Brian Keene - Urban Gothic

It had to be him.

Check and checkmate.

All of this went through his mind in seconds. Brett didn’t say it aloud, of course. Kerri, Javier, and Heather wouldn’t have been able to hear him even if he had told them. The strange sense of calm deepened as he prepared himself. The pain racking his body went away, turning into nothing more than a distant hum, like the drone of a gnat hovering around his face, too small to bother with, more of an annoyance than anything else.

Noigel’s footsteps plodded across the basement floor, each one reverberating like a shotgun blast. Brett turned to face him and immediately wished he hadn’t. For one split second, his resolve almost shattered. Noigel was a massive shadow amidst the darkness. He seemed to glide toward them. Brett could make out the huge hammer clutched in one hand. Other than his footsteps, the giant moved silently. He made no more cries or howls. Brett couldn’t even hear his breathing. Steeling himself, Brett stood his ground and risked a glance behind them. Several humanoid shapes emerged from the darkness. Unlike Noigel, they weren’t silent. If anything, their frenzied howls increased as they drew closer. In the dim light of Javier’s cell phone, Brett couldn’t make out much about them, except that they varied in size and shape. Some were of normal height and weight. Others were diminutive in stature, like the thing that had attacked him. A few were tall like Noigel, but thin and scraggly rather than possessing his girth. One seemed obscenely obese, lumbering forward in a see-saw–type motion. All of them shared one common characteristic—even in the darkness, they were brutal looking, predatory rejects that moved in slowly and carefully and with an almost palpable self-assuredness, taking their time and jockeying among one another for position.

Perhaps it was their appearance that snapped Javier out of his trance, or maybe it was Kerri and Heather’s frantic, pleading screams. Whatever the cause, Brett saw the steely determination return to his expression. Javier snapped the cell phone shut and stuffed it in his pocket. For a second, Brett didn’t understand why, but then Javier explained.

“We’re gonna run straight past them,” he said. “There’s a tunnel up ahead. That’s got to be the way out.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Heather shrieked.

“It’s the only way. We’ll run in the dark. They can’t see us if we don’t have a light.”

Brett shoved Kerri forward with his good hand. “Move! Get away! Get the fuck out of here. I’ll distract them. Run!”

Kerri jerked with each word as if he’d slapped her. She stared past him, watching Noigel’s approach in the glare from the kitchen lights, her eyes wild and terrified, her lips peeled back in a feral grimace that looked too much like the freaks menacing them.

Then Noigel laughed. The sound was deep and guttural, and boomed across the basement like artillery blasts.

Brett’s resolve shattered. Thoughts of logic and sacrifice and heroism fled as he shoved her forward again. He forgot all about Kerri’s hidden and remarkable reserves of bravery and strength. Forgot all about his sympathy for her. He was not a hero. He had never been the sort to consider others before himself. It wasn’t in his nature. He wasn’t truly thinking of Kerri or any of the others as he pushed her forward a third time. He was just trying to get them all moving, because instinct told him to flee, and there was no way he could get through them without falling on his ass. Unable to hold it anymore, his bladder let go, and the front of his pants grew warm and wet.

Brett was aware of Noigel as the hulk loomed behind him and came to a halt. The madman’s massive form blocked the remaining light. The loathsome stench roiling off him was overpowering, cloying around Brett like a smoke. Brett didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. His feet felt like they were stuck in concrete. He stared straight ahead, watching Kerri’s expression as she looked up and over his shoulder, her eyes impossibly wide, her mouth open to scream but no sound coming out. He watched as the rest of the freaks fell silent, then charged, moving low to the ground and loping toward them en masse. Brett blinked as one of the creatures did the impossible and leapfrogged over the others, diving through the air, narrowly missing the ceiling as it jumped. He sighed as Javier charged forward to meet the attacker, shouting challenges in Spanish. Brett smiled slightly as Heather and Kerri ran.

Then a massive hand grabbed his hair and jerked him backward, and all Brett saw was the ceiling. He tried to scream, but only managed a gobbling choke as Noigel jerked his head back even farther. Brett felt like he was being bent over backward. Then he got a good look at the giant’s face. The hulk’s mouth was open, smiling, and bloody saliva dripped onto Brett’s face and ran into his eyes. Noigel’s breath was like an open sewer. His bald, misshapen head seemed to be surrounded by a halo of kitchen light, and his round, black eyes glittered with malicious glee. It leaned closer, drooling more foul saliva into Brett’s gaping mouth. Instinct took over and Brett’s hand came up in a fast arc to block the flow. He realized as it rose just how foolish he had been, but it was too late to stop the reflective action. Brett’s wounded, bloodied hand slammed into Noigel’s face, leaving trails of crimson on the waxy, pocked flesh. He felt his stumps bend backward. Pain jolted through him, electrifying his raw nerve endings. Grunting, Noigel jerked him off his feet with one hand and swung him through the air by his hair, turning round and round like a top.

Then the creature let go, and Brett felt himself sailing through the darkness.

Mercifully, his vision—already weak from the surrounding darkness—completely failed before he slammed into the basement wall, and although he felt his bones snap and heard his skull crack apart, he did not see the red explosion his impact made or hear the wet sounds of his brains splattering across the stone blocks.

TWELVE

Leo stood suddenly, hitched up his sagging pants, and addressed the others.

“Fuck this shit. I’m tired of just waiting around for something to happen. I’m going in there.”

His friends gaped at him. Mr. Watkins seemed bemused. He exhaled smoke and stared at Leo, as if unconvinced of his sincerity and waiting to see what Leo would do next.

“For real,” Leo said. “I ain’t playing. This is bullshit. What Mr. Watkins was saying? That shit is true. People down here don’t give a fuck anymore, and that’s a big part of the problem. And the cops don’t give a shit either. It’s our neighborhood. We need to deal with it. If not us, then who?”

“Go ahead,” Markus said. “My ass is staying right here and waiting for five-oh.”

Leo shook his head, disgusted. “Let me ask you something. How would you feel if it was us in there? How about if we took a drive out to Amish Country or some shit, and our car broke down, and we were trapped inside some old barn? Wouldn’t you want someone to help us?”

“Yeah,” Jamal said, “but they called us niggers, yo. I say the hell with them. They can rot, for all I care. You know what I’m saying?”

“True that,” Chris agreed. “All we were trying to do was help them.”

Dookie and Markus nodded.

Leo impatiently waved them off. “Man, they were scared. And it was only the one guy who called us that—the Poindexter-looking motherfucker. The others just ran away. In hindsight, I can’t say as I blame them. We were pretty pissed off after he called us that.”

“So why you want to help them?” Dookie asked.

“Because it’s the right thing to do. Don’t you get tired of people assuming we must be drug dealers, just because of where we live or how we look or dress? Don’t you get tired of not doing anything to change our situation? This is a chance to make a change—real change, not that bullshit the politicians go on and on about.”