Adrian Smith - The Rule of Three

Once an outgoing sixteen-year-old, Jack retreated within himself. Shutting away the world, he found solace and comfort in his books, his comics, his movies.

His mum sent him to see a psychiatrist. He went, begrudgingly. How could a stranger know his pain? Know his shame? Know his failing? His little brother was dead because of his error of judgement. His little brother was ashes in the wind because Jack’d been trying to impress his brother with his bravery.

But time heals all to a point, eventually. The psychiatrist helped Jack realise that it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t put the branch there. To think more on the times he’d shared with his brother, the love, the laughter, the joy they’d brought to each other.

So Jack buried the guilt and the pain deep, deep down. Never forgetting the memory of his little brother, he learnt to live with it.

His brother’s name had been George too. I’ll save this one…

Wiping away the tears, Jack stopped at the first door and listened. Not hearing a sound, he tried the handle. Locked. Cursing silently, he quickly moved on to the next one. After several locked doors, he found an unlocked one. Opening it, Jack saw it was a maintenance room. A workbench lined one wall, with a peg board above filled with tools.

He couldn’t hold back the exclamation that escaped his lips. Finally, a little luck. Grabbing some screwdrivers and a hammer, he jammed them into his belt.

If those things attack, at least I can go down fighting, give the kid a chance to run.

“What’s this, Mister Jack?”

Jack looked down at George. He had crawled under the bench. He was holding out a rusty old machete, its wooden handle so cracked and pitted that someone had wrapped red electrical tape around it.

“That is a very dangerous weapon,” Jack said, gently taking the machete out of the child’s hands.

“But I want something to fight the monsters,” George moaned.

Jack crouched down. “Okay, George, but let’s find you something more suitable.”

Jack searched the work area and found a tool belt. He placed it around George’s waist, adjusting the strap as small as it could go. He populated it with chisels, screwdrivers and a small ball peen hammer.

“If they come, you stab and hit them as hard as you can, all right?” Jack demonstrated the motions.

George beamed up at him and nodded.

He knew the tools wouldn’t do much good against those creatures; they were so damn fast, so ferocious. For that matter, he didn’t know how long either of them would last. But a little hope and something to live for goes a long way.

“C’mon, kid. I don’t know about you, but I want to get out of here.”

“Mummy?”

“Yeah, we’ll keep looking. Remember, super silent. If they come, run back to the red door and hide, okay?”

George pulled out his little hammer. “But I am Thor.”

In spite of all the horror, the fear scratching at him, Jack smiled at George. The kid’s resilience was incredible. He just wanted to find his mum.

“Okay Thor. Let’s go,” Jack said, still smiling.

As they approached the green door at the end of the corridor, the stench of rotting fruit became overpowering. Jack’s hand was shaking as he reached out and opened the door. Peering through the gap, he saw a sight that even the best horror writers’ minds would struggle to imagine. Not wanting George to see, he spun the kid around, stood in front of him, and blocked the child’s view.

Beyond the door, steel stairs descended into a cavernous area. Piles of bones, some with bits of tissue and sinews still attached, lay stacked in corners. Bits of people were strewn about, some half eaten. He could see torsos, arms, legs. Bones sticking out. One of the monsters was lying on top of a pile of intestines, covered in blood and plasma. Lining the walls of the room, severed heads in varying states of decay were on spikes made of bones.

In the deepest shadows of the room, Jack could see sleeping creatures. Some smaller creatures were nestled against some of the larger ones for warmth.

Jack paused, shocked. Were they breeding? Already?

He could see a particularly large stack of bones in the centre of the room. A throne of bones, reminiscent of one Jack had once seen in a catacomb in Europe.

The large mass moved. It was a massive creature, and plated bones protruded from its shoulders, forming spikes. A severed child’s head had been placed atop each spike, much like some sort of grisly trophies. Fighting the bile rising up his throat, Jack turned away, his mind reeling. He had seen this creature before. When they were captured. It hadn’t had the heads back then. The creature led, gave out orders.

Jack stumbled back, pushing George farther into the corridor. His eyes wandered lower. At the big creature’s feet, blonde hair flowed over a woman’s half-eaten body.

No! Sarah…!

Jack remembered, in a moment of clarity when he was drifting in and out of consciousness while trapped on the wall, that he had seen Sarah being taken. Taken for slaughter. All her past, present, and possible futures, snuffed out in an instant. In the end, she had become these monsters’ sustenance.

George started screaming. Jack spun round. The boy was standing in the doorway, looking directly at his mother’s remains.

As one, the creatures’ heads swivelled around to face the door. Terrifying screeches echoed around the cavernous room. With stunning speed and agility, they leapt from the floor.

Jack pulled George away and slammed the door. Jamming one of his hammers through the handle, he hoped it would stop them for a moment, enough time to get away.

Grabbing the still-screaming George by his hand, he sprinted up the corridor, back towards the room they had sheltered in.

Behind Jack and George, wood and concrete splintered with a crash. Half-turning, Jack saw the monsters piling into the corridor, screeching and howling, saliva dripping from their sucker mouths. Muscles rippled beneath semi-translucent skin. They spotted Jack and George and howled as they bounded towards them.

George reached the red door first and was pulling it open when the next door down opened. The man with the red trucker’s cap appeared, a stunned look on his face as he took in the unfolding chaos. Jack barrelled into him, taking him to the ground. The man bucked beneath him, shifting his weight in an attempt to throw Jack off. His hands flailed, desperate to get a hold on Jack.

Jack saw an opening and, without hesitation, rammed a screwdriver up under the man’s chin, burying it deep into his brain. The man’s eyes went wide with disbelief as Jack watched the life blink out.

Groping bastard!

A creature howled and leapt off the wall at Jack, claws extended. Jack twisted and threw himself through the door. But too slow. The creature raked its claws down his leg, tearing into his flesh. Screaming in pain, Jack stabbed down with the screwdriver, plunging it through the weird translucent skin and into its flesh. Gritting his teeth, Jack kicked out with his free leg, smashing the beast’s head. The monster howled in anger, and clawed and scratched at Jack’s torso. George, leaning over Jack, started whacking the monster on the head with his little hammer. The monster momentarily let Jack go to deal with this new annoyance, giving Jack the chance to kick out again. Freeing himself, Jack grabbed George, slammed the door closed and locked it.

Immediately, the creatures started throwing themselves at the door.

Throom, throom, throom. The sound of them hitting the door reverberated around the small room.

Ignoring the agony lancing up his body, Jack pulled himself to his feet. He knew the flimsy door and lock wouldn’t hold the monsters out for long. Hobbling over to the metal lockers next to the door, he tried to tip them over.