Brian Keene - Entombed

“Then stuff your goddamn speeches about doing the right thing.”

“I’m in a hard spot, Pete. We all are. Before Hamelin’s Revenge, I had a deep respect for people and humanity and everything that we could be. I still feel that way, although it’s doubtful we’ll rise up to our full potential anytime soon. But when this is all over, we’re going to need leaders. We’re going to need people to take charge and help rebuild civilization. It’s my responsibility to do better, to be better, to be the best of humanity—and hopefully we’re all part of something bigger.”

“So you’ll go along with Chuck just so you can stay alive long enough to get out of here and save the world?”

“If I have to, yes. And to stay alive for Carolyn.”

“Who’s that?”

Charles smiled. “Carolyn Sheffield. She was this hot goth chick back in the day. To be honest, I never thought much of her until this one day when we went record shopping at Smash! in DC, and she bought a copy of Minor Threat’s Out of Step on vinyl. We had this long, involved conversation about how the mixes on the album were better than the mixes on the compact disc. I couldn’t believe this hot girl and I were talking about the mixes of a straight edge hardcore band’s album, you know? I told her that I loved her. And I still do. Being stuck down here—it’s taught me what’s important. Somewhere along the line, I quit taking chances. I got used to working fourteen hour days and taking care of the people who rely on me and trying to make my father proud. He was a retired brigadier general. I would never let him down and nothing makes me happier than to make him proud of me. Sure, I had a mohawk until I started balding, but it was important to me that people take me seriously and believe in me. And that’s a fucking hard thing to do, but while I was focused on all of those things, I stopped doing things just for me. So when we get out of here—and eventually, I believe we’ll get out of here—I’m going to go find Carolyn.”

I laughed. “Now who’s crazy? You don’t even know if she’s alive, man.”

“She’s alive. And when I show up, she’s going to play that Minor Threat record, and kiss me, and all of this will have been worth it.”

At that moment, I realized that Charles had snapped. Maybe it was starvation-induced delirium, or maybe he had cabin fever from being locked up down here for too long, but he was obviously out of touch with reality. Slowly, I flexed my arms again, trying to loosen my bonds. Then I heard Alyssa. She sounded farther away.

“Pete…”

“I’m coming,” I muttered. “Just hang on.”

“What’s that?” Frowning, Charles stared down at me.

“Nothing,” I said. “I was just thinking about my wife.”

“I didn’t know you were married. You don’t have a ring on your finger.”

“Maybe not. But I am married. And when this is over, I’m going to make it right with her. I’m going to do better. You can help, Charles. We can help each other. You let me go, so that I can find Alyssa, and I’ll help you find Carolyn.”

“I wish I could.” His tone was wistful and apologetic. “Seriously, I do. But you’re sick, Pete. I know you don’t see it, but you are. I can’t let you go.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go back downstairs and let Chuck know that I captured you. When I left, he was holed up in the lunchroom with Emma, Nicole, and Susan. I think he wants them for himself. Damonte and Phillips were standing guard. I imagine they won’t be very happy when I tell them what you’ve done.”

“But don’t you see? We’ve got enough now to last us all year! Jim and George said you had a plan to rig something up in the incinerator room to smoke the bodies. Between that and the refrigerator, the meat will be okay. You guys don’t have to kill me now.”

“That’s Chuck’s call,” Charles said. “But to be honest, I can’t see keeping you alive. Not after all of this. Not after what you did to Drew and Dave.”

“Are they alive?”

“Dave still was, when I left, but I don’t think he will be for much longer. His skin…” Charles closed his eyes and shuddered. Then he opened his eyes again. I saw that they were wet.

“What about Drew?”

“Drew didn’t make it.”

“Good.”

“That doesn’t bother you? He was your friend.”

“Fuck him. Fuck all of you. Go get your cronies. Go crawling back to Chuck like a good little boy. Your father would be ashamed of you.”

He stood up so quickly that I flinched. Charles glared at me, his hands curling into fists. He trembled with anger, and a muscle twitched in his cheek. I cringed, expecting him to kick me, but then he relaxed his posture. Smiling, he calmly stepped over me and walked down the corridor.

“Go on,” I yelled. “Go find Chuck. And when you do, I want you to tell him something. Tell him that I’m going to kill every one of you motherfuckers before this is over!”

My shouts echoed down the hall. Ignoring them, Charles headed toward the power plant. I twisted and flopped, trying to get free of the wires, but they held fast. Charles disappeared through the door, leaving me alone in the corridor. I wiggled to one side and then the other, pulling my legs up to my chest and arching my back. Some of the tension in my bonds eased, but I still couldn’t get free. Frustrated, I rolled toward the wall.

“Alyssa? Help me.”

“I can’t. You have to do it yourself. If you want me back, then you have to prove yourself to me, Pete. You have to prove that you’re worthy. Find me.”

“Hold that thought.”

Gasping for breath, I paused when I reached the wall. In my struggles, I had rolled through a half-congealed puddle of Clyde’s blood. It smeared over my clothes and skin and got into my mouth and eyes and nostrils—but more importantly, it got beneath the wires, as well. After some difficulty, I was able to sit up, and when I did, I was surprised to find that my bonds were much looser. I still couldn’t free myself, but they were no longer so constricting. Pushing my back against the wall, I struggled to stand up. It was harder than I would have thought. I was weak and groggy and my head and mouth still hurt, not to mention that I was doing it without the aid of my arms. Eventually, though, I got myself upright. I stood there, leaning on the wall for support, and swayed back and forth. I experimented with my arms and shoulders and found that I could now stretch them about an inch from my sides. Still not enough to get free, but enough that I had a renewed sense of hope.

“Thanks for your help, Clyde. I really appreciate it.”

I turned away from him and closed my eyes, waiting for the dizzy spell to pass. I don’t know how much time went by. Maybe a minute. Maybe five. I think I might have lost consciousness for a bit. My eyes snapped open when I heard a faint skittering noise at my feet. A rat hurried by, running toward the skids. I was immediately reminded of Dude, my pet hooded rat from when I was in college. I hadn’t thought of Dude in years. Alyssa had made me get rid of him when we moved in together. I’d taken him to my parent’s house, and they’d looked after him until he died. I used to tell myself he died of old age, rather than a broken heart over the fact that his owner had given him up.

“Hey,” I whispered. “Dude? Is that really you?”

The rat stopped, stood up on its hind legs, and stared at me. It tilted its head to the side and twitched its long whiskers. I wondered where it had come from. In all my time working for the hotel, I’d never seen a rat or a mouse in the bunker. Had it been here all along, or had it somehow found a way inside the supposedly impregnable walls? I panicked for a moment, wondering if it was infected with Hamelin’s Revenge, but it didn’t look dead. Indeed, it looked very much alive—and well fed, too. Its belly was round and soft and had a cute little spot of white fur, just like Dude had when he was alive.