Brian Keene: Entombed

“See?” I hissed. “You wanted me to find you and I told you I would. Here I am, baby. You told me to look for you.”

Alyssa punched my shoulder, but I barely felt the blow.

“This is what you wanted, right? You wanted me to look for you? Or maybe you were looking for me? Or was it other men you were looking for all along? Like when we divorced. Remember that? We signed the papers and you updated your Facebook status from the parking lot outside the lawyer’s office. You’d just got done telling me that you loved me, and you were sorry it didn’t work out. Then you changed your status to single, and said you were interested in dating and looking for men. Who does that, Alyssa? Who goes from ‘I love you’ to ‘Hey, anybody on Facebook want to fuck?’ that quickly? Is that how you met Jose? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Alyssa didn’t respond. For a second, I got pissed off at her reticence, but then I realized that she probably wasn’t answering because I was choking the shit out of her. I thought about letting go, but found that I couldn’t. My fingers refused to obey. It felt good to squeeze her neck, so I did it some more. Her eyes grew wider. I clenched my teeth. My lips pulled back in a snarl. Saliva dripped down my chin and landed on her forehead.

“You played me, you bitch. Don’t deny it. You got me to do all your dirty work. You were just as unhappy in our marriage as I was, but you didn’t want to be the bad guy, so you played that passive-aggressive bullshit on me. Did it for so long, hoping I’d leave. Got me to fuck up so that you’d have an excuse to leave me. You couldn’t just be honest. You had to make me be the one to lie and cheat. Fucking coward.”

Alyssa struck at me again, raking her fingernails across my cheek. I gasped at the pain, and tore my head away from her reach. My cheek stung and felt warm. I put all of my weight into my knees and tightened my grip around her throat even more.

“I could have had a good thing with Hannah. She loved me. She actually fucking loved me. I didn’t have all the history and baggage with her that I have with you. I hadn’t lied to her. We could have made it work. But you couldn’t let me have that could you, Alyssa. You took her away from me. Made me turn my back on her. And then you went right out and hooked up with this… this Jose.”

Spittle flew from my lips as I said his name. Alyssa’s struggles grew weaker.

“You were looking for men? Well, you found one, Alyssa. You found a man. Congratulations. Here I am, and I’ll never let you go again.”

I kept squeezing, even after she’d stopped moving. I didn’t let go until her bladder and bowels did the same. Then I stood up quickly to avoid the mess—too quickly. The room began to spin as I gained my feet, and I reached out to steady myself and found only empty, unforgiving space. I tottered forward, stumbling, and my foot came down on Alyssa’s face. I glanced down and saw that she was no longer Alyssa, but Susan.

“Oh, shit. But… but that—”

Something warm and wet tickled my neck. I reached up to touch my face and found four long claw marks running across my cheek where Alyssa had scratched it. I looked back down at Susan’s left hand. Her nails were bloody. There was skin beneath them. My skin. My blood.

“But…”

I didn’t recognize my own voice. It was whiny and weak. Indecisive. I hated the sound of it. I stared at Susan, confused. Then someone else called out from the hallway.

“Susan? Are you okay?”

It was Phillips. Without turning around, I recognized his voice. Unlike mine, it was strong and certain and defined. Still staring down at Susan, I reached for the screwdriver in my back pocket. The door swung open and Phillips, still speaking, stepped into the pharmacy.

“Susan? Chuck wants you to come back. I thought I heard—”

He stopped, gaping at us both. His gaze kept darting from Susan to me and then back down to her again. When he opened his mouth to shout, I charged. I clamped my left hand over his mouth, muffling his cries, and shoved him against the wall. Phillips tried to knee me in the groin, but I sidestepped his attack and thrust the screwdriver deep into his stomach. It made a farting sound as it punched through skin and fat. His eyes went wide and he took a deep breath through his nose. I felt the air rush over my fingers. Phillips tried to scream again, but I mashed my palm tighter against his mouth and stabbed him again. Phillip’s moaned through my hand. His teeth grazed my skin. They felt dry, like the scales of a reptile. His skin, by contrast, was slick with sweat, and I had trouble holding him in place as I stabbed him a third time, plunging the screwdriver into his abdomen again. Phillips shuddered against me. Warmth flowed over my knuckles as I pulled the screwdriver free. Phillips’ legs buckled and he started to sag forward. Grunting, I shoved him back against the wall.

“Where is she?” I asked. “Where’s Alyssa? What did you guys do with her?”

He mumbled through my hand and tried to shake his head. I squeezed his mouth harder, digging my fingernails into his cheeks.

“Don’t try to deny it, Phillips. I know she’s here. Now where is she, you son of a bitch? Tell me.”

Phillips moaned.

“I bet Chuck has her, doesn’t he? The sick fuck is building himself a little post-apocalyptic underground harem. And you were going to help him, weren’t you?”

Eyes-wide, Phillips tried to shake his head. I rammed the screwdriver into his stomach again. He whined. I liked the sound of it. His voice was no longer strong. He sounded like I felt.

“But now I’ve fucked up your plans, haven’t I? Killing Susan like this. But that’s your fault. You guys tricked me. Made me think she was Alyssa. Tried to pull an old switcheroo, didn’t you? Well, I’m wise to you now, and I’ll find her. You just watch, Phillips. You just watch.”

It didn’t take much effort to hold him there against the wall. I could feel the strength draining from his body as I spoke. I raised the screwdriver and twirled it in front of his face. The fluorescent lights sparkled off the crimson tip.

“You just watch.”

I jammed the screwdriver into his eye. Phillips jittered and bit through his tongue as spasms rocked his body. I stood there, relishing the feel of the tremors running through his body and into mine. They were like electrical currents. Fluid pumped from the ruined eye socket. Most of it was blood, but there was clear stuff that looked like water. His fingers drummed the wall. Then he went limp. His full weight pressed against me. If he hadn’t been half-starved, he’d have probably knocked me over. I could feel his ribs rubbing up against me through the fabric of his shirt. Pushing him away, I yanked the screwdriver free. Phillips dropped to the floor, dead.

I stood there for a moment, catching my breath. I wondered if anybody else had heard our struggle, but the corridors remained quiet. I debated hiding Phillips and Susan’s bodies, but I was too tired and there wasn’t enough time. I had to find Alyssa and save her. I had to save us both. I had to save our marriage and make things right again. In truth, I was worried. I hadn’t heard her voice since killing Susan. What if I was too late?

I stepped back out into the corridor, and passed by the incinerator room, media room, lounges, dorm rooms and the pharmacy. My nerves were taught with tension as I crept along. With each step, I expected Chuck, Emma, Nicole, or Damonte to leap out at me, brandishing clubs or knives or bricks. The overhead fluorescents reflected off the white linoleum floors like sunlight on the ocean, and made my head throb. The drab, gray concrete walls seemed to shimmer and move like heat mirages. I stared at them, convinced that the walls were breathing. Maybe the bunker was alive. Maybe I was in the belly of the beast.