Brian Keene - Urban Gothic

Still listening intently for any indication that Noigel was on their trail, he held the phone higher, trying to see. The darkness wasn’t complete, but it was close enough. Javier kept his eyes wide and his attention focused ahead of him and used his right hand to feel along the cold, damp basement wall. His fingers trailed over cracks and crevices and tore through cobwebs. He ran into a corner and felt along it for a moment before deciding to go to the left. It made sense, as he was fairly certain the street was in that direction. Hopefully, so was the exterior wall of the house and maybe a set of storm doors or even a sewer entrance. It occurred to him that an old place like this might even have a coal bin or root cellar attached to the basement, points of access that had been necessary in the past. He just hoped that the freaks who lived here hadn’t blocked them up. There had to be another way out down here. Brett had overheard them say it, and it made sense. The things living here couldn’t very well stroll out the front door—not without everyone seeing them. There had to be a hidden exit.

But he wasn’t having much luck finding it.

“Shit happens,” he murmured, reciting his mantra but not thinking the others could hear him.

“Yes,” Kerri responded. “It does. And tonight, it’s happened to us.”

Javier was about to reply when the wall opened up unexpectedly. He stopped. The slight breeze grew stronger as it flowed from the opening. It held a musky scent, age and mildew and something else that he couldn’t easily identify. He felt along the edge of the opening and realized that he might have found exactly what he was looking for. Holding the cell phone high, Javier stepped forward and felt for the wall ahead of him. The wooden boards disappeared, replaced with a hard, packed clay surface.

“What the hell?” he spoke softly, but his voice carried more than he’d expected. Chastising himself for doing exactly what he’d gotten on Heather about, he reached out and touched the spot, seeking any indication that the change might indicate a broken section of wall or an exit. The breeze gusted against his face. Heather pushed closer to him. Her breasts slipped along his back and her hands moved up to touch his shoulders. Had he been facing her, they’d have been close enough to kiss.

“Sorry.” Heather’s voice was a sighed whisper. Her body turned sharply and her voice grew a note sharper.

“Watch it!”

Kerri’s voice was louder, even sharper. “I can’t. Brett’s wobbling back here. You okay?”

“Sorry,” Brett apologized. His voice was slurred. He sounded tired. “Lost my balance.”

Javier shook his head, pressing his lips together in irritation. He was about to remind them to whisper when a new noise came from somewhere far ahead of them, deep in the darkness—a long, warbling howl, a sound that made as much sense in the basement of a crumbling, inner-city Victorian home as cannon fire in a confessional. The howl didn’t sound like a wolf, but more like a human throat doing a poor imitation.

Javier froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt Heather jerk upright behind him, clinging tighter to his shoulders. Shrugging her off as gently but firmly as possible, he listened intently, trying to guess at the distance or even a general location of the cries. At a guess, the howls came from at least a hundred feet away and directly ahead of them.

“What the hell was that?” Brett’s slurred voice was terrified. The echoes rang through the basement.

Javier flinched again. “Everyone shut up.”

He listened to the still-reverberating echoes. They told him more than the howl had. There was some kind of tunnel directly ahead of them—a long tunnel, judging by the sound. Javier frowned, wondering why such a thing would be in a basement. Before he could tell the others his suspicion, another wail pierced the darkness, twice as loud as before.

And closer. Much closer.

It was followed by another cry. This one had a different pitch and inflection.

And then another sounded out.

And another.

There were at least five different voices in the darkness.

Javier closed his eyes. His skin prickled. The air blowing out of the wall turned foul.

Behind them, they heard the basement door open. The darkness lessened, cut into by the kitchen lights from above. Then the all-too-familiar heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs. Noigel voiced his garbled cry, joining the others.

“Oh shit,” Heather moaned. “We are so fucked.”

***

Brett had allowed himself to be distracted by the feel of Kerri in front of him. Yes, it was wrong. He knew that. Especially when his girlfriend and her boyfriend were dead, murdered, their corpses lost somewhere inside this hellhole. But thinking about her body, feeling the way her hips swayed against his hand with every step was taking his mind away from the throbbing pain shooting up his arm and throughout his body. He’d just bumped against her ass—and it had been an accident, but a nice one—and was apologizing when the first howl erupted from the darkness.

Suddenly he needed to pee very badly. The pressure in his bladder almost overrode the pain surging from the stumps of his severed fingers.

Although he hadn’t told the others, Brett was having trouble with his vision. He could see, but everything was a faded monochrome, a dusky black and white that leeched away all details and colors. Part of it was his injuries, he knew, as well as the deep sensation of lethargy and exhaustion that had overcome him since escaping the hallway. The almost complete darkness in the basement was another contributing factor. He didn’t like Javier’s idea about using only one cell phone, but he silently went along with it just like the girls, because Javier had obviously taken charge. Brett didn’t care. Let him. Logic was helpful on a chessboard, but in this house, it was a wasted effort. Nothing about this place was logical.

His eyes had finally adjusted as much as they were likely to, when the door crashed open behind them and the kitchen lights shined down the stairs. Standing at the rear of the group and closest to the stairs, Brett was momentarily blinded as his eyes struggled to cope with the sudden change. He listened to the footsteps and to the strange and terrible howls coming from both in front of and behind them, and did his best not to scream.

“What do we do?” Heather yelled, her voice frantic. “Javier?”

If he heard her, he gave no indication. Javier was silent, seemingly paralyzed by fear and indecision.

Our fearless leader is out to lunch, Brett thought. And Heather’s right. We are so fucked.

Logic dictated that they run, but where? Even as the howls drew closer, the footsteps behind them increased in speed. The staircase sounded like it was shaking. Kerri said something, but Brett couldn’t hear her over the intensifying cacophony. She turned around and faced him, her eyes nothing more than two wide smudges in her shadowy face. Her hand settled on his chest for a moment. She clutched a fistful of his shirt and sobbed. Brett nodded his head, realizing what had to be done. His fear evaporated as he embraced the inevitable. This was no more difficult than solving a trigonometry problem.

Kerri didn’t deserve to be here. She was already suffering enough. He could see it in her, how ruined she was by Tyler’s death and Stephanie’s, too. His face flushed red with anger. Kerri was a wonderful, sweet girl, and he didn’t want to see her hurt any more. She was a little bitty thing, and until today, he’d have thought her too small to defend herself. She’d proven that wrong, of course, going up against the thing that had bitten off his fingers. During that struggle, Brett had caught a glimpse of the strength inside Kerri, roiling beneath the surface. Such strength deserved to live on. She had too much yet to offer the world. She couldn’t die in this shit pile. Therefore, someone needed to give her—and the others—a chance to escape. That someone was him. It was logical, after all. He was severely wounded, in shock, and had lost a lot of blood. There was no telling how many different infections he’d picked up already, and the chances of reaching a hospital were getting slimmer with each passing second.