Brian Keene: Urban Gothic

Fingers crossed, Perry strode across the floor and tapped on the plywood sheet covering one window. It was solid. He checked the second window. The plywood covering this one was streaked with mildew and mold, and moist to the touch. Holding his breath, he shoved the sharp edge of the crowbar against it. The blade sank into the wood easily enough.

Perry started to cry. He turned to Leo and Dookie, tears of relief streaming down his dirty cheeks.

“It’s rotten. Not all the way, but enough that I think I can get it off.”

They stared at him blankly, as if not understanding what he was saying.

“We can get out,” Perry whispered. “Through the window. Come here, boys. Quickly now.”

Dookie’s stunned expression crumbled, replaced by one of numb disbelief. Leo seemed unsure, as well. But they did as he asked and crossed toward him. They stood there, arms at their sides, looking at everything but Jamal.

Perry jammed the crowbar between the barrier and the wall, and wiggled it back and forth. A small chunk of wood broke off, splintering. He let it fall to the floor and pried off a bigger piece about the size of his fist. Grinning, he attacked it with abandon, no longer caring if he made any sound. They’d be free in minutes.

He’d cleared about half the plywood away, exposing a little less than half of the window before hitting solid wood. After that, his progress became harder. Because of how it had been constructed, Perry found it difficult to get any leverage. He began to grow winded.

“Damn it.”

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked. “Why’d you stop?”

“The rest of it is solid,” Perry gasped. “I can’t get it loose.”

He wiped sweat from his brow and studied them both for a moment. Then he turned around and tried unlocking the window hasp. It was rusted into place and wouldn’t move. Instead, Perry smashed the glass out of the portion of the window that they could see. Immediately, a cool breeze washed over them. To Perry, it was one of the most pleasurable sensations he’d ever experienced. He turned back around again. Leo and Dookie’s expressions were terrified.

“Somebody’s gonna hear that glass breaking,” Leo scolded. “You’ll lead them right to us.”

“I know,” Perry said. “That’s why we’ve got to do this quickly. Dookie, you’re the only skinny enough to fit through that window. Go for help.”

“You’re fucking tripping, Mr. Watkins.”

“Don’t you get smart with me, boy.”

“Who you calling boy?”

“We don’t have time to argue, Dookie. Get out that fucking window and go for help. The police must have arrived by now.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Leo said.

Perry sighed, exasperated. “If they haven’t, then tell my wife what’s happened. Tell her to call 911 again and stay on the line with them until somebody comes. She’s got to make them send somebody. And then, while she’s doing that, you start banging on doors and waking people up.”

“And tell them what?”

“Tell them that we’re fucking trapped in here with a bunch of psychos. Tell them to get their torches and pitchforks, just like in those old monster movies, and bash that fucking door in! Now get going, Dookie.”

Still wide-eyed and stunned, the nervous teen peered out the window. Then, swallowing hard, he nodded.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

“You’re damn right you will,” Perry grumbled. “Just hurry. And be careful. You won’t do us much good if you break your neck on the way down.”

“I’m on it, yo.” Confidence crept back into Dookie’s voice. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

Perry and Leo hoisted him up and helped him through the hole. They watched his head disappear, then his shoulders and chest, and then the rest of him, until finally, Dookie was outside on the arched roof. He turned around, pressed one hand to the remaining glass, and then crawled away. They watched him leave until the darkness ultimately swallowed him.

“Think he’ll make it?” Leo whispered.

“He damn well better,” Perry muttered. “Now let’s get back downstairs and find someplace to hide, before any more of them show up.”

They left the room and slowly made their way back down the hall to the top of the stairs, listening as they proceeded. There was no sign that Jamal’s death or Dookie’s escape had attracted any more attention. The house was utterly silent, as if holding its breath.

As they started down the stairs, Perry wondered what would happen when it exhaled. What would come crawling out of the woodwork looking for them?

twenty-two

There was nowhere left for her to go.

Kerri had searched, trying to find an exit from the endless, confusing network of tunnels, but with the darkness and the predators haunting her every step, finding one had been impossible. And so, in the long run, she chose to go for the only exit that she was sure existed. An unreasonable exit, but a way out all the same. She chose to return upstairs, to the house where everything had started, and hope that she could find a way past the barricaded entrance and the traps and the wooden walls that had appeared from nowhere. She had no idea what had happened to Heather and Javier, but she feared that they were dead. If they were alive, she reasoned, then she’d still hear them screaming.

Her legs shook with exhaustion. The scratches and cuts on her body ached. She felt feverish, and her mouth was parched. Miserable and numb, Kerri shuffled onward. Her heart seemed to echo in her chest as if she’d been hollowed out. And in a way, maybe she had been.

She’d seen her boyfriend and her friends slaughtered tonight, and in return, she’d killed and survived. There was no way she’d ever be able to return to the life she’d had before the concert. That life was dead. That old Kerri was dead, lying on the floor alongside Tyler and Steph with her brains bashed out.

She would survive, yes, but could she live with her survival? That was the question Kerri considered as she moved along cautiously, listening for sounds of pursuit or any possible hint that her friends were still alive. Instead, the caves were unsettlingly quiet.

Kerri emerged from a tunnel and after a moment, she recognized the landscape. She was back in the cavern that connected to the basement. She breathed a sigh of relief. It looked and sounded deserted. The rest of the killers must be searching for her deeper in the catacombs. All she had to do now was make it upstairs and then find a way outside. And if she couldn’t do that—

—well, if she couldn’t do that, she’d return to the room on the first floor where she and Javier had originally hidden. That was a safe place. The freaks hadn’t found them there. She’d go back to that room, curl up in the darkness, and just go to sleep for a little while. When she woke up again, things would be better. She’d be able to think clearer.

Smiling at the prospect, Kerri began softly humming the beat of a song from the concert they’d seen earlier in the evening. She crossed the cavern, not bothering to be furtive or cautious. Nothing could touch her now. She had a hiding place in mind, and she’d be okay.

It wasn’t until her humming turned into quiet giggles, that Kerri realized what she was doing. Stifling herself, she shook her head, trying to clear it. A new wave of terror washed over her. Was she crazy? Had she snapped? Or was this just some kind of delayed shock—a bizarre reaction to the pressure of the situation? Kerri became aware that she was trembling and that her arms were wrapped around her shoulders, squeezing tightly. She’d twirled her hair with her fingers and then chewed on it, the way she’d done when she was a little girl. She forced herself to stop it and tried to shake the dread threatening to overwhelm her.