Brian Keene - Urban Gothic

Scar-Face howled in the darkness. Javier clambered to his feet, tossed the ear at her and then kicked her in the face. Her nose exploded beneath the sole of his shoe. He kicked again, catching her in the ribs. His third kick slammed her in the temple. The hapless woman went limp. Javier didn’t care. He was aiming a fourth kick when Scar-Face’s companion leapt onto his back. Her bloodied, swollen lips pressed against the back of his neck, but he felt no teeth. Javier realized that she was either too panicked to bite him or he’d damaged her mouth even more than he had first thought. One of her arms wrapped around his throat. The other clawed at his face. Her fingers sought his eyeballs. Moving fast, Javier stumbled backward, slamming her into the rock wall. Then he lurched forward and did it again. After several collisions, the hairy girl slipped from his back, unconscious.

Panting for breath, he studied them both. Their chests rose and fell slightly, but their eyes were closed. He didn’t think they were faking, but there was only one way to be certain. He cocked his head, listening. The tunnels were quiet. If the sounds of their battle had been noticed, then whoever was lurking in the darkness was remaining silent. Javier didn’t think that was a possibility, though. He was positive that they were alone—for now.

Kneeling, he leaned over the hairy girl, wrapped his bloody fingers around her warm neck, and squeezed. Her eyes shot open, bulging in their sockets.

“Auullkgh!”

The sound was not a word, though perhaps it was meant to be one. Javier did not know and didn’t care. His fingers pressed in on her carotid artery, and on the thick vein that mirrored it on the other side of her delicate, grimy neck. Both veins throbbed beneath his fingertips. He could almost feel the blood surging through them.

She tried one last time to get away and her fingers sank into his thighs as he squeezed harder still. He ignored the pain, and watched her, relishing the expression on her face when she realized that she could not breathe. Her swollen lips parted, and Javier increased the pressure. Every muscle in his arms and legs stood out. He shivered with strain. His sweat and blood from his wounds dripped onto her face and chest. Javier was dimly aware that he was panting.

The strong pulse under his fingertips slowed and stuttered and then stopped. Still, she tried to breathe. Still, he kept his grip firm. Her legs thrashed, kicking and flailing. She slapped and clawed at the floor. Javier maintained his vise grip and squeezed as hard as he could. His grin grew wider.

A moment later, she stopped struggling.

Javier held her a moment longer than that, then finally released his hold. The hairy girl didn’t move. Not satisfied, he seized her head in both hands and turned it to the side until her neck snapped. It was one of the most satisfying sounds he had ever heard.

He rested a moment with her corpse in his lap and caught his breath. He examined the cuts on his wrists. Both were bleeding, but not badly enough that he’d die or lose consciousness. Although the fight had reopened them, both wounds were clotting satisfactorily. They’d need to be cleaned and stitched later, but he couldn’t worry about that right now. His main concern was fatigue. He’d need to rest soon, if only for a few minutes. He listened again, but the tunnel remained quiet. The only sound was the unconscious Scar-Face’s low, shallow breathing. Javier shoved the hairy girl from his lap. Her corpse sprawled across the tunnel floor. He stared down at her and spat in her face.

Then he turned his attention to the other one.

He kicked and stomped on Scar-Face, turning her to jelly. He relished every breaking bone, every shattered rib, and every ruptured organ. He laughed when one eyeball spurted from its socket and when shards of broken bones tore through her flesh. Then, still not satisfied, he leaped into the air and jumped up and down on her corpse. Flesh and blood and hair matted between the treads of his shoes. Then he dipped his index finger in her remains, and used her blood to add two more slash marks to the scorecard on his arm.

When he was finished, Javier picked up the flashlight. His body trembled and ached. His teeth were chattering. He’d never felt more alive than he did at that moment.

“Ready or not,” he called, “here I come!”

He ran back the way they’d come, calling out for Scug to come and play.

***

Kerri grabbed the arms that had encircled her in the darkness and tried to dislodge them, but it was like trying to push stone. Although her assailant’s flesh was soft and slippery with sweat, solid, massive muscles bulged beneath the skin. They rippled as the creature squeezed harder. Kerri tried to scream but could barely even breathe as the air was forced from her lungs.

The thing laughed again. Its grip slackened just enough that Kerri had time to draw a breath. She inhaled the foul air it had just exhaled, and then the creature squeezed again, mashing her breasts and abdomen against its body. Her arms were now pinned to her sides. Her hands flailed helplessly.

“Hugs,” the monster rasped in an oddly childish voice. “I give you hugs.”

“Get . . . off. . . ME!” Her demand was half-scream, half-gasp, and it only seemed to amuse the creature even more. Its laughter echoed through the darkness, seeming to come from every direction at once. There was no hint of menace in its laugh. It sounded more like glee and wonder.

“Nice. Pretty.”

Kerri thrashed in the mutant’s viselike grip, shaking her head furiously back and forth, but nothing broke its hold.

“Kisses,” it said. “I give you kisses.”

“Oh, God . . .”

Something long and wet and smelling of sulfur and rotten meat touched her face, licking her eyes and then her nose and then slipping between her lips. She thought of earlier in the night, when she’d bitten a previous attacker’s tongue off, and steeled herself to do the same again, when the proboscis was suddenly pulled away. Stinking, hot saliva dripped from Kerri’s face.

“Stick you,” it panted. “I stick you now. I stick you in the wet place.”

Kerri closed her eyes, anticipating the thrust of a blade or other weapon into her body at any moment. Instead, she felt something warm and hard pressing against the fabric of her groin. Shuddering, she realized what it was.

“No!”

“I stick you now,” the creature repeated. “I stick you in the wet place.”

Its breathing grew harsher and more rapid. The length of flesh pressing against her crotch stiffened even more, seeming to pulsate in the darkness.

“Let me go,” she wailed. “Goddamn you, let me go. Don’t do this! Stop it!”

The creature froze, muscles locking up. It groaned softly, and then Kerri’s jeans grew wet. At first, she wasn’t sure what had happened but then she caught a whiff of something ammonia-like. Fishy. It reminded her of how sidewalks smelled after a rainstorm. She knew what it was. Under normal circumstance, the smell might have brought back fond memories of all the times she and Tyler had made love. Instead, it simply repulsed her.

“Uhhhh,” her captor groaned. “When you wiggle, I go boom.”

At least it can’t rape me now, she thought. It’s already shot its wad.

But then the penis pressed against her again, seeking a way inside her jeans, and Kerri realized that if anything, the creature’s erection had grown bigger.

“I stick you now,” it promised. “You not wiggle so much this time. You be good. I don’t want to go boom too early like before. Okay?”

Its tone was gentle. Almost loving. With a cry, Kerri ripped one of her arms free and slapped at the darkness, connecting with her would-be rapist’s face. Surprised, it released her. Kerri fell to the ground and backpedaled as quickly as she could. She was nowhere near fast enough. A massive hand seized her ankle and dragged her back across the floor. A moment later, she was being lifted into the air again. The fingers that caught her face were rough and callused, and stretched her lips almost to the point of rupturing them as they muffled her next scream.