Don't Read After Dark: Keep the lights on while reading these! (A McCray Horror Collection) (74 page)

Rook opened the door leading to the hospital room. He crossed to the bed and put his nose to the pillow. It smelled of sweat, fear, and—surprisingly—of apricots. He liked apricots. They were his mother’s favorite pie. But he could not get distracted.

Fear was actually the most useful scent here. He doubted if Angela’s fear would lessen the deeper into the building she scurried.

Standing up, Rook sniffed the air. Sure enough, the lingering scent of terror led him to a large bank of machines. They were pushed just a little to the right, and there was a hole. Whoever broke Angela out knew this place—down to the most impenetrable wall deep within the complex.

Hopefully, though, they had no idea he was coming.

* * *

Angela ran, restraints dangling from her wrists. She clutched a scalpel. She’d already made it up two flights of stairs, but guards had blocked the last stairwell. There must be another. The voice had said to go up. She had to go up.

The floor shook as another bomb went off—this time closer. The emergency lights only worked intermittently, making it hard to charge full speed ahead.

She skidded to a stop when she heard voices. Ducking into a storage closet, Angela kept the door open a crack. Armed guards rushed down the hallway, heading back downstairs.

They were shouting something about a gas line breach. Like she needed any other reason to get out of there. Cautiously, she exited the closet and inched her way down the hall. Were those the guards who had been blocking the stairwell?

Without a map, it was her best bet. Back against the wall, Angela made her way back down the passage. She held her breath as she came to the corner. There weren’t any voices. Ever so slowly, she peeked around the corner. No guards. But there was a good ten feet of corridor where there was no cover.

She could do this. She couldn’t let Brian’s sacrifice go to waste. Footsteps sounded down the hall. She could wait no longer.

Taking a deep breath, Angela gripped the scalpel tightly, and then bolted across the empty hallway. It was only a few yards, yet it felt like the Boston Marathon. She hit the door at a run and careened into the stairwell. Grabbing the railing, Angela righted her course. She bounded up the steps.

Up. Always up.

* * *

Rook waited in an alcove as guards charged by. The explosions were happening less frequently. However, they were getting bigger. He wouldn’t be surprised if the whole place wasn’t meant to come down—but not until the attackers had Angela, he guessed.

He would just have to sneak in like the fox in the henhouse—a really sly fox searching for the one hen that could alter the course of history. Yep, that was pretty much the situation. And he was unarmed, of course, unarmed to boot. As sure as hell, those others sniffing around the henhouse were armed to the proverbial teeth.

Once the guards passed, Rook stepped from the shadows and snuck down the hall until a shout came from behind. “Get those hands up!”

Rook complied as he turned toward the guard.

“Hands behind your head!”

“My pleasure,” Rook stated as he laced his fingers together.

He might not have any weapons, but the guard? The guard had an automatic rifle.

“There’s a bounty of half a million dollars on you,” the guard sneered as he approached.

“Really? That is just insulting. Anything less than seven figures does not take into account my wine-tasting skills.”

The guard grunted as he pulled some zip-tie restraints off his belt. “Turn around.”

Gladly.

A quarter of the way through the turn, Rook lashed out with his elbow, catching the guard in the nose and shattering the thin bone. With his other hand, Rook knocked the rifle away and landed a punch to the solar plexus. The guard doubled over, gasping for air. Swinging back around, Rook used his elbow against the guy’s neck. The guard fell to the ground, unconscious.

Rook bent over and picked up the gun.

“Thanks. I was looking for one of these.”

* * *

Tomahawk did his best to comfort Fanny as she moaned in his arms. Occasionally, she would spasm and fight against his hold, but then fall fitfully back into his arms. This time, though, her whole body shook, and her skin broke out in hives.

Damn, he never should have let Rook bring her along. This was too much for anyone, let alone someone as “special” as Fanny. His heart ached each time she jerked. The girl tried to say something, but he couldn’t hear over her grinding teeth.

“Fanny, I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“They’re close,” she croaked out.

Thunder with no lightning rattled the building as the ground beneath them shook. This was no earthquake, or at least not a natural one.

“That’s it,” Tomahawk announced, scooping Fanny up. “It’s time to get out of here.”

“No!” Fanny exclaimed. “Something is in there with Rook.”

Tomahawk looked toward the warehouse. Fire smoldered in at least five different sections as black smoke billowed out. Past that, the flying horde approached with astonishing, unnatural speed.

And now something was
inside
the warehouse?

“What, Fanny? What’s in there?”

Too weak to hold up her head, Fanny leaned against Tomahawk’s chest. “I don’t know,” She had to take a breath before continuing. “But it stalks him.”

* * *

Angela came out of the stairwell, slipping on something slick. She looked down to find her bare feet treading through blood. She slowed. The liquid was still warm and wet. But there was no one in the corridor. How could there be so much blood without a body? She couldn’t imagine someone walking away from this huge blood slick. Casting her glance up and down the hallway, she couldn’t find another stairwell. She must be on the top floor. Now she had to find the door to the roof.

Continuing down the hall, the blood became thinner until her feet hit the dry floor again. That had to be a good sign, right? Hurrying, Angela came to a dead end. How could the hall just end? She would need to backtrack.

Footsteps echoed off the walls. She needed to obey the voice and go up quickly. Angela found an air shaft and tried to pry it off, but it was screwed tightly into the wall. Taking her scalpel, she rapidly unscrewed them with shaky fingers. Finally, the screen popped off, and Angela started to crawl in when someone grabbed her ankle.

Hauling back, Angela kicked as hard as she could at her attacker, but still she was pulled out of the duct.

“Damn,” the man said, and he wiped the blood from his nose. “Not the face, woman.”

Angela wielded the scalpel at the dark-haired man. “I’ll kill you if you try to stop me.”

But he just chuckled. “Funny, I was just about to say the same thing to you. Now, let’s get going.”

The man motioned back down the hall, but Angela knew which way she needed to go.

“Up,” the voice said.

Was it really here in the hallway, or did she just hear that in her head? But the man swung around, pointing his gun as the voice finished. “Always up.”

The voice repeated the phrase as a figure crept from the shadows, its form covered in a cloak. “Up. Always up.”

The man grabbed her wrist and tried to tug her down the hallway. “Come on.”

But Angela’s feet held firm as the emergency lights flickered, creating a nearly strobing effect. However, as the voice repeated the phrase, the more and more snakelike it became. Steam rose from under the cloak. What was happening?

“Up,” the thing hissed. “Always up.”

“Okay, dude, we got it,” the man said. “Now scamper home.”

Instead, the creature shed its cloak and rushed at them. Five rows of teeth glistened in the light.

Angela clutched the man’s arm, screaming.

* * *

Fanny screamed, thrashing in Tomahawk’s arms. He lost hold of the ladder. Luckily, they were only a few feet from the ground. Still, they hit pretty hard. Fanny’s screams continued as she clutched her ears.

“What, Fanny?”

“A ripper,” she moaned. “A soul ripper.”

“Shi—”

Thunder boomed, shaking the building’s windows. He covered Fanny as they shattered, sending glass into the street.

“Come on,” Tomahawk said, as he urged Fanny to her feet. “We’ve got to get out to the car.”

But the girl wilted against him, too weak to even stand.

He had to get her as far away from the warehouse as quickly as possible. Picking her up like she was a child, Tomahawk made a dash for the station wagon.

* * *

Rook fired repeatedly, yet barely stalled the beast. It charged, undeterred.

“Up,” it chanted. “Always up.”

“Dear Gawd!” Rook said as he shot off another twenty rounds. “
Shut
up.”

The only way he could be more annoying was to rap the slogan. His gun clicked on metal. The beast seemed to sense their vulnerability as it opened its maw even wider.

Rook turned toward Angela. “Give me the scalpel.”

But the woman was too stunned to respond, so he snatched it from her hand. The beast was coming fast, but Rook held his ground until the very last second. He let the scalpel fly from his hand, straight into the beast’s mouth. It tried to say “up” one last time, but all that came out was a garbled gurgle as black blood oozed from the wound. The beast attempted to take another step forward but toppled, letting out a death rattle.

“What…?” Angela whispered, and then repeated more with force, “What is that?”

Rook went over and extracted the scalpel. They might need it later. “It was a soul ripper. I think the name is pretty self-explanatory.”

He grabbed her hand and urged her down the hallway, but she was still fascinated by the soul ripper’s corpse.

“How did you know that would work?”

“They’ve got peas for brains. It’s just a matter of finding them.” Rook tugged on her again. “Now is science class over, so we can
go
?”

The woman ignored his pleas and stood rooted firmly in place. “Why did it want me to go up?”

“Probably because it’s got a few relatives up there, just waiting for your soul to be served up.”

* * *

Angela looked down at the ripper. Its fur wasn’t black, but a deep, dark blue. However, its blood ran black. Which was impossible, wasn’t it? But so was a virgin conception. So was everything that had happened over the past day.

“Angela,” the man said, “there are more of these, and others. We have got to move it or lose it.”

Despite his flippant tone, his blue eyes pinched with worry.

“What…” Angela had to gulp before continuing. “What is your name?”

“Rook,” he answered, as if that might mean something to her. “Now giddyap.”

This time, when he tugged on her arm, Angela did not resist. If up was not an option, she had no idea how to escape the building. At least Rook seemed to know where he was going. Quickly, they made it down the stairs to the main level. A dead body—that of one of the suited men—blocked the doorway.

Rook lifted the gun from the body.

“So much for Mr. Cocky,” Rook said before he carefully opened the door to the main hall.

The sound of gunfire and screams filled the air. Rook clicked the door closed. “Yeah, we’ve got ourselves a party out there.”

“Is it more of the soul rippers?” she asked trying to keep the terror from her voice.

“Nope,” Rook answered. “It’s much worse,” he added.

Angela could not believe that was possible. What could be worse than the ripper? Cautiously, she peeked out the window to find that Rook was not just correct, but had undersold the battle being waged.

Huge slugs reared up on slimy tails, sucking the heads off anyone they encountered, as another group of guards seemed to be battling huge, white yetis. She could take a picture of it all and put it in the dictionary under the term “impossible,” yet there they were.

Beyond it all, though, there was a bright green Exit sign. Of course, they would have to get past the frenzied battle. Which did not seem very likely.

Rook gripped her shoulders and turned her toward him. “I can protect us,” he said. “I can shield us both, but you must trust me.”

“Trust you?” she questioned. “You said you’d kill me.”

“Hey,” he said. “You said it first.”

She trembled under his grip. This wasn’t funny. Not at all. How could she trust him if he couldn’t even be serious?

Rook held her gaze. “I can do this.” His words might be sarcastic, but his eyes were determined.

Still, she glanced out the window to the mayhem beyond. “I don’t understand. How can you get us past all of… all of
that
?”

He did not answer her. Instead, he took off his coat and murmured something under his breath. When he swung it back over his shoulder… his shoulder disappeared. As Rook put the coat back on, his entire body shimmered, seemingly not there at all.

That could not be. She reached a tentative hand out and felt the leather of Rook’s coat and the hard muscles underneath the fabric. He was there, but she could not see him. Rook removed the coat and appeared before her.

“I have the power to hide both of us, but only if you hold on to faith.”

Faith? Angela had very little of that to spare.

Rook cocked an eyebrow. “Okay, chickadee. You come up with a better plan.”

Of course, she had no other plan. The path to the exit was a massacre. But to believe that invisibility was possible, and that her faith had anything at all to do with it? That wasn’t a plan. That was the first step toward insanity.

* * *

Chicks, man. They could never make up their minds.
He needed to persuade Angela to put aside all the doubt and fear. She had to commit, or they were both going to die.

“All right. Best of luck to you,” Rook said as he put the coat back on.

A shimmer passed over his vision, casting Angela in a silver glow. Near panic, her eyes searched for him. Good. He needed reality to hit her a little harder to get her out of denial.

Civilians.
They saw a little magic and got weak in the knees.

If a guy offers an invisibility spell, take it.

Rook put his hand on the doorknob and turned it. Angela’s eyes went to the knob, and then to the spot where he had been standing.