Brian Keene - Urban Gothic

“Why?”

“So that when we get out of here, I can show the police.”

Kerri stared down at the corpse. “You killed him.”

“Yeah,” Javier said. “I did. And please don’t give me any shit about it right now. He wanted to cut my fucking dick off. Not to mention that—”

“No,” Kerri broke in. “That’s not what I was going to say. I’m not arguing with you. But this isn’t the guy who killed Tyler and Steph. This is someone different. That means there’s more than one.”

The three teens stared at each other.

“H-how many?” Heather thrust an index finger into her mouth and began gnawing on the nail. As if in answer, another set of footsteps shuffled down the hall. The approaching gait was much stealthier than the midget’s had been.

And much faster.

Javier scooped up the knife and ducked behind the door. Kerri grabbed the club and flattened herself against the wall where Javier had previously been positioned. Heather melted back into the shadows.

Outside in the hall, the footsteps paused, then continued. Javier pressed his ear to the wall, listening. They paused again.

Somebody’s checking the doors, Javier thought. His muscles tensed. His palms grew damp with sweat. He tightened his grip on the knife handle and tried to remain still.

The footsteps continued down the hall, louder now. Then they paused again. The light shining into the room from underneath the door flickered. Then the door opened. An inch. Then two. Javier heard heavy, panicked breathing. The door opened a few more inches, and Javier flattened himself against the wall, holding his breath and sucking his stomach in so the door wouldn’t hit him. He had the sudden urge to piss. Javier gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it. He contemplated slamming the door shut on the intruder, but that would just leave them trapped inside. Better to let the lurker enter the room completely, and then creep up behind them and slit his throat. Javier could see it all in his head. The brutality didn’t shock him. Although he was scared, he had no qualms about the killings. This was survival. It was no different than a video game, except that now, if he died, he died for real.

With the door open, light flowed into the room, stretching across the floor. As the door reached farther. Alarmed, Javier realized that he could see both Heather and the dead midget’s feet.

So could the figure in the doorway, because the heavy breathing turned into a gasp

The intruder said, “Heather?”

Before Javier could register that the intruder knew Heather’s name, he lunged forward, slamming the door into his opponent. He pushed with all his weight, knocking the figure to the floor. The intruder grunted. Kerri charged out of the shadows, the club held over her head.

Before she could swing it, Heather shouted, “No!”

“Jesus Christ, you guys,” the figure on the floor moaned. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Gaping, Javier and Kerri stared down at Brett.

“Holy shit,” Javier said. “You okay?” Heather crawled out of the shadows, and Kerri lowered her weapon while Javier stuck out his hand and helped Brett to his feet.

“You okay?” he asked again.

Brett nodded. “I will be. Knocked the wind out of me.”

“Sorry about that. We thought you were one of them.”

Brett’s eyes widened in surprise. “You guys have seen them, too? The guy wearing a woman’s skin?

“We killed one.” Javier pointed. “Some kind of deformed dwarf.”

Brett walked over to the corpse, stared down at it, and shivered.

“No,” he said. “This isn’t one of the ones I saw.”

While he told them about Noigel and the other killer who’d been wearing a suit made out of a dead woman’s skin, Kerri shut the door again. They huddled closer together in the darkness, whispering to one another.

“So you heard him say they’re hunting us?” Javier asked.

Nodding, Brett removed his glasses and wiped the lenses on his shirt. Then he put them back on and pushed them up with his index finger.

“How many?”

“I don’t know,” Brett said. “He mentioned something about more of them being down below, too.”

“A basement?”

Brett shrugged. “I guess. He mentioned that it was the only way out. We were in such a hurry when we broke in here, and it was dark out there. I didn’t notice if this place had any basement windows or not. Did any of you guys?”

Kerri and Heather shook their heads. Javier cleared his throat and then checked his cell phone again, hoping for a signal. There was still nothing. He cursed softly in Spanish.

“Do you still have your phone?” he asked Brett.

“Yeah, but there’s no service in this place. It’s like they’re blocking it or something.”

“So what do we do now?” Kerri asked.

Javier realized that they were all staring at him. Somehow he’d become the leader. He reached out, pulled Heather toward him, and held her close. He kissed her forehead.

“How’s your foot? Can you walk?”

“Yeah, it’s better.”

“Hang on a second,” he told the group, and then walked over to the corner. Shivering, Javier pulled down his zipper, freed his penis, and aimed for the wall. The others couldn’t see him in the darkness, but he knew they could hear him, because he heard Kerri make a disgusted sound a second later. Javier shook himself, zipped up, and returned to the group.

“Did you really have to do that here?” Brett asked.

“Yeah, I did. And while I did, I was thinking. We can’t go out the way we came in. Obviously, we need to find another way out of here. I don’t know about heading down into the basement, though. They get us down there and we might be cornered. Maybe we should look for a back door or an upstairs window.”

“The upstairs windows are probably blocked off, too,” Brett said.

“Maybe,” Javier agreed. “But we don’t know for sure. Fact is, we don’t know shit, and we’re gonna continue to not know shit until we leave this room and find out for ourselves.”

“You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“Yeah, Brett, actually, I do. Because it’s your fucking fault we’re in here in the first place.”

“Dude, maybe it hasn’t occurred to you, but I just saw my girlfriend’s brains get bashed out all over the fucking place!”

Javier edged closer to him. “Which wouldn’t have happened if—”

Heather patted Javier’s shoulder. “That’s not helping.”

“We could just stay in here,” Kerri suggested. “Hide. It’s dark in here. Those lights out in the hall don’t penetrate that far into the room. We could stay against the back wall and hide until someone rescues us.”

Javier paused before replying, choosing his words carefully. “Listen. We’re on our own here. Nobody knows where we are. Our folks are all sleeping. Chances are they won’t even notice that we’re missing until tomorrow morning. We might not have that long. We can’t rely on anyone else. We have to rely on ourselves.”

“But the gangbangers,” Kerri protested. “Somebody must have called the cops when they chased us. Somebody will notice Tyler’s car.”

“I doubt it. The car is probably stripped by now. And I don’t think this is the sort of neighborhood where people call the cops right away. We’ve wasted enough time. While we stand here arguing, they could be coming down the hall. Everybody find a weapon—anything at all—and then let’s get the hell out of here.”

They quickly searched the room. In addition to Javier’s knife and Kerri’s makeshift club, Brett found a long, jagged shard of broken glass. He tore off a small strip of his shirt and wrapped it around the shard to avoid cutting his fingers. Then he clutched it like a dagger. Heather found a brick. She carried it daintily, as if unsure what to do with it.