Ghoul (12 page)

“Didn't hear it hit bottom.” He grinned. “Maybe it's a bottomless pit, like in Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

Ronny didn't say anything. His glare was enough to prod Steve into action. Steve turned around, knelt on the dirt floor, and lowered his legs into the hole. Then he inched himself backward. His waist was even with the floor, then his chest. His fingers clutched at the ground, clawing for purchase. Then his chin was even with the ground and still his feet hadn't touched bottom.

Ronnie shined the light directly into his eyes. “Anything?”

“No ...” Blinking, Steve raised a hand to shield his face from the bright beam, forgetting that both his hands were digging into the dirt, holding him aloft. With a yelp, he slipped. His fingers left deep trenches in the floor. He vanished from sight. His screams were followed by a muffled thump.

“Holy shit.” Jason ran to the edge and peered over. Chuckling, Ronny joined him.

Steve stared back up at them from approximately ten feet below. His face and hands were covered in dirt. He brushed soil from his hair.

“You asshole, Ronny. Why'd you do that?”

“I'm gonna kick your ass when I get down there if you call me an asshole again.”

“Sorry, dude. But that wasn't right, man. I could have broken my leg or something.”

“Fuck you, crybaby. What do you see?”

Steve shook the rest of the dirt from his hair and then peered into the darkness.

“Not much. Looks like it goes both ways. The smell is definitely coming from down here, though. God, it makes me want to puke.”

“Maybe they're pissing down there,” Jason suggested. “Shitting, so they ain't got to run home when they need to go.”

“The walls are slimy,” Steve called. "There's some kind of... goo. What is this shit?

It's sick."

Ronny shook his head in disgust. “Do you see their stash or anything?”

“No. You've got the flashlight, man.”

Without warning, Ronny tossed the flashlight down to him. Instead of catching it, Steve threw his hands over his head to protect himself. The flashlight thudded onto the tunnel floor. The beam went out.

“Shit! Pick it up, man.”

Plunged into total darkness, Steve knelt and frantically felt around for the flashlight.

The hard-packed dirt on the tunnel's floor felt slimy, too. His fingers brushed across the flashlight and he turned it back on, but nothing happened.

“It's broke,” he called. “Get me out of here. I can't see shit, and it stinks.”

“Because you're under a graveyard.” Jason giggled.

“Come on, dudes. Pull me up.”

They heard his hand flailing around in the darkness, slapping at the moist, earthen sides of the pit.

“Goddamn it,” Ronny muttered. "Do I have to do everything myself? All we're supposed to do is trash three geeks'stupid clubhouse. Get them back for what they did to my bike. That 's it. And now look at us. You guys would fuck up a wet dream. I swear to fucking Christ, sometimes I feel like Boss Hawg, surrounded by a bunch of idiots." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette lighter. Handing it to Jason, he said, “Go help him.”

Swallowing Hard, Jason turned and lowered himself into the pit.

“Look out below.”

Steve called up, “What? It's hard to hear down here.”

“Move out of the way, dipshit.”

Feet dangling into empty space, Jason let go and dropped to the bottom, landing in a crouch. He sprang to his feet, brushed himself off, and then thumbed the lighter wheel. He sighed in relief at the sight of the orange flame. The brief darkness had seemed like a solid thing. Next to him, Steve was visibly grateful as well.

“Coming down.”

Ronny landed with a grunt. The floor squelched beneath his feet. The flame on the lighter wavered, then resumed. The three teens glanced around. They stood in the center of a tunnel, running roughly in the direction of the cemetery 's lower half, where the older graves were, and in the direction they'd come from, towards Farmer Jones's pasture. The walls were smooth. The floor was smooth, too, although piles of soil lay scattered along it--debris left behind from the digging. The passage was roughly circular, wide enough to walk single file, and varied in height. Their heads brushed against the ceiling, but none of them had to crouch or slump forward.

“This is fucking disgusting.” Ronny wiped slime from his hair with his fingers, then flung it away. It dripped from his fingertips like translucent mucous. “What the hell is this shit?”

“Snail snot?” Jason suggested.

Steve and Ronny blinked at him.

“Snail snot?” Ronny snickered. “That would have to be one big fucking snail.”

Steve covered his mouth and nose with his hand, trying in vain to block out the stench.

He immediately pulled it away. The traces of slime left on his hand smelled even worse than the air. “So what now?”

The lighter was growing hot. Wincing, Jason switched it to his other hand and sucked the tip of his burned thumb.

“Well,” Ronny said, no longer bothering to whisper. His voice echoed in the subterranean chamber. “Their clubhouse has to be in one of these two directions. You go that way,”

he pointed toward the old graveyard, “and Jason, you go the other way.”

“What about you?” Jason asked.

"Somebody's got to stay here and be on the lookout. What if Old Man Smeltzer shows up? Or the cops? Who's gonna warn you? Now get going. Time's a wastin'."

“Fuck that,” Steve said, taking a rare stand. “I ain't going anywhere without a light.”

“Yeah, Ronny,” Jason dared to agree, bolstered by Steve's bravery. "In fact, maybe we ought to bag this whole thing. We don't know what this slime is. Could be toxic, like that chemical dump they found in Seven Valleys, with all the illegal waste. And these walls and roof don 't look too sturdy. There's no beams or supports or nothing. Could come crashing down like that." He snapped the fingers on his free hand.

Ronny sighed. “Nothing's gonna happen. Quit worrying.”

Steve stared at his sleeve, coated with slime from brushing up against the tunnel wall. “You really think this shit could be toxic?”

Ronny's patience wore thin. "If you'd get to it, we wouldn't be down here long enough for it to bother us, even if it was poisonous or something.

Look, if you need your little night-light, both of you go in one direction, then.

Fucking pussies."

They glanced at one another, sighed, then set off into the darkness. Jason led the way, Steve slinking along behind him.

“Stinks worse back here,” Ronny heard Jason mumble. “It's like a cloud.”

Steve coughed. “Bet we're heading toward the old part of the graveyard. Maybe it's bodies we're smelling.”

The lighter's flame got dimmer as they kept moving forward. Their voices grew faint, and Ronny had to strain to hear them. One of them, he couldn't tell if it was Steve or Jason, said something. The dirt walls seemed to swallow the words up.

“Can't be that far,” Ronny called. “Look for their shit. Comics. Porno mags. Stuff like that. If it ain't there, then it's down the other way.”

The flame was a distant pinprick now, and the shadows closed in on Ronny, surrounding him. In his mind, it felt like the darkness was pushing against his body-- a tangible thing. The air inside the tunnel grew colder.

“Guys? Hey, Steve! Jason! Did you hear me, fuckers? It must be this way.”

The tiny flame disappeared completely. Ronny gasped, and closed his eyes for a second.

When he opened them again, it was like they were still shut. He wiggled his fingers in front of his face, but couldn't see them.

“Hey, dickheads! Get back here with the goddamn lighter! I can't see shit.”

The darkness became a wall. A cocoon. Something cold and wet dripped on his head.

“Jesus Christ ... hey, Jason? Get the fuck back here now, you son of a bitch! This shit ain't funny, man. Not one fucking bit.”

There was no response.

“Steve?”

His annoyance turned to anger, then fright. Not fear. Not terror. Not yet. But he was frightened. He was shivering and it had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

No way he wanted to stay down there in the dark, especially not when the whole place smelled like shit. He couldn't go find them. Without a light, he could trip or stumble into a wall or something and knock the whole tunnel down on top of them, burying them alive.

“Jason? Steve? Come on, you guys, answer me.”

“me... me... me...”

His voice echoed back to him, taking on an odd, muffled quality. The stench, that open sewer smell, grew stronger. "Quit fucking around, goddamn it! I know you can hear me. You ain't gone that far."

“far... far... far...”

“I'm gonna beat the living shit out of you both if you don't get back here with that lighter right fucking now.”

“now ... now ... now ...”

The echo died, and was followed by a new sound. A grunt.

“The fuck was that?”

He wondered if there could be an animal down there with them. Maybe a fox or a skunk, maybe with rabies. Ronny shivered, then got pissed off all over again. He shifted his weight, and his foot collided with the discarded flashlight, knocking it farther into the darkness. He bit back a yelp. Enraged, he took a deep breath, preparing to shout at the top of his lungs, to yell and holler at them like never before, to put the fear of Ronny Nace into them.

That was when the screams started.

“Oh shit ...”

Muffled. Faint. But despite the distance, there was no mistaking the terror in them.

Or the pain. No illusions; they weren't just fucking around or playing a joke. Something was wrong.

“Jason?” Ronny's voice became a hoarse whisper. “S-Steve? Please come back. Please ...”

“Ronny, run! R--arrggh ...”

“Guys? What's happening?”

“Ronnnnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy ...”

He couldn't tell if it was Steve or Jason, or maybe both of them. It was too high-pitched, too feminine. He'd never heard either of them scream like that before. He'd never heard anyone scream like that.

“ . . yyyyyyyyyyyyyy...”

“Guys,” he sobbed. “I-I can't see you ...”

“... yyyyyyyyyyyyy. . .”

The scream had turned into one long, warbling wail. Then, almost lost beneath it, was another grunt-- a raspy sort of snuffling sound, like a cross between a bear and a pig. Abruptly, the screaming stopped. The tunnel was silent for a brief second, and then footsteps pounded toward him. The stench grew even more overpowering. Ronny glanced up at the top of the hole, but could barely see the outline. Something hissed in the darkness, a teakettle set to boil or a locomotive building up to full steam.

The running footsteps drew closer. Ronny peered into the darkness, trying to determine if it was Steve or Jason.

It was neither.

Whatever it was, its laugh was guttural, like gravel. Both the hissing sound and the stench were all around Ronny now. Suddenly, even as his stomach churned and his nose burned from the acrid odor, Ronny realized what the sound reminded him of. Several years before, when he was younger, Ronny's favorite Saturday morning show had been Sid and Marty Krofft 's Land of the Lost. In it, there had been an alien race of lizard-like beings called the Sleestak. They'd terrified him; equipped with huge, black, bulbous eyes, clawlike pincers for hands, scaly green bodies, and pointed heads and tails. But the worst part, the scariest part of all, was the sound they'd made: a reptilian hissing that went on and on with no pause.

That was the sound he heard racing down the tunnel. Racing toward him.

Then the figure became discernable. Human-sized; two arms and legs, and alabaster skin-- white almost to the point of albinism. Ronny blinked, then realized why he could see it. Whatever this thing was, it gave off its own luminescence. Not much, but enough to make out its features. He willed himself to move, but his feet disobeyed him.

The creature drew closer, swinging long, dangling arms that hung down past its waist.

On the ends of those monstrous appendages were oversized hands with talon-tipped, bony fingers. The thing seemed to be entirely hairless, and in the middle of its pointed, head was a tiny face; yellow pinprick eyes, a slit for a nose, nonexistent chin, all dominated by a huge, grinning mouth full of yellow and black teeth. Slime --the same slime that covered the tunnel--dripped from its pores.

It was the stench of the creature that broke Ronny's paralysis, a smell so brutally strong and rancid that his eyes watered and burned.

Cringing, he leapt upward, hands grasping the sides of the wall, clutching the slimy dirt. He slid back down. Felt the creature's breath on the back of his neck. It was close enough to bite him, but for some reason, it didn't. Instead, it raised its clawed hands and swiped. Dodging the razor-sharp talons, Ronny jumped again. This time he found purchase. He managed to get both arms out of the tunnel, grabbed a piece of wood on the shed floor, and pulled himself up.

His head emerged from the chasm, then one shoulder, then both.

Suddenly, pain ripped through his ankle. He looked down. The creature's claws were flaying through the skin, and his white sock and shoe had both turned red. It burned-- a white-hot, searing agony. The monster looked up at him and grinned. Its small eyes grew larger, bulging from its head. Screeching, Ronny slid backward, his fingers slipping in the dirt.

“No, no, no, no ...”

The creature lashed out again, slicing through the denim and into his calf. Despite the burning sensation in his leg, the monster's grasp was ice cold. Gritting his teeth, Ronny pulled himself up higher, kicking out with both feet, freeing himself again. The thing in the tunnel grunted, then roared in anger. Ronny kept pulling. His fingers burrowed deep into the dirt, trying to maintain his grip. His chest lay on the shed floor now, followed by his waist.

Blood dripped from his wounded leg in bright red ribbons.

And then the thing spoke, and somehow, that was more terrifying than its appearance.

“You have invaded my home. Forced me to break the commandment.”

Ronny tried to answer, but found that he couldn't.

There was a jingling sound from outside the shed. Keys. The lock jiggled. The doors swung open and a bright flare of brilliance temporarily blinded the screaming teen.