Evil Origins: A Horror & Dark Fantasy Collection (57 page)

Gaki smiled at
Ravna through tiny kernels of black teeth. His bald head glowed with a blue
tint, as did the rest of his translucent skin. Streaks of dark matter covered
his appendages. Gaki tapped his foot on the ground, as if enjoying a tune on a
warm, Saturday afternoon. His eyes fixed on Ravna’s, yet he did not move.

“Welcome,
man-child.”

Ravna stopped
and looked beyond Gaki. He could see nothing of the room or the objects inside,
save the mattress and the chair. The whispers about his head intensified and he
struggled to decipher them, so many spoken at one time.

“Are you Gaki?”
Ravna asked.

The creature
nodded in affirmation.

“I am here to
banish you,” said Ravna.

“I enjoyed
eating the entrails of the old man. I imagine yours will be sweeter, not aged
by so many years of sickness and decay.”

“Where’s Drew?”
Ravna asked, ignoring the remark that made his skin shrivel on his bones.

“Oh, I have
‘contained’ him for now. I gather that he will join me in feasting on your
carcass.”

“Where did you
come from?” Ravna asked.

Gaki snickered
and tossed his bony arms into the air. “I see no harm in fulfilling your
childish curiosity, man-child. You will not leave this place alive.” Gaki
motioned with one arm, inviting Ravna closer. He pointed at the mattress. “I
really wish my skills of hospitality were better, but this is all I have to
offer. I did not split the woman on that mattress, despite its tainted
appearance.”

“I’ll stand,”
replied Ravna, coming within two paces of the creature. The stench from Gaki’s
mouth made him want to gag. “Why are you here?”

Gaki looked to
the ground and then back to Ravna. “I know not of my origins any more than you
know of yours. You live, you came from another, yet you know nothing of your
creator. Your kind loves to dream grand stories of these explanations. The
religions of your day are pitiful compared to those of old.

“The Hunter has
been chasing me for hundreds of years, so you can imagine my excitement at
finally killing him. We last met in Japan, in the 1940s. War brings out the
feast for us.”

Ravna shivered.

“It was then
that Drew’s line became cursed. That is all you need to know.”

“Who put you
here?” Ravna asked.

“Who put you
here?” Gaki replied.

“God,” Ravna said.

Gaki roared and
slapped his leg with an open palm. He stood and circled around to the back of
the chair, clutching his abdomen. “Yes, God,” he replied through a wall of
tears and smiles. “God put you here, yes.”

“What
explanation do you have?” asked Ravna.

“Do I look like
the work of God? If he is responsible for creating the universe, why would he
create a monster like Gaki?”

“He works in ways
we do not understand.”

“C’mon now,
man-child. You speak like a believer. You have spent your entire life preaching
the value of atheism, mocking and ridiculing those of faith. And now, in the
face of your own demise, standing before Gaki, you have found Him? That is
quite pathetic.”

Ravna shook his
head and remembered the warning from Mashoka, the one spoken in his head before
descending into the creature’s domain. “I cannot let you loose again.”

Gaki shook his
head like a parent chastising a belligerent child. “You hold no sway over me. It
is not within your power to detain or release me.”

Gaki stood and
bared his teeth, hunching over and spreading his arms wide. Ravna took a step
backwards.

“I must not let
you pass,” he said.

“Disillusioned
to the end, man-child. At least the Hunter taught you something.”

Gaki sprang
forward, driving the top of his head into Ravna’s midsection. The blow stole
the man’s breath as the two tumbled to the floor, kicking up clouds of ancient
dust. Ravna grasped for the creature, the slimy, thin arms sliding through his
hands each time. Ravna stood and regained his stance as Gaki came at him again.
This time, the creature leapt onto his back and drove his dull teeth into
Ravna’s neck. He felt the cold bite of the creature and the flesh being torn
from his shoulder. The pain shot through his system like a lightning bolt, and
he screamed and spun, throwing Gaki off his back. He reached up to his neck and
felt the warm, sticky ooze of his own blood.

“Submit to me. I
will make your passing quick.”

Ravna ignored the
creature and swung a fist at its head. It connected with Gaki’s jaw and spun
him around in a circle. The popping sound echoed off the cavern walls as the
demon stumbled to the ground, heaving greatly on one knee.

Ravna caught
his breath and stepped back, unsure of what to do next. He looked over each
shoulder, expecting another demon to come to the creature’s rescue. He returned
his gaze to the ground and Gaki was gone. He looked left and right.

“Almost done,
man-child?” came the mocking question from the depths of the cavern. “Had your
fill of being a hero?”

Gaki came from
the opposite side of the cave, strutting through the darkness. Ravna turned his
head toward a slithering, black ribbon, an underground river running through
the cavern at the edge of the darkness.

“Don’t bother,”
said Gaki. “It does not empty anywhere you’d want to be.”

Ravna looked at
Gaki and then to the black river. “It gives me a chance.”

“It gives you
eternal damnation!” screamed Gaki.

Ravna stepped
back, surprised by the creature’s reaction.

“This ends
now,” said Gaki, stepping toward him.

Ravna kicked
Gaki on the outside of the knee, and the demon collapsed to the ground. Ravna
ran for the edge of the river. A hand came up and tripped him, sending him sprawling
to the stone floor, bouncing his head and scrambling his thoughts. Gaki crawled
to him, tearing at his flesh with sharpened nails. Ravna kicked both feet, the
left one striking Gaki in the face, eliciting a high-pitched whine. He dug his
fingers into the joints of the stone and pulled his body closer to the edge of
the river, heaving his upper body over the edge and staring down into the deep
abyss of the current and its unholy water. Ravna tasted the bitter tang of the liquid
and felt the eyes of the cursed staring back at him from the bottom, the River
of the Dead delivering souls to the underworld.

With a final
lunge, he pulled his head over the edge of the river. Ravna saw his own rippled
reflection staring back at him. His hair fell in front of his face, his
features drawn back, already resembling the taut face of the skull. Ravna
detected motion over his right shoulder and saw the reflection of Gaki in the
water. The creature’s tongue fell out and its hands reached down to grab
Ravna’s shoulder. As Gaki’s fingertips brushed the fabric of Ravna’s shirt, he pushed
forward with all of his remaining strength. He tore loose of Gaki’s grip and
fell several feet toward the surface of the flowing water. He saw Gaki’s face
before landing in the river, contorted and full of rage. Ravna closed his eyes
at the moment he broke the surface, the chill of the water numbing his skin. He
sunk beneath the surface, falling deeper into the depths of the profane river.

Chapter 17

Ravna
thought he could still taste the oily water in his mouth, even now. He had continued
to see the twisted face of Gaki at the edge of the river as he floated toward
freedom.

The
drive felt almost routine.  

Seven or
eight?
Ravna could not remember how many times he had been there since the
event. He was still unsure what to call it. The media attention quickly faded
in favor of the next sadistic crime. Even the most heinous acts of sexual
depravity slip into obscure pop culture. He had lost touch with Molly when she
moved with the kids to West Palm Beach. Ravna could not understand the lure of
Florida. Too much humidity, too many old people, too much Disney.

He stopped at
the traffic light and looked in the mirror. The new buzz cut accentuated his
widow’s peak, once hidden by decades of shaggy hair. He ran a hand over his
head and down his chin, pulling the straggly beard to a point. The old man
would have loved the beard.

“Ravna Hedner. Here
to see a patient.”

The guard at
the gate held a clipboard to the light and ran a finger down the side. He
nodded and hit a button inside the booth. The gate rose and Ravna pulled
through and onto the winding, brick driveway leading up to the restored mansion.
It had taken several years of renovation before the first patient was admitted,
but since the grand opening, the Rader Facility for the Study of the Mind was
the most prestigious institute east of the Mississippi. Surgeons and
specialists from all over the country fought for the few staff positions, which
rarely turned over.

Ravna pulled
the car into the visitor lot. He took a last swig of coffee, now cold from the
drive, and grabbed the keys. He left everything else on the front seat. Ravna
felt obligated to document the experience, as if Molly or some distant relative
would someday ask for justification of the money spent. He knew the old man had
something to do with it, but a team of high-powered attorneys managed to shut
the door on any explanation. As long as he checked in four times a year, the
checks would keep coming, with or without documentation beyond a checkmark on
the front-gate guard’s clipboard.

He walked
through the main doors and felt the dryness of the air conditioning wash over
his skin. May had not yet turned into the blasting heat of August, but the
facility strove to maintain consistency for the patients, even down to the
details of climate control and menu. Ravna stepped into the elevator with a
woman in a white lab coat and glasses that came to a point at the edge of the
frame. She smiled at him and contributed an obligatory wink for the ride.

“Floor?” she
asked.

Ravna thought
he could smell the cherry flavor of her deep-red lipstick.
Librarian sexy. Work
hot,
he thought to himself.

“Which floor?”
she asked again.

Ravna shook
himself from the daydream skidding toward sexual fantasy. “Seven. Seventh
floor.”

She pushed the
button and turned to face the floor indicator as it changed from L to 1.

“Are you a doctor?”
Ravna asked. His face flushed red as soon as the question came out of his
mouth.

“Yes,” she
replied with an air of dignity.

“I didn’t mean
to imply you were a nurse simply because you’re a woman.”

The chime
signifying arrival at the fifth floor spared him from the slow impact of the crashing
conversation.

“Have a great
day,” the woman said over one shoulder, her eyes headed for an exaggerated
roll.

“Stupid,” Ravna
said to himself.

The doors shut
and he felt the elevator pull him up two more floors. His stomach caught up a
moment later as the door opened to Ward C. They could call it whatever they
wanted; those who worked there or visited knew that Ward C belonged to the most
mentally afflicted. A computer could douse the hallways with flame retardant
foam or lock every door from the outside with magnets powerful enough to lift
trucks.

He walked down
the hall and turned past the lobby and its tantalizing vending machines before
turning again and stopping in front of room 709. The first few visits had left
him shaking, fighting to enter the room. He had considered running and
forsaking the check from the fund until he thought of Mashoka. Ravna could live
with the sense of shirked responsibility, but not the guilt that would
accompany an abandonment of his pledge to the Hunter. As time and visits
passed, the trip to 709 felt like a visit to the room of a family member, one
unable to function outside the walls of a hospital, but not facing death
either. Ravna thought it was how nurses kept their sanity.

He reached for
the handle, placing his thumb on the sensor at the same time. The light turned
from red to green, signifying his level of access, granted by the
administration. The door swung silently inward. The air felt stifling, even
warm, despite the computer-controlled climate system that was probably the envy
of NASA scientists.

“Drew?” Ravna
called out.

No reply.

He walked
forward, the stark white of the room forcing him to squint. Ward C stood in
shocking brilliance. The walls, the floors, the bedding, the doors, everything
glowed in pure, alabaster white.

“How ya doin’,
Drew?” Ravna asked.

The door to the
bathroom was pinned to the wall with its magnetic latch. The toilet and shower
stall were devoid of any inhabitants, not a towel or tissue out of place. Ravna
took two steps into the room, the automatic door shutting behind him. He jumped
and then laughed, unsure why the sudden bout of paranoia had arrived.

Drew
must be sleeping.

He
walked past the chair and simple chest of drawers that looked the same as they
had on all of his previous visits. Never a balloon, card, or basket. He stood
at the foot of the bed, staring at the sheets, secured at the corners by the
orderly on shift the night before. Ravna felt the moisture from his mouth
escape and his bowels shook with an unnatural rumble. He spun around,
half-expecting to be attacked as he was in the cavern, in what felt like
another lifetime.

Nothing.

The room was
completely silent. And empty. Ravna took a step toward the door, his heart
racing as he anticipated the lockdown of the floor or possibly the entire
facility until the staff could find Drew. He turned to the right and noticed
that the door to the small closet was open. Ravna could not remember ever
seeing the door open. He moved closer and saw three hangers on the closet rod,
dangling in the air. It was the contrast of red on white that caught his
attention. A roughly sketched doorway had been painted on the wall of the
closet in finger-strokes of blood. Inside the doorway was a name.