Part 18 (2/2)

Once inside, she held her breath and tried to keep still. It was pitch dark and cold in the crawl s.p.a.ce. The roof of the house was only three feet above where she sat, so she couldn't stand up. She scooted down the crawl s.p.a.ce over what she a.s.sumed was the center of her bedroom. The fishy smell became stronger as the things hammered at the door and walls of the bedroom. She thought maybe if she crept along the attic crawl s.p.a.ce, she would reach the other opening into the guest room. She knew the things probably couldn't hear very well (what little she knew about reptiles and amphibians, which she a.s.sumed they were, stemmed from two snakes she used to have; a Boa Constrictor and a Burmese Python that an old boyfriend helped himself to when he left her). Even then, she was still careful to evenly distribute her weight on the plasterboard so it wouldn't come cras.h.i.+ng down through the ceiling. Every time she s.h.i.+fted her weight, tiny creaks and b.u.mps echoed through the enclosed s.p.a.ce, but these were m.u.f.fled by the sounds of the destruction below. She got no farther than the center of the s.p.a.ce when she heard the door crash open.

She froze. They began moving through her bedroom, tearing apart furniture in their search for her. She remained frozen as the skin on her face p.r.i.c.kled; she recognized the sensation of a spiderweb across her face. She bit her lip, a tear rolling down her check. She hated spiders, and the thought of not being able to move because those things might sense it made the ordeal even more frightening because what if the spider in question was one of those large garden spiders that she detested and it was now crawling around in her hair?

Don't think about that!

She remained motionless, trying to quell her fear as the cras.h.i.+ng below suddenly evaporated into total silence.

The creatures had destroyed everything in the room and were now silent, sniffing at the air. The scent of blood was in the room, and it was strong. The squealing prey was still somewhere in this s.p.a.ce, and they could sense it. The scent of it was strong, its blood scent was strong, its- One of them raised its webbed, scaly hand and pointed at the open closet. The others followed it to the small opening.

Stacy heard the creatures move below her toward the closet door. She s.h.i.+vered, her brain telling her to move now. She obeyed, crawling again toward the inner reaches of the attic.

The creatures hissed at the bloodstains dotting the floor and clothing in the closet. They tore through the clothes in search of the squealing prey, knowing that nourishment was there somewhere. One of the creatures carried a rusted whaling harpoon it had carried from the ocean floor, and used the sharp instrument as a prod, poking it into the boxes and clothes, tearing the contents to ribbons. The squealing prey wasn't hiding amid the rubble.

The creatures turned to each other and bleated, their communication strong and singular. The one clutching the harpoon looked toward the ceiling and spied smears of blood around the square panel. Its olfactory senses picked it up even keener, the taste of the blood on its Jacobinson organ creating a mad blood l.u.s.t. It reached up and touched the panel, pus.h.i.+ng it up. It opened and fell into the crawl s.p.a.ce. A grunting of what appeared to be satisfaction welled from the rest of the creatures and they surged forward...

Stacy was almost where she thought her bedroom ended when she heard a sound behind her. She stopped and turned around. The door to the panel had been flung aside and she gasped in horror as she saw a green-scaled hand clawing at the edges of the tiny trapdoor. She squealed and scrambled frantically down the crawl s.p.a.ce, heading into the farther recesses of the attic.

The Dark Ones sniffed at the cold air, grimacing at the open s.p.a.ce in the ceiling. They could sense the blood stains around the opening, but their heat sensors weren't picking up the prey. It had moved elsewhere.

The Dark One that thrust its arm up eased itself down and grunted. The creature with the harpoon jammed the instrument through the hole, stabbing at the air. There was nothing up there. The prey had moved away from the opening. They moved away from the closet, eyes trained on the ceiling, trying to get a read on any heat that may be radiating out, as well as the taste of blood...

Stacy saw the harpoon poke through the attic entrance and she whimpered. She scuttled along the attic, her back aching from the confinement of the crawls.p.a.ce. The splintered wood from the crawls.p.a.ce floor barely registered in her brain as she crawled along her stomach. The dripping blood from her leg wounds mingled with the dust and cobwebs underneath her. A small drop of blood found a tiny crack and seeped in.

The creature with the harpoon sensed it first. Tiny dots of blood, barely discernible to the naked eye, were sensed by the Dark One's immense olfactory nerves. The trail was faint and led away from the bedroom. They followed it, and the creature with the harpoon stopped and stood underneath the scent, staring up.

Nostrils dilated and gills slapped like wet leather. They could sense that the prey was right above them. A chorus of eager croaks and hisses rose in the air.

The Dark One with the harpoon hissed and thrust the weapon up into the plasterboard ceiling. Chips of paint and plaster dust rained down on the pack of slithery beings.

As well as something warm and wet.

Stacy didn't have time to react as the sharp end of the harpoon came punching up through the floor of the crawl s.p.a.ce and into her stomach.

She started, trying to crawl away. There was no pain, but she felt paralyzed. She couldn't move. She tried to scream but no sound issued from her throat. She felt her mid-section grow numb, as well as the slight sensation that her mid-section had been snagged on something sharp. The taste of bile rose in her throat and her energy was momentarily zapped as she tried to move away...

The Dark One yanked the harpoon down violently and was rewarded by a red-hot shower of delicious human body fluid. The creatures crowded around, webbed claws scrabbling up, lapping up the blood that poured down. The creature with the harpoon moved the tool around as if it was stirring a vat of food and tugged. A smidgen of blood-crusted pink emerged from the hole the harpoon had punched through, and the Dark Ones emitted a throaty chorus of approval.

The creature with the harpoon noticed it and tugged again, revealing the object to be a piece of intestine. Webbed claws shot out and gripped the hanging morsel tightly. The creatures tugged and fought over the intestine, pulling it down as they scrambled for it, some yanking pieces off and stuffing them into their mouths.

The largest one looked up at the quivering rope. More of the organ came spilling through the ragged six-inch hole with each tug. The Dark Ones bleated and croaked in frenzy. The large creature pulled again. More intestine slithered down like a b.l.o.o.d.y, skinned snake.

Stacy screamed as her guts were yanked painfully from the wound in her belly; the numb sensation had now turned into a fiery burn that was hot and painful.

She managed to get up on her hands and knees, looking down in horror as more of her came sliding out and down the hole. It looked like a huge piece of spaghetti going down a drain.

Razor-sharp pain exploded in her body. Her senses fought for control with the residue of the many acid trips she'd taken over the years. It was as if her synapses were exploding in bright ranges of colors and sensations all at once, only to be overruled by the here and now. She wanted the acid side to win, wanted to retreat into the nice, colorful world that the drug created. She wanted to nestle in the electric fields with the dancing pumpkins and friendly clockwork animals.

Unfortunately, the other side won.

Stacy felt each rip and tug with crystal clarity. Each jolt of pain shot through her like a bullet. The coppery taste of her blood filled her mouth as the overpowering stench of rotted fish, seaweed, and excrement invaded her nose.

In a final desperate attempt, Stacy grabbed onto the rope of intestine with both hands. The gus.h.i.+ng blood made her fingers too slick, and the organ wiggled through her fingers like a soaped-up eel.

A few agonizing seconds later, the last few feet of her small intestine left her body. She felt empty, the pain becoming white hot, then blossoming into another feeling, one of numbness again. She marveled at the amount of guts tucked into her small frame and wondered if a doctor would be able to pack it back in. An involuntary giggle died as blood spilled from her mouth.

The connecting tissues in her body pulled taut. Stacy felt her body lurch forward, and then she was abruptly jerked face-first into the dust. A moment later there was a snap as the tissue broke.

Her senses began to dim. She heard the plasterboard under her crack and give way. Another pull. Her spine snapped as her body folded in backwards. She felt herself falling, and the m.u.f.fled feeling that was coming over her blossomed with bright flashes and colors and muted sounds. A face swirled in the fog that was rapidly swirling around her, enveloping her like a blanket.

Kirk.

He was smiling.

She smiled back.

The shadows from the fog engulfed her.

Chapter Twenty-Four.

At some point he must have fallen asleep.

Rick awoke with a start, eyes blinking rapidly as he took in his surroundings: the gray walls of the cell, the grimy bars that kept him from the outside world, the huddled figures outside the cell...

He lurched up, swung his legs over the cot and rose to a wobbly stance. The air was still and cold. It was still dark outside and he had no idea what time it was. How long had he been asleep? He rubbed his eyes and made his way to the bars. Janice and Bobby lay huddled together on the floor on the other side of the bars. Rick checked them out, fear rising sharply as he realized that they could be dead. He'd fallen asleep and the Dark Ones had broken into the office and slaughtered Janice and Bobby. They'd tried to burst through the bars of the cell to get at him, but the stainless steel bars thwarted them. That's why he was still alive and Janice and Bobby were- Lightly dozing.

Janice sensed Rick standing there and got to her feet. She rubbed her sleep-crusted eyes. Her features were heavy with fatigue, yet she offered him a smile. ”I must've dozed off.”

Rick returned her smile. ”Guess we all did. I didn't think that was possible, but...”

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