eye; her aunt shifted a bit, then stood easily and walked briskly away. Well, it was nothing then...
"Want me to make you some of your own?" Mena asked, not looking up. Helen had parked herself at the monster's workbench, after retrieving some small items from the office. "Mmm..." her aunt mumbled, already engrossed in a creation of her own. "No thanks." She glanced over her shoulder with a dark smile. "I prefer to let them come to me."
Half an hour later, Mena had completed her pair of gauntlets, and grabbed the kerosene lantern. "I'm going to do a little exploring myself, before the fun starts." She shook the lantern, realized it was almost empty, and began refilling it from a metal canister.
"Wait a couple more minutes, and you can try this out down there. It's almost done..." Helen was bent over a small contraption, wrapping a wad of tiny wires in electrical tape. Mena finished her preparations and strolled over, curious. "What is it?"
Holding it up, Helen turned it so the girl could see. It consisted of theheadset from a cd player, a small device attached just over each ear. "Tunnel vision." She snorted at her own bad pun. "It's headlamps, sort of, so we can see in the dark without having to carry lanterns around, or flashlights if we had good batteries." The woman pointed out the details. "I put two red LED pointers on it, powered by watch batteries." There were several of the pill-sized batteries soldered together and taped on. "Took forever to find ones with juice left, but those things last for years. I'm thinking the LED's will only show you what you're looking directly at, they won't actually light up the tunnel. You press here," she gestured at a button taped to one earphone, "to turn them on."
Mena took the device, inspected it closely, then she fit it on her head so that it was snug. She gave her aunt a bright smile; the headset weighed almost nothing, and was hands-free. "Go on then," Helen said. "Let me know how it works." The girl slipped quickly into the tunnel system, barely able to contain her anticipation of the excitement ahead. Her aunt noticed with a wry smile though, that Mena had kept hold of the kerosene lantern.
Helen turned back to the table, and began assembling the second headset, humming to herself.
* * * * *
The sun was starting to sink under the horizon when Helen finished her headset and sat down to gnaw on some shrivelled trail rations, washing them down with swigs from the nearly-drained bottle of scotch. Mena had stuck her head into the control room once, breathless and beaming, to report that the lights worked well, then disappeared again to continue her explorations.
Helen put on a record, and outfitted herself for the evening's entertainment; good shoes for running quietly, clothes that didn't rustle audibly, weaponry strapped on. She was restless, hated waiting, but it always ended up being worthwhile to wait for her monster's return. The last of the scotch filled up a steel hip flask perfectly, and she shoved it in a back pocket, adding a strip of jerky and her painkillers as a last thought. We might be down there all night, she thought hopefully.
She heard a distinct thud from above. Helen's heart began pounding softly in response, ready for the action to come. There was a heavy silence for a minute, then a series of muffled metallic bangs as something large tumbled down a ventilation duct. With a final crash, a man burst head-first through the grating at the end of the sheet-metal duct, and rolled to a stop at one side of the control room, not far from the tunnel entrance. The man groaned, coughing and sputtering in a cloud of dust.
The monster had chosen well. Here was one of those who prospered on the same things Helen found revolting. A man in a tailored suit and silk tie, wearing expensive cologne and a watch that cost more than a car. He wore his smug self-satisfaction like a medal of honor; 'not only do I deserve my easy life, but it shows me to be superior, morally and physically'. By his looks, he took good care of his health, probably exercized in a gym, jogged on carefully manicured park paths.
Helen couldn't wait to show him the error of his ways.
She began tiptoeing towards him, hoping to catch him unawares with a kick in the head. A shuffling sound behind her, and the creature was striding past, pulling off its coat. The dust-smudged man looked up, misery and confusion new to his world, and saw - mouth dropping open - the unbelievable thing coming straight at him. His wide eyes stayed locked on the monster as his head snapped back and forth, trying to make the hallucination disappear. "No... no... get away from me... what do you want!"
The grey creature roared and lunged towards the man, just a feint, but more than enough to send the man scrambling back. He whirled and saw the tunnel passage behind him, and needed no more incentive to flee down the only escape route apparent. The slaps of his hard-soled dress shoes receded into the endless passageway.
Helen laughed soundlessly, looking to her monster. It grinned back, motioned with its eyes for her to join the chase. She grabbed her headset and dove into the tunnel after the man at a leisurely pace. First thing to do was to drive him down to the lower levels. Mena was already down there, and would hear the man coming from a mile away.
She wondered which would be worse for the guy: running into the monster in the dark, or into Mena.
Helen stood still for a moment, listening. The faint sounds of the man's heavy breathing, sobs, whimpers, and panicked footfalls were easy to follow. She had seen the dark shape of her creature slip into a side passage behind her, making his way around to cut off the man's escape. When he saw the monster ahead of him, he'd turn and run right back towards her. If she played it right, they could force him to go down one of the service ladders.
She unsheathed the machete strapped across her back, held it low at her side as she padded along. The man was still floundering along, pausing at each intersection, then scrambling down a random tunnel. He was completely lost by now. She heard him pause, cry out unintelligibly, and begin running in the opposite direction. He'd sighted the monster, probably standing in the half-shadow between two of the caged lights. Her face widened in predatory anticipation.
Helen began walking slowly towards the approaching sound of pounding shoes and gasping breaths, scraping the tip of her machete against the tunnel wall. The deep metallic grating echoed along the passage, almost drowned out the noise the man made as he rounded a corner and saw her.
The expression on his face melted from terror to hope, as he momentarily mistook her for help against his inhuman assailant. He took a step towards her, then several hasty steps back, as he saw her better, read her body language. Despair climbed over his face, and he shook his head, trying to rid himself of an impossible situation.
Helen darted after him, and he wheeled, sped away with surprising agility. Yes, a good runner. This will be an excellent chase. The monster was already heading its prey off again, and the man turned, panicking and indecisive, trapped between two closing threats. He spotted the nearest service shaft, a ladder leading down to the next level, and dove for it, unaware he was descending into utter dark.
She and the creature approached the ladder, heard the moan of realization from below. They shared a glance as Helen resheathed her machete and turned her headlamp on. The monster grabbed a handful of cables running along the top of the tunnel and yanked downwards. A burst of blue sparks accompanied sudden darkness. It was as good as slamming a trapdoor shut on the man below; he wouldn't see any light to climb toward. Helen turned to the ladder, making it out in the red beams, and climbed down after the man.
The man stumbled along in the dark, needing desperately to get far, far away. He felt his way along, scuffing his shoulder against the hard walls, ran hard into a heavy square object projecting into the passage. He lost his balance and fell, twisting to avoid landing on his face. Rolling onto his back, saw something approaching the way he had just come - red eyes, glowing in the dark, coming towards him at a determined, easy pace. A malicious chuckle drifted his way. Oh my god there are more ...things down here! He scrambled to his feet again, his slick shoes finding little traction on the gritty floor. No time to feel his way along, he let himself be battered as he crashed back and forth against the side walls.
Something soft turned under his foot, and he fell heavily, unprepared. His head whipped around in all directions, but he could see nothing, hear no sounds of pursuit. He felt along the floor for what he had tripped over, and froze when his hand touched skin. It was cool, ...and still. He ran his fingers farther onto it, recognizing an arm. Where the arm should meet shoulder, an abrupt sticky vacancy. A wail of disgust burst from his lungs before he could stop himself. The echoes bounced and rang through the tunnels; after a few long seconds they were answered by mocking howls... from several directions.
The man struggled to his feet again, floundered on, though there was no way to tell if he was moving away from or towards the chasers. Only a few steps forward, he stumbled over a large soft object again, but didn't stop to touch it this time. Bodies...there are bodies down here... dead people... I can't be here... this shouldn't be happening to me.
He ran on, becoming aware that he was being very closely followed. Whatever it was was almost silent. Almost, but it made tiny scratchings and tappings, and barely audible growls. He felt a wall at his side, and then a huge rough hand brushed against his head, tickled him under the chin with sharp claws. Jerking back, he fell into a service shaft, bouncing painfully against the ladder's rungs the entire way down. The floor came slamming up against him without mercy. Nothing was broken, but everything hurt.
It was just as dark down here... but no, there was a light, oh god a light! A crazy laugh dribbled from a bleeding lip, laugh of hope that he might get out alive. He began crawling towards the distant warm glow, never taking his eyes from it. Whatever had been chasing him before didn't seem to be following him now. Maybe the light will keep it away from me, he thought desperately.
The light was on the floor, a steady flame that gave off a bright, welcoming illumination. He was a few feet from it before he recognised it - an antique kerosene lantern, the kind railroad men and farmers once used. It definitely didn't belong down here, but then again, neither did he. Who left it here, lit for me to find? Who cares? He grabbed the wire handle and held the lantern in front of him, jogging forward, looking for the nearest ladder leading up.
Mena paced silently behind, far beyond the circle of light. She knew what he was looking for, and smiled wickedly. There were no more service shafts in this section. The only thing he would find was just past the next intersection.
Sure enough, he let out a yelp of revulsion when he spied the fresh remains scattered along the tunnel floor. The monster had brought several of the bodies down earlier in the day, torn them apart, and left them strewn about. She'd seen the little surprise, wanted to make sure their prey saw it, too, as well as the best part just beyond. The man was walking right into the monster's charnel house, and she followed, ready to block his retreat.
Once he turned, started to run back the way he had come, but the sight of red eyes in the blackness of the tunnel changed his mind. He stopped in his tracks, his face a caricature of superstitious dread, backed up a few steps, then turned again. Mena slowed to a stop as the pool of light drew away; all she had to do now was wait.
She was shortly rewarded by a desperate sob. She could see the man far along the passageway, but could only imagine his face as he staggered among the posed corpses.
"...No... No!..." his protests were appealed to a deaf, lifeless audience. This kind of thing can't happen in this day and age - this is... impossible. The horror hit him like a blow, that he would soon be joining this parade of death. He was struck dumb for a long moment, then found his voice, the voice of authority with which he ruled a corporate kingdom.
"I DON'T BELONG HERE!" he bellowed to no one, to all the gaping statues, to his captors. With that declaration, he bolted straight back towards Mena. She crouched at the ready.
The man pounded past her, unseeing, only bent on one thing - escape. She reached out as he flew by, swung her arm out with hand open, and was physically gratified as hooks met, bit into flesh. His momentum sank her hooks deep into his ankles, jerking her arm painfully, and throwing him headlong. The lantern clattered aside and began leaking kerosene, which ignited in a pool of gold and violet flames.
His scream was deafening, full of rage and frustration; he had been sidetracked from the most important mission of his life. He kicked out, loosening her grip, and scrambled to his feet again, limping but determined. The man only got two steps before she leapt and sank her hooks into his arms.
Mena swung him around to face her, her homemade claws digging a fresh grip. In the flickering light of the kerosene, he finally saw his enemy - a pretty young thing, skinny and angry. Two bright red points of light came from the homemade device on her head... those red eyes! She sneered at him, dug her hooks deeply into his upper arm as he struggled to free himself. What the hell is going on here?... "Why are you doing this to me?" he sputtered out.
"Because your kind," she said, fingering the lapel of his suit, "make me ashamed." Mena looked him up and down with obvious distaste. "...so ignorant, so helpless, so useless ...inflicting your own whitewashed violence with smug words and cowardice."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Besides, he likes his meals all worked up." She glanced at something over his shoulder.
The monster was skittering towards them across the curved arch of the ceiling. The man turned to look, thought it was some revoltingly monstrous spider or insect at first. Mena released him, and stepped out of the way; a half-second later the creature pounced and knocked the man to the floor.
She watched, fascinated, as the monster crouched on top of the man, smelling him vigorously, intently about the head and face. The man lay whimpering and moaning, from the stench that joined the kerosene-reek, he had soiled himself in abject terror. Then the pitful moans turned to muffled screams as the monster turned its head sideways, jaws wide, and chomped down on man's face. Tendons stood out in both necks.
The monster's feet began digging into the man's abdomen, talons ripped into soft flesh. One final kick, and the man's belly was laid open, glistening, then there was a wet crunch as the head tore free from his body.
Mena fell to her knees heaving and vomiting, trying to purge herself of the sight. The creature's savagery had been so stark in that one moment. She had known well what would happen, but it was awful to watch, and struck something inside her that reviled in protest. Above all else, this creature was a monster. It had only one purpose, and that was to kill, and eat, humans ...and as little as she wanted to admit kinship with some of them, she was a human, too.
"Shit, that was seriously gross." She panted for few minutes, spat and wiped her mouth clean.
The monster consumed its feast quickly, shoving chunks of the man's flesh into its jaws. The bones were tossed aside, another pile among the dusty scattering already strewn along the passage floor. Mena coughed at the cloying stench of burning kerosene, but the flames were already dying down, having nothing else to ignite. The creature looked up at the noise, as though it had forgotten her presence, and tore off a last muscle from the carcass, offered it to her. She stared at the glistening thing for a moment, considering. "No thanks. ...I've kind of lost my appetite."
It gaped at her for a long moment, looking aghast at the idea, but then shrugged and finished off the meal. Mena took a deep breath. It had certainly been a most exciting hunt, far beyond her imagination, even with the gory conclusion. Maybe the excitement had just made her stomach funny. Bet Aunt Hel had fun with this guy, too...
"Where's Aunt Hel? She missed the best part." It wasn't like her aunt to stay in the background. In the red beams of her headset, she saw the creature look up, raise its head to sniff the air. It dropped the ragged cluster of bone and sinew in its grip, sniffed more intently. Mena began to have misgivings when the monster took off at a hurried pace, and she trotted behind, struggling to keep the dark form in sight.
She had lost the creature's shape in her red lights when a metallic clink sounded from ahead, and she turned her head in time to see a taloned foot disappear into a service shaft leading up. Running to the ladder, Mena clambered up to the next level; she spotted the monster far along the tunnel, pausing to sniff the air before it turned down a side passage. The girl ran after it, dodging the severed limbs scattered like dirty laundry.
Mena rounded the corner hearing her aunt's voice in the distance - it sounded strained, out of breath, then it went quiet. She began to make out vague shapes ahead, then was able to identify them. Aunt Hel, lying on the floor against the tunnel wall. The monster, crouched over her. Its face was mashed into the woman's still form. No, oh fuck no, it's eating her... A trembling groan of horror spilled from her mouth as she ran towards them, unsheathing her sword.
"Get offa her!" Mena yelled, raising her sword to defend her aunt. But as she drew close, the creature raised its head. There was no blood, no bites missing from Aunt Hel's body. "Broken." The monster's gruff word explained and baffled at the same time.
"Broken? Broken what? And how?" She slowly lowered her weapon, kneeled at her aunt's head. This was almost as disturbing as thinking the monster had been snacking on the woman. Aunt Hel, helpless. Aunt Hel, broken. The strongest woman in her world, fallen apart like a melted snowman. The creature pointed at Helen's thigh. Mena realized the leg was twisted oddly.
She dropped her sword with a clang, started patting the woman's face. "Aunt Hel... wake up... wake up!" The skin was clammy, and her aunt's breathing was shallow, but she roused quickly. "Wha... whad issis, payback? Why can' ya jus' lemme sleep it off..."
Mena didn't like the struggling sound in that voice, behind the petulance. "What happened to you, Aunt Hel? What's wrong?"
"Broke m' leg. Bad..., yeah... had t' take buncha pills... just don' touch i..." But it was too late, Mena had already taken off her harness and was trying to bind her aunt's legs together with it, to use the good leg as a splint. Helen let out such a scream of agony that Mena fell back, shaking. The woman seemed to slip unconscious again, but her breathing remained fast and labored.
"We have to get her out of here!" she shouted at the monster, who looked at her, perplexed. "She's in shock. We have to get her to a hospital. RIGHT NOW!" The creature wasted no time, unfurled a wing and scooped Helen up, held her tightly bound form across its back, and grabbed Mena around the waist with one arm. She was yanked off her feet before she could react, but as the creature began running along the tunnel, she understood - no time to wait for her to follow.
It took the shortest route to the surface, out to the truck. The monster shoved Mena in, plopped down on the crate that served as the driver's seat, holding Helen's wing-wrapped body off to the side. It started the truck and tore down the weedy road at a speed Mena never would have attempted - she was sure all four tires left the ground a few times.
"Hang on, Aunt Hel," she said to her aunt's drooping face. "I know you hate doctors, but shit, bones don't just break."
End of Chapter 11
A/N: The march that Helen plays to wake Mena up is the 'Liberty Bell March', better known as the Monty Python theme.
The Acolyte and illustrations Copyright 2007 by Mary Harris [aka redplanetes]
~plagarists will be flayed alive~
redplanet@trinidadusa.net
