by: Slakalot
NOTE: This is in response to a challenge from the Black and Buckskin list group. Theme: The Seven - or at least Chris and Vin - come face to face with the legendary,mythological, or unique (made up) creature, monster, demon or ghost of your choice...
Vin gave his wet hair a final rub with the towel and flung it towards the door. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he reached over and turned off his alarm clock. He didn’t need to get up tomorrow at any particular time. He planned to spend his Sunday sleeping and kicking back. After the week he and his team had had, he needed a rest.
Climbing into the bed he lay a moment, sinking into the blessed mattress before stretching his legs out and letting out a satisfied groan. He knew sleep was minutes away and smiled in contentment. There was nothing better than sinking into your bed when you were bone tired, he thought, as he felt the tension flowing from his body, sinking into the fibres beneath him.
It had been a long day – and night. He hadn’t really felt like going to Buck and JD’s for a video night after the gruelling week they had faced with long surveillance shifts, but he’d let Chris talk him into it. JD had been excited about a horror movie marathon for weeks in the build up to Halloween.
Vin had never liked horror movies, hadn’t watched one since he was a teenager and had caught Poltergeist on TV. It had freaked him out for years. He still shuddered when flicking through channels at night and finding static on a station. Whenever a video ended there was a mild panic to flick the TV back to a live channel in case that horrific grey static came on. He shuddered again and looked to the light shining through his window, offering a semblance of comfort from his runaway dark thoughts.
A moment later he was frowning as he rolled onto his stomach, flicking his head to shake the still damp hair from where it fell across his face. He should be asleep by now, not thinking about scary movies, damn JD! He put his arms up under his pillow and sighed again, in his mind letting the tension flow again from his body, seeping into the pillow beneath his head, into the sheets, the mattress, spilling through onto the floor.
The room shrouded him in its darkness, basking him in quiet. Blessed quiet… Then he heard it. The high-pitched, yipping sound of a dog going mad over who knew what in the middle of the night. He took a deep breath, giving it time. Maybe it was just startled for a moment and would quiet…. No, it had friends now, there was a canine street party in the works in the alley down from his apartment. Feline adventurers joined the frey until the cacophony of sound was drawn to an awesome crescendo. He could picture the jamboree of animals kicking their heels up, delighting in awakening the entire neighbourhood.
“Shut the hell up!” Came a loud cry, then the sound of a window slamming shut and a child’s wailing grief, woken no doubt from a blissfully unaware sleep into the noisy reality that was Purgatorio at 3am.
Vin rolled again onto his back, one hand resting on the warm skin of his chest. He heard the animal raucous outside pick up again with the introduction of a siren sounding in the distance. Sighing again, he realised he needed to go to the bathroom and debated whether or not he could sleep through the urge. A minute later saw him throwing off the covers in frustration, cursing beer to hell as he padded his way in the dark across the room.
As he passed the small window, his lean body, completely naked, was illuminated by the full moon shining through the glass, penetrating the blinds and finding the curves of his skin, defining his muscle and picking up the moisture still lingering in his hair as he moved.
His own room for nearly two years now and he still managed to wack his elbow on the door frame going in to the hallway, cursing harshly as he continued on, growing pissed off now, his exhaustion and crankiness warring for supremacy.
He threw an arm out when he reached his target, leaning on the wall and closing his eyes as he relieved the pressure that had gotten him from his bed, finding himself picturing again the movies he had just watched. JD had insisted on the eighties classics, forcing them to endure watching Johnny Depp be sucked into his bed and spurted all over the roof as Freddie Kruger did his evil thing. Vin thought fleetingly that if he didn’t get to sleep soon, that may just be a welcome alternative. His bed seemed to offer as much comfort tonight as the one in the movie had.
Ezra had protested what he called “pathetic and cheesy attempts at evoking fear” and insisted they throw in at least one classic for the night. Vin had to admit, watching these movies now had given him relief to realise that the fear he remembered as a kid was just a child’s fear. The movies had little chance of scaring an audience now, which was constantly exposed to magnificent destruction and over the top violence and death. Ezra’s killer “Raven” had turned out to be more of a laugh than anything else. He smiled as he turned the light off and headed back to bed, thinking of JD’s open horror at discovering Ezra’s movie was in black and white.
Sitting back on the bed he paused for a second, he’d heard a noise in the hallway… He reached over and turned on the lamp by his bed, looking to the door to his room as if half expecting a raven to fly in and crow loudly. That was the problem with those movies, you may not be upset watching them at the time with your buddies, but later when you were alone, just you and your psychotic imagination… that was a different story.
He cursed and flicked the light off again, throwing himself onto the bed and pulling the covers over, cursing Ezra, damning JD, swearing hard at Chris who had given him the lecture about not disappointing the kid on Halloween. Chris had stayed at Buck’s on the couch. He’d thought about staying there too, but hadn’t drunk much and thought he’d have a better chance of finding sleep in his own bed.
Again he closed his eyes and began to drift. He felt a little chill down his spine and put his arms under the covers, pulling the blanket up under his chin until it almost covered his mouth. Everyone knew, of course, if Freddy Kruger –was- going to attack you in your sleep with those long blade hands or an axe, the covers would be able to deflect the slicing blows with their magical properties.
Sleep…sleep… yes…
*WOOF!*
“DAMMIT!” Vin sighed loudly and rolled over again, pulling the pillow up over his head and squeezing his eyes shut.
Sleep! Arrgh.. Precious, illusive sleep…He was just trying too hard. He had to relax… Turning onto his back he sighed again, relaxed.. thinking nothing. Thinking thoughts about thinking nothing… Thinking he should stop thinking about trying to think about nothing and that he knew it was too hard to stop thinking… thinking… Thinking about ravens, thinking about a school bus full of kids and a pizza faced guy behind the wheel…maybe it was all the cheese on the pizza they’d eaten for dinner.
He thought maybe he’d dozed off but became aware of an intense laser beam of light penetrating his closed lids. There was a blinking to the side of his vision. Peeling a weary eye open he looked left. Blink... Blink... Blink...
In one foul sweep he threw out an aggravated arm and managed to collect the lamp, the telephone and the offending clock radio with the display lights of a 747 that were flashing into his face like a landing signal, knocking them all to the ground in a messy, tumbling heap. Funny how he’d never noticed the dastardly clock before…
With a groan of despair, he reached over the side of the bed and collected the lamp, placing it back on the nightstand. He found the clock radio next and pulled its plug out, before placing that, too, back on the stand. Next he found his phone and just as he placed the handset back in the cradle, jumped a good foot as it’s ring screamed into the darkness, still held in his now shaking hand. Thinking that phones sometimes did that when you hung them up wrong, he placed the receiver to his ear anyway, holding it in a death grip and listening in the darkness, his heart pounding.
Nothing…
“Vin?”
“Chris?” he said in relief, letting out the air he’d been holding in a rush.
“Yeah, it’s me. Who were you expecting? You up?”
“Too bad if I 'aint,” he said, running a hand though his hair. “What time is it anyway?”
“Four o’clock. Where’s your clock?”
“I killed it.”
“What?”
“What’s up?”
“Can’t sleep. I’m going for a beer.”
“Now?”
“Soon’s you get here. Only one way I’m getting to sleep tonight and that’s if I’m unconscious.”
“You could always ram your head into the wall. Poke your head into Buck’s room, the smell’d probably knock you out by about now.”
“You coming or not?”
“Yeah.” Of course he was going, Chris knew that.
“You wanna come here? We can walk round to McGinty’s that’ll be open.”
“OK. Gimme ten.”
Vin hung up the phone and got out of bed. He smiled now, the pressure of not having to sleep like a burden gone. He found his jeans where he’d thrown them across a chair and padded around, pulling on a white t-shirt, finding socks and hopping around, pulling his well-worn boots over them. He found his jacket and pulled up to Buck’s exactly ten minutes to the minute.
Kicking his stand down, he took off his helmet and hopped off his bike. He was putting his keys in his pocket when he caught a shadow moving to his left. Turning his head, he scanned the deserted street, seeing nothing. Frowning, he gave one last check into the darkened corners, before he continued on and buzzed the apartment, only to find Chris was already downstairs and waiting for him.
“You really wanted out of there, huh?” he said, smiling.
“Buck’s snoring could wake the dead. I wasn’t getting any sleep tonight, that’s for sure,” Chris said, smiling himself now that he was out of the apartment.
“To the bar, then,” Vin said, turning towards the direction of the local bar.
“To the bar.”
They walked in silence for a minute before there was the crashing sound of what sounded like a metal trash can being knocked over and they both turned towards the direction of an alleyway.
They stopped, waiting for more sound to follow.
“Just a cat,” Chris said, shrugging it off.
“Hmm..” Vin said, still looking into the alleyway, hesitating.
He paused a moment longer before continuing on next to Chris. Chris threw him a sideways glance, a slight smirk on his handsome face under the dim glow of the streetlight they were passing.
“You’re jumpy this morning.”
Vin looked at him, ready to defend himself and caught the smirk. “I’m overtired, everything seems unnaturally sharp right about now. Sharp and blurry at the same time,” he mused.
Chris laughed. “I know what you mean. Damned if I could sleep, though. It was the weirdest thing. I was so tired but I had buckley’s chance of really sleeping, just tossing and turning on that diseased couch of theirs.”
Now Vin laughed, picturing the old sofa in Buck and JD’s apartment. “If ya got hungry there would’a been a few corn chips down the back of it to snack on.”
Chris remembered Buck throwing corn chips into his mouth the whole night like a sideshow clown with ping-pong balls. He missed half the time and was continually brushing the crumbs off of his stomach and onto the couch. Chris scratched his chest unconsciously, thinking he still might have a few pieces of the corn shrapnel stuck to his skin. The approached the next corner, the bar was just around it.
Suddenly there came a loud scream from behind them. Both men jumped and instinctively pressed themselves to the wall, turning to the source of the danger. They waited, again expecting more noise to follow the initial startling sound, waiting for movement.
“What the hell was that?” Vin whispered in a raw voice. His nerves had been on edge all night, he was starting to think he was losing his mind. But at least Chris had heard it too.
“Don’t know. Sounded like a woman.”
They waited a second more before cautiously heading back down the street to investigate. They looked into the adjoining alley and around the few cars that were on the side of the street, but could find no clue as to where the noise had come from.
Vin looked at Chris, frowning slightly, to which Chris gave a small shrug and turned back the way they were headed.
“Bar,” was all he said and Vin gave one last look around before following.
“Boys, haven’t seen you in here for a while,” McGinty himself said as he saw the two ATF agents make their way into the smokey, dark tavern that was McGinty’s at any given hour of the day. Defying all attempts at illumination by electricity or sunlight, the place was a veritable cave. The odour of stale beer and smoke was ingrained into every fibre of the interior. From the brown, faded carpet that was the resigned host to thousands of cigarette butts, dropped drinks and peanuts over the years, to the very ceilings, the place smelled like a leftover party from 1965… and the locals who went there loved it for that very reason. Authenticity. Character. Comfort.
The original corner pub’s had slowly disappeared over the years, destroyed and painted over with modern, trendy drinking establishments for the young urban working class. This seedy dwelling with its boisterous, Irish bartender/owner was a place that prided itself on never forcing anyone out of their comfort zone. The occasional brawl only added to the evening’s entertainment.
“Been busy Gint, been dreamin’ ‘bout it though,” Vin said, smiling to the grey haired man who was well into his fifties and loving every minute of it.
“I’m sure ye have, son, but that’s not puttin’ yer money ‘cross my bar now is it? Where’s yer loyalty? Yer support of local business?” he asked dramatically, in his customary loud voice that woke up sleeping patrons in the dark corners.
“Vin’s got no money, Ginty, you know that. You ever seen him actually buy a beer?” Chris said, taking a stool in front of the bartender.
Bruce McGinty frowned thoughtfully, crossed an arm over his barrel-shaped chest and put the other hand to his chin, appearing to think about the question. “Hmm.. cant recall ever bein’ witness to that, ye may ‘ave a point there,” he smiled at Vin’s mock protest.
“You fella’s are privileged to have me here,” Vin told them both seriously. “I up the quality of the patronage, give the place some class.. hell you should be payin’ –me- for sittin’ here!” he told the man.
Ginty turned away with a snort and grabbed two beer glasses. "Don't ye be gettin' wide with me son," he said, smiling as he turned back to the two men and placed the glasses under the nozzle, turning the tap. A whooshing sound erupted followed by a kickback of froth as the last of the keg threw itself down the line.
“Always me,” Vin complained, removing his jacket and hanging it over the back of his stool.
Turning away to go replace the keg out the back, Ginty chuckled. “You got the devils luck, boyo, no doubt about it. What’s that, second time runnin’ that’s happened?”
“Third,” Chris said, thowing Vin a dirty look.
“And that’s my fault,” Vin protested, reaching over the bar and grabbing a packet of peanuts, ripping the foil off and holding the packet to his open mouth, drinking them in.
Seeing Chris’s raised eyebrow, he held the packet out to him. “Nut?”
“Maybe another packet.”
Vin passed Chris another packet of peanuts and after a few minutes waiting called out, “Hey Gint, ya brewin’ the beer back there?”
Comfortable on his stool, he turned to Chris as he reached for another packet of nuts for himself. “I’ve been thinking,” he started, “about that second movie we watched.”
Chris smiled, he knew Vin didn’t like horror movies and hadn’t wanted to go there and watch them. He’d sensed his trepidation all week. He thought of the movie Vin was referring to, IT. He would never tell Vin, but that movie had caused him the odd scary moment or two after he’d seen it years ago.
Damn that clown in the movie to hell. That was one scary character… You just don’t go and do a thing like that with clowns. Clowns are everywhere. He remembered years later, someone had given Adam a doll when he was little. A clown doll. A red haired, scary son of a bitch clown doll. What was worse, his son had seemed to bond with the hideous thing right away.
Sarah had laughed at him, although he’d denied the clown was getting to him. He’d see it poking out of the blankets by his sweet little boys face, he’d see it trailing along in his innocent child’s fingers as he pulled it along by its grotesque hair… the damn thing was everywhere. When Adam had tried to take it in the bath one time, it was the last straw. Vision’s of Stephen King’s terrifying horror clown came flooding back.. *We all float down here… down here we float…*
The next morning the clown was missing. There was a brand new colourful glowworm resting next to Adam’s head on his pillow, but they never found that clown again. Sarah couldn’t believe he’d thow away his own child’s beloved toy, but had teased him mercilessly about it. For years after, she’d bring it up with a whispered “Down here we float!” into his ear. Her light, airy laugh coming out, the laugh that could breathe life into his very soul.
Still, even with all the baggage he carried with that movie, he gave Vin a neutral face.
“Which one was that?” he asked.
“The one with that mutant clown thing.” Vin said, throwing an impatient glance to the store behind the bar. How long did it take to change a keg?
“Oh yeah, that one. I don’t know. IT… I think,” Chris said in a flat tone, causing Vin to raise his own eyebrow suspiciously.
Vin looked at Chris’s blank face and remembered how he had so graciously offered to go and pick up the pizza’s, rather than wait for a delivery, just as the movie had started.
“Yeah, “IT”, that was it… I was thinking about that clown…. What was it’s name again?” Vin said, frowning in concentration.
“Pennywise,” Chris said and Vin could almost feel his friend’s spine shudder.
“The name of the movie you ‘aint sure about… and yet you know the clown’s name?” Vin asked.
Chris tried to look confused. “What the hell are you going on about?”
“You didn’t even sit through that one, you took off for an hour to get pizza, we could have baked our own by the time you got back. Then you took off again… where’d you go anyway?”
“I was right there,” Chris said. “What’s your point, what were you thinking about the film for?”
Vin noted Chris’s attempt to change the subject and discarded it quickly. “You’re scared of the clown.”
“I am not scared of the clown,” Chris said, getting fidgety now. He sat up and peered behind the bar. “Ginty’s taking a while, huh?”
Vin got up and moved around the bar, Ginty –was- taking a while. “You’re scared of a red-haired, yellow-toothed, movie clown!” Vin said, going to investigate.
“Like you and the little girl stuck in the TV set,” Chris said, attempting a switch to offense.
Vin whirled back to face Chris, one hand on his chest in theatrical protest. “I told you that in confidence!” he said in mock indignation.
“And I haven’t betrayed it.” He waved an arm around the bar, “No-one heard me.”
Vin frowned, then pointed to an old man sitting in a darkened corner. “-He- might have heard you." He lowered his voice. ""A word to the wise from your friend Pennywise..." You don’t know who that man might be,"” he said.
Chris laughed and fought back the chill those words brought to him. “A sheriff of darkest fears, undercover as a late night bar punter?… hmm ya think he might be?”
Vin turned and headed for the back of the bar again, calling out, “Least I admitted it! 'Aint no shame in bein’ scared of a clown!”
He disappeared behind the door to the small storeroom where the stock was kept.
“I am NOT scared of that FUCKING clown!” Chris yelled after him, reaching over for a bottle of whiskey and pouring himself a shot. Throwing it down in one gulp, he mumbled to himself, “and it’s a fucking scary clown.” He shuddered again, thinking of that red head, those long mutant fingers…
Vin entered the storeroom and adjusted to the brighter light. The temperature was freezing with the cooling system working day and night to keep the small area refrigerated. On each wall were shelves stacked with bottles. The kegs sat in the middle of the floor, their hoses sticking out like tentacles, tripping their owner over at least once a night as he tried to manoeuvre around the small space with his well-developed girth. He’d invested many a year of beer drinking and eating bar snacks to achieve the paunch he had going. People were often surprised by how hard his stomach felt if you touched it. It was a testament to his willpower, he often thought. Years of dedicated gluttony and slothfulness were accumulated in that gut.
Vin didn’t see any of the stock and equipment in there that night, though. He didn’t see the colourful bottles, didn’t even feel the cold any more. His entire focus was centred on the gruesome site that assaulted him from the centre of the room.
“What the-“ he whispered, not yet able to find his voice. He stared blindly at the red liquid, which covered almost everything in the room, trying to comprehend. There was so much of it, it was hard to determine where it was coming from. Was it blood? It made no sense. “CHRIS!” he yelled, his breath frosting out before him as he spoke.
Chris ran to the storeroom, having heard the panic in Vin’s voice. He, too, stopped dead in his tracks as he took in the unreal sight before them.
“I can’t make it out,” Vin said, eyes darting around the room, trying to find the source of what looked to be blood.
“Ginty?” Chris called, turning and poking his head back out of the doorway. He moved back into the room and they both moved forward into the cramped space.
Chris felt a drop on his nose and wiped a finger over the spot, looking at his fingers.
Vin saw the red liquid on Chris’s fingers then looked up to the smear of blood on his nose. Together they looked up, their heads rising at the same pace, slowly and with apprehension, seeking an answer.
“Oh my God…” Vin said, unable to close his mouth, his breath catching in his throat, “Chris-“
“I see it,” Chris almost whispered, so great was his horror. Both men took a step back towards the door.
Bruce McGinty hadn’t been a small man, by any means, but was now reduced to nothing more than an empty skin, his life’s blood seemingly pulled from him along with any matter of substance that held him together. It was as if someone, -something-… had pulled the meat from his body, rather than skin him from the outside. The clotheless skin seemed to be intact, still in a bizarre fashion of a man as it hung from a pipe across the cool room ceiling, like a deflated plastic doll. His eyes looked straight down at them from the wrinkled pale skin, covered in blood and gore. His grey hair hung down about his face, catching in the air being pumped from the air conditioning unit near the roof.
“What the hell happened to him?” Vin whispered, taking another step towards the door. He heard the squish beneath his feet and looked down, new horror descending swiftly as he realised they were standing in a river of Ginty’s blood.
“I have no idea,” Chris whispered back, edgy, horrified, wanting to get the hell out of there.
“What could do something like that?” Vin asked again.
“I don’t know, lets-“
Bang.
Both men half whirled to the door, now closed, behind them. Neither was completely willing to turn their backs on the room, fearful that something was going to jump out at them.
Chris stepped forward to the door and reached out to turn the handle, keeping one eye on the room.
“It’s locked,” he said, giving it a hard yank and then tugging with everything he had.
“Locked?!” Vin said, his voice raising a notch in growing horror. “We’re locked in a room with a skinned corpse, an air conditioning unit set to Antarctica, a-“
“Floor full of beer,” Chris said darkly, trying to throw his friend off his line of escalating panic.
Vin stopped, mouth still open as he looked from his friend to the door.
“Take it easy, Vin, we’ll get it open.”
Vin breathed out again, his air puffing out in a frustrated icy cloud. He glanced back at the room, taking in the blood again then looking up once more to the deflated skin, the lifeless eyes…
“Let me at the door!” he said suddenly, turning and pushing forward to take charge of the locked barrier.
Chris moved aside and looked again at the room. What the fuck had happened here? And where was McGinty’s body? There was blood, skin… no interior, no –meat-. Chris shuddered again just thinking the thoughts in his head. This was insane. This couldn’t happen. Not in the time the man had been back here. How could his skin remain intact like that?
“Fucking, door… bastard…Rrrfff!”
Chris turned back to his desperate friend. “Here, let me try this,” he said, pulling his pocketknife out.
Vin moved aside, letting Chris through. He shivered and put his arms around his body, wishing he hadn’t taken his jacket off and trying to find any warmth he could in the freezing temperature of the room. Seemingly of its own volition, his head turned back to the grizzly scene behind them. The light bounced off the shiny metal of the beer kegs, making the slick blood glisten and shine.
Chris hadn’t picked a lock for a while and this one was proving particularly difficult. Whether his hands were shaking from the cold or the shock of the discovery, he wasn’t sure, but if he didn’t get that lock open soon, they were either going to freeze to death, or Vin was going to give in to a full on claustrophobic attack.
“Chris?” came a whispered voice, almost inaudible.
Chris froze, his body still facing the door and turned his head ever so slowly to look at Vin.
“What?” he whispered, fighting to keep his voice calm.
“Can you hear that?” Vin asked.
Chris listened and heard nothing. “Relax Vin, I’ve nearly got it.”
Vin frowned, ignoring his friend’s advice as he strained to hear the noise again.
There! Like a harsh whisper of sound crawling across the room. Like a taunt…
“Chris,” he whispered again.
“Shh, Vin, I- Shit!… Nearly had it…” Chris blew out a breath of frustration and started anew.
Vin took a step towards the wall the doorway was situated on. The air conditioner was housed above Chris’s head and to the left. He approached it slowly, cautiously…
** Come closssser…!! **
Vin stopped dead in his tracks and looked up. Eye’s… he could see yellow eyes, lit from what seemed like an unnatural glow from within their very depths. He flicked a glance at Chris, knowing if he spoke again his friend would shush him once more. Hadn’t he heard it? The raw, whispered, mocking voice? Clossser, like a snake…
** Hahahahahahaaaa ** …
“Chris!!”
“What?!”
“You can’t hear that? Look! Look up there!” Vin indicated the air conditioner with a lift of his chin.
Chris looked up, saw nothing. “What?” he said impatiently.
“Eyes. There’s… something up there.”
“Legionnaires disease most likely,” Chris said, returning to the locked door.
Vin stared hard into the air-conditioning unit, trying to make out the eyes he’d seen again when he felt something fall on his shoulder, slapping past his head in a cold, wet drop of skin and ice. The short cry that wrenched from his throat was completely unstoppable.
Chris whirled and saw the problem immediately. Ginty’s arm had fallen down and had flopped onto Vin’s shoulder. The distorted limb looked like it was reaching out to the younger man in death, a silent, terrified plea for help. Help… against –what-?
Vin stepped away from the hand and darted his gaze between the blood, Ginty, Chris and the air conditioner. The walls were so small, it seemed to him they were moving inwards.
“There!” Finally Chris turned to Vin in excitement, pulling the door open.
Vin watched the look of triumph on Chris’s face and surged towards the door. Thank God, at least they could get out of here. Once they were out of that freezing room they would be able to piece this craziness together. His smile wavered a little as he had another thought. He had to go to the bathroom… again. “Now?” he thought to himself. He stepped up behind Chris, not intending to stay in the room a second on his own after Chris had left it.
As Chris began to pull the door open to exit the room, he found himself suddenly forced back into the room from a powerful shove from the other side of the door. As he stumbled backwards, he could see the door being pulled closed again and dove forward, reaching it too late to stop it from closing. He tugged on the handle, but it was already locked.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Vin said, trying to accept the loss of freedom once more, trying to control his escalating heart rate again.
Chris turned to Vin in frustration. “This can’t be real.” He pointed to Ginty’s shell, still hanging above them like a flag of doom. “-That- can’t be real!”
**Come closssser**
Vin spun towards the air conditioner again. He was cold, tired, his nerves were so raw he was ready to jump at anything. Only now, the fear and the horror were turning into something else. Anger. He looked at Chris.
“What?” Chris said, seeing Vin looking at him expectantly.
“You really can’t hear that?” Vin asked.
“Hear –what-?”
“Dammit!” Vin took a step towards the unit. “Who the fuck –are- you?” he said to the yellow eyes he could no longer see. “Show yourself you little creep!”
“Vin…”
“It’s in there, Chris, watching us. I saw it before. It’s yellow eyes watching us, laughing at us.”
Chris looked at Vin, trying to assess his mental state.
“Show yourself you bastard! What the fuck are you?!” Vin shouted now at the invisible creature.
“There’s nothing-“
**I love you, you love me…** came the sing-songing voice.
Instantly Vin’s mind conjured a giant purple dinosaur. “Sweet Jesus…” he whispered, eyes wide in horror.
“What?” Chris said, noting Vin’s pale complexion. “What is it?”
“That’s too damned far… YOU GO TOO FAR!” he yelled at the metal grate. First Freddy Kruger, then the IT clown, then visions of Barney, all in one night? How much could a man bear and stay sane?
“Calm down, lets try the door again.” Chris said, trying to distract his friend, who was for all he knew, losing his mind.
**Can you see me, Vin? I’m here, your friend…closssser**
Angry now to the point of violence, Vin gave a small shout and grabbed the closest unused keg. He rolled it quickly under the grate and climbed up, eye level now to the unit.
Chris threw a look up to Vin, gave his head a small shake, then returned his attention back to the lock and getting it open.
“I’ll show you closer, you bastard. Here! Here I am, doesn’t get much closer than this does it? Come out, stop hiding in there!”
Vin knew he was losing it, at least he knew that as he shouted into a freezing grate in the pre-dawn hours of a Sunday morning, trying to coax an invisible monster to reveal itself.
“Vin…”
Vin turned to look at Chris, hearing the warning in his quiet voice.
“Behind you,” Chris said, willing Vin with his eyes not to make any sudden moves.
Vin, still standing on the empty keg, turned his head slowly to look behind him. He ignored the blood, the bottles, the hoses that ensured a matrix of beer flow from the room, until his eyes rested on what Chris was seeing.
“Don’t move.” Chris said, taking a small step forward.
Vin swallowed. He couldn’t move if he tried. This wasn’t real, he told himself. Things like this didn’t exist… and then he felt it again, that urge to go to the toilet weighing in his bladder…he ignored it and stared at the creature before him, unable to look away. A more frightening thing he had never seen, not in real life, not in a movie, not in the darkest recesses of his mind.
Almost reaching his own height, it was a pale yellow mass of skin, wrinkled and misshapen, sagging from limbs in some places and stretched tight in others. It had no hair that Vin could see, just mismatched patches of skin, as if it was sewn together like a patchwork quilt. Some places were bulging inside the folds of skin, some places hung loose and empty, but it was it’s eyes that held you immobile. Twin yellow slits of pure terror, glistening in the light, complimenting the skin to give an overall reptilian affect. The burst capillaries within them caused them to leak blood out and over the lip of skin underneath the orbs, like red tears of blood down the beast’s face.
Where the creature’s nose should have been was more of a sunken hole, a dark indent like a pushed in snout that added to the monstrous appearance that lacked any form of symmetry.
Vin still didn’t think he’d taken a breath. Nothing had moved in the room in what seemed like forever as the three living beings all stood silently assessing one another. He was about to step back off the metal barrel, not entirely sure his legs would succeed in the task, when suddenly the distorted mass began to emit a terrible sound from its throat.
They could see the muscles beneath the almost luminescent skin working, pulling a noise forth from inside almost painfully, the result a harsh, keening wail. As the mouth began to widen, both men watched on in silent terror, trying to block out the awesome sound that seemed to permeate into ones very nerves, stimulating them to perform a macabre dance.
It started as a small opening, the tight, yellow lips pulling back to reveal a slit into the unknown, then the dark hole in the face grew wider. Larger still the hole grew, skin shifting and pulling, revealing a cavernous opening larger than a man’s head.
“Fuck’n hell,” Vin said, moving back to the ground and stepping back towards Chris and the door again.
Chris didn’t take his eyes from the freakish site for one moment, but reached behind him and put his hand on the door handle again, desperately praying for a miracle in finding it open. He twisted the cold metal in his hand, feeling it move just a fraction before it clicked audibly in denial.
When the mouth was extended as far as it would appear it would go, they saw the skin surrounding it start to quiver, small waves of aftershock rippling through the creatures entire body until it became one massive, writhing mound of flesh and still the eerie noise grew louder.
“We gotta get out of here,” Vin said, like Chris, not looking away for a second.
“Grab some bottles there,” Chris said, moving his head a fraction to indicate the bottles on the shelf right next to Vin.
Vin grabbed two and handed Chris one, gasping in renewed shock as he watched the transforming monster before them. The sickly yellow skin gave one last shudder and then the noise coming from the black mouth built to a fevered pitch. The lips parted further still and the light began to pick up on movement within the massive mouth. Slowly, yellow slivers of light began to reveal themselves, exposed by the parting lips, coming down from the roof and base of its mouth. Sharp, deadly teeth, yellowed in colour to match the skin, began to take form, growing to unnatural proportions until they filled the entire crevice of the mouth.
“Holy hell,” Chris said faintly. There was no longer any question as to what had attacked the barkeeper.
Vin shot a worried glance at Chris. “Holy hell?” he thought to himself. Had Chris really just said that?
Appearing to have finished readying itself for attack, the creature’s eyes widened and studied the two victims before it. It’s outer eyelids never closed but the two men could see an inner, milky film of skin blinking periodically. Appetite never sated, its thirst for human meat was an unquenchable life mission. It began to move forward, not the most graceful of creatures, but capable of taking life more efficiently than any other living being.
Chris and Vin saw the ungainly limbs begin to carry the creature forward. Both now were resigned to an inevitable battle for their lives. There was no escaping the room. They would have to overcome this throwback of nature if they wanted their freedom.
Only feet now from the humans, the mass of skin and teeth paused. Shaking its overly long arms it began to make its tragic sound again and Chris and Vin watched again as its hands began to quiver. From the ends of its limp, sausage-like digits, the skin tore away, revealing what looked to be teeth, beginning to extend from inside the skin. Longer and longer they grew until they were the same proportion as the ones in its mouth. The noise stopped suddenly and Vin held his breath. This was it.
With a silent communication, both men flicked their hands and as one, smashed the bottles in their hands, holding on to the jagged, potentially deadly necks of glass and facing off with the deadly creature before them.
Vin didn’t even see the hand that snaked out and slashed his chest, leaving deep trails of blood across his white t-shirt. He didn’t even react as the creature lashed out again, knocking him sideways into the shelving. Chris lunged at the mass of skin, striking out with his makeshift weapon and managing to cut its arm deeply before it turned on him.
With an unholy scream, the contorted, deformed demon twisted itself and lunged at Chris, both arms extended and going for the blonde man’s throat, it’s menacing mouth opened wide and heading for Chris’s head.
With a shout of desperation, Vin recovered from his clash with the shelf of bottles and hauled himself at the monster, bringing his arm down in a powerful arc and stabbing the pale skin with his bottle, embedding it deep into the folds of its back.
Only an inch from his head, Chris watched the razor-sharp teeth move back and then vanish from his view as the monster turned on Vin again. He could feel blood oozing down his neck where its claws had held him, cutting into his skin. He picked up the bottle he had dropped and rushed forward to renew his attack.
Vin felt the long claws rip into his shoulder as the monster staked him with its left hand. He cried out in pain as it picked him up from the ground with an amazing display of strength and pinned him to the wall behind him, the long slivers of bone that were its claws, protruding straight through his body to grate against the freezing metal wall behind him.
Chris watched Vin struggle against the creature’s unnatural strength in vain and knew they weren’t going to defeat it one on one. They were going to die, going to meet the same twisted fate as Ginty if he didn’t do something quickly. He scanned the room, desperately seeking an answer, some means to defeat the reaper-like creation before them whose sole purpose seemed to be to take life. His eyes fell on the bank of kegs lining the floor. He eyed the gas line and threw another anxious glance at Vin.
Vin struggled in the monsters grip. Each movement caused his shoulder to scream in pain. It was toying with him, he knew it. It could have killed him already but was enjoying watching him writhe on the wall in pain, like a fly pinned to a school desk by its wings. This close to the hideous face, he could see veins moving beneath the thin layer of skin, pumping energy through the evil being. That something of this nature could exist was beyond his understanding. If he hadn’t of seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed it. He’d thought he was over the trauma that horror movies had wrought him in his youth and now he had discovered that a greater evil really did exist. If he survived this, he would never be able to look at the world with the same blissfully unaware eyes again.
Vin saw the creature’s other hand coming up to his head. A cold, dry palm was placed on his forehead, tilting his head back and exposing the long line of his throat. He struggled again, trying to move his head out of the strong grasp, but could move it no more than a fraction against the cold wall behind it. He brought a leg up, trying to get a knee into the thing’s stomach, but was slammed by the weight of its body driving him back against the wall and into dazed submission. He felt a sharp stab in his temple and a searing pain. He thought he screamed but wasn’t sure. As he watched the monster’s gaping mouth approach, he became fascinated by the flashing teeth. He swallowed, feeling the cool air on his vulnerable throat. Jesus Christ. He was going to go out just like Ginty.
Chris fought to get his numb hands to obey as he undid the coupler on the keg and unscrewed the gas lead. If this failed, they would either be killed by the monster or suffocate in the confined space, but he had to try.
Vin looked into the ghastly face and held the eyes of the beast with his own.
“Fuck you, you ugly bastard!” he spat at it angrily, feeling a trickle of blood from his temple.
The creature seemed to hesitate a moment upon hearing the words, as if trying to comprehend them.
“Yeah you heard me, fuck you! You sick, twisted freak!”
**Hahahahaha**
Vin became incensed. He was furious that this thing mocked him even as it brought him to his death. He began to kick out, trying to dislodge, anyway he could, the seemingly unbreakable grip it had on him. He ignored the pain and fought blindly, knowing that it was futile, but seeing only a yawning crevice of razor teeth as it moved in to mere inches away from his neck and knowing that he had always planned to go out fighting.
As the beast brought its massive mouth down to encompass his neck, Vin felt the first incision in his skin and yelled in fury.
“Noooooo!” Chris yelled, jumping onto the things back and bringing the now leaking gas line up.
As the monster kept its grip on Vin and tried to dislodge his attacker at the same time, Chris held on and shoved the gas nozzle into its indented snout.
The beast screamed, bucking and twisting but not letting Vin go as he tried to get rid of the foreign object stuck in his face. Chris held on desperately, knowing he had to get enough of the gas directly into the monster if he was to kill it, or at least knock it out. That is, if it indeed breathed oxygen as he hoped. At this point, he would believe that it wasn’t actually of this earth, who knew how it sustained life?
Vin screamed in pain as the claws twisted and wreaked further damage to his shoulder. He could still feel the sharp incision in his head, the pressure still there by the other hand. He could see Chris holding a line into the things nose, trying desperately to keep it there. What the hell was he doing?
The beast began to scream, writhing and twisting. Having no choice, it dropped its next kill to the floor, pulling its claws out and letting it slide in a thudding heap to the ground. It then concentrated on the threat to its back, reaching an arm around and trying to swat it off like an annoying insect.
Chris felt the slashing hand cut through his side and still he held on, shoving the lead further into the cavity, beginning to lose hope that the gas would prove poisonous to it. Again the arm swatted out and this time caught him across his back and arm, a deep, agonising tear of claws into his freezing skin, causing him to yell in pain, but hold on even tighter.
Vin tried to get up and help, managed to get to his shaking legs and moved forward, knowing he had to help Chris, who had just saved him from a terrifying fate, or at least postponed it. He staggered forward and was unprepared for the long, gangly arm to snake out again and catch his throat, holding him in a choking grip at arms length. He put both hands to the monster's massive fingers, trying to pry them off. He felt their sharp claws spike into his skin and felt his air thinning.
Chris was about to give up and try and help get Vin out of this new chokehold, when he felt the body beneath him shudder mightily. It gave a terrible scream and jerked beneath him in a violent spasm. He held on and prepared for the next movement, but could not withstand the shirking throw of the next jolt. He flew backwards, landing painfully amongst the metal cylinders on the floor. He reached out, crawling on the ground to the fallen hose, managing to turn the nozzle and stop the flow of Carbon Dioxide into the small room. Pushing to his knees, he saw Vin held like a rag doll in the creatures unyielding grasp. His eyes were closed, he was losing consciousness, or already had. Maybe that was for the best with the painful death this thing promised them...
Vin was about to pass out. Every time the creature convulsed it squeezed hard on his tortured throat, cutting off more air and causing him to jerk in reaction from the pain it brought him. It screamed continually now, angry and seeking to vent that anger on the two that had brought it upon him. Just as he was about to give in to the building darkness, he felt the pressure on his throat disappear. Once more he was dropped from its grasp as the creature let him go and backed away.
Chris saw the beast take a step towards him, eyes wild and still screaming. It jerked continually, its grotesque body seeming to lose control and coordination as it moved clumsily. It’s mouth opened and closed as it bellowed in rage, snapping its teeth closed and moving its long arms out wide as it came at him. He groped for something to use as a weapon, found his pocketknife and extended the blade. Mother of God, this thing didn't stop, he thought to himself as he once again squared up for an attack.
One long arm reached down for him, he watched as its long fingers and shining claws descended, slashing out with his blade but finding it knocked away. The hand came closer, reaching for him and then he saw a flashing blur of white and saw Vin throw himself into the side of its body, knocking the already disoriented thing off balance.
It howled again and tried to regain its feet, the spasms of its muscles now out of control. Chris and Vin watched as it writhed and jerked, its skin shifting and folding, the veins pumping furiously to dispel the deadly level of gas the hose had administered. It was breathing fast and furiously, trying to absorb more oxygen to balance out the deadly high level of Carbone Dioxide in its bloodstream. As they watched, the unsightly limbs thrashed and kicked involuntarily as the creature screamed and bellowed, its body convulsing its way to what they hoped was death.
Chris grabbed his blade where it had landed and headed for the creature’s back. Once more he jumped on it and reached his hand around, carefully aiming the blade lower than the deadly teeth and slit its throat from one side to the other in a powerful slash of his knife.
A terrible gurgling sound escaped the dying creature, its convulsions now stopped, replaced by a constant shivering on the ground where it lay. Air escaped from its slit throat and on a massive death throw, it rolled onto its back, dislodging the blonde warrior who had slayed it.
Vin helped Chris stand and together they watched the creature’s final breaths. They saw the red, chunky matter that flowed from its neck in a torrent, spilling onto the floor to mix with the Irishman’s blood. The bodies of countless men, now leaking from the very skin it had been consumed to fill.
Finally, with a last gasping heave, the body fell silent and its movement stopped. Both men stood a moment longer, as if measuring whether this was some trick. They’d both seen "The Terminator" countless times, they knew that bad guys could resurrect themselves easily enough.. and at this point in time, they’d believe anything to be possible.
“Is it dead?” Vin asked cautiously, one hand pressed to his shoulder.
Chris just shook his head slightly, trying to accept the events he’d witnessed. He took a step forward, knife still held out, approaching the fresh corpse on the ground. Another step forward and he could see the veins in its skin again, but could detect no breathing coming from it. The throat remained slit, he half expected to see it regenerate itself and heal before his eyes and almost laughed out loud. He was losing it. Now that the immediate threat had passed, he was falling apart.
He turned back to Vin and saw his friend’s eyes widen in shock as he looked past him to the ground. Whirling back to the threat he saw its eyes opened and a hand flew up and grabbed his leg, bringing him down with it. Once again he was staring at its deadly teeth and then he felt it give another quaking shudder before it finally gave out, letting go of his leg and closing its ferral eyes. Seeing them shut again, Chris thought, was like witnessing two gateways to hell closing for good.
Vin had flown forward when the creature had grabbed Chris, thinking about having to go to the toilet and thinking about saving his friend. He really had to go. He frowned and stopped moving. Something made him turn to the door. Oh my God it was open! How long had it been open for? Then he saw Ezra fill the frame and then the weirdest thing of all, there was a black raven perched on his shoulder… and Ezra looked none too happy about it being there.
“What are you doing here?” Vin asked him. “How did you know?”
Ezra laughed, tilting his head back and laughing, causing the bird on his shoulder to flap its wings and regain its balance from the movement beneath it.
“Believe me, if I could extricate myself from this nightmare I would indeed have done so by now… and while I’m at it I would bury this infernal animal!”
Vin turned back to Chris, saw that his friend was OK and then looked back at Ezra, confused. Ezra was gone. In the doorway, in his place, stood the massive form of Pennywise the clown, straight from the movie it would seem. It was grinning at them in glee, its fangs shining and its long fingers dripping with blood.
“Oh my God…” he heard Chris say and turned to him. Then he frowned again. The yellow beast was gone, no longer beneath Chris’s body on the floor.
“Where-?” he asked, but turned around again as he sensed movement behind him. The clown was gone from the doorway, too. He thought he was going insane, what the hell was happening here? Had they entered some sort of alternate universe where everything was totally screwed up? He couldn’t think anymore, he had to go to the toilet, it was starting to become his top priority, the cold air working to magnify the need.
He turned back to tell Chris that he was going to the toilet and then recoiled back in shock. Freddy Kruger, Chris was Freddy Kruger! He had on Chris’s clothes, but the head was Freddies. Not hesitating a second longer he turned and ran for all he was worth, launching himself down the hallway, past the bar and out into the main floor. He saw the toilet sign and ran for it, the need desperate now, forgetting the danger behind him in his urgency.
Reaching the row of urinals he raced in, almost tearing the button off his jeans before violently tugging his zipper down desperately. Nothing. C’mon c’mon. Something told him to wait. Something was telling him this wasn’t the place… He couldn’t go yet, not here. Why not here? He tried again, the need urgent and blinked in concentration. He saw his room back home. What the hell? Again he blinked and saw the cracked, filthy wall before him before he flashed back to his room in his apartment.
Putting a hand to his lower stomach to quell the sharp pain there that his urgent need was causing, he looked up again and saw bright sunlight, filtering through a window. Window? Why would… it was his window in his room, in his apartment… He blinked again, keeping his eyes open this time and looking around. There, in front of his face, was his alarm clock, blinking 12.30pm at him in time with the seconds. Blinking at him. But he’d pulled it out of the power socket…
Looking down he saw he was in his bed. He was home, in his bed. Oh my God! His foggy mind struggled to comprehend even as he launched himself from his bed and headed to his toilet, whacking his elbow again on the way. Once more stationed with his arm holding him up and his head bowed, still half asleep, he tried to make sense of what the hell had happened, groaning in relief as his pain eased. What the hell had he been drinking to have to go that badly again?
He moved to the sink, splashed water on his face and looked into the mirror. Dark circles beneath his eyes attested to his restless sleep and ordeal. A dream? It had been a dream? No way, it was way too real. He stared a moment longer at his pale face and returned to his room. Sitting on the edge of his bed he looked around the room, saw the clock again and frowned. His jeans were resting over the chair where he’d thrown them, his boots on the ground by his bed.
Thinking coffee might help he got up and nearly jumped out of his skin as the phone rang. Staring at it like it was a living thing, he grabbed the receiver on the sixth ring and held it up to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Vin?”
He felt an overwhelming sense of de ja vu and plonked back down heavily onto his bed.
“Chris?” he asked almost hesitantly.
“Yeah, what’s wrong? You don’t sound right, you just wake up?”
Vin swallowed, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re not going to tell me you want to go for a beer are you?” he asked him.
“Beer? Well.. It’s not a –bad- idea…but not why I rang. Damned if I could sleep last night, musta been the pizza, I was up half the morning with the weirdest dreams you wouldn’t believe. Ezra said the same thing happened with him… You OK?” Chris asked when Vin didn’t reply.
Vin ran a hand through his hair, stopping suddenly when he felt a scratch at his temple.
“Uh.. what kind of dreams?” he asked.
“Just monster kind of ones… that damned clown from IT set me off I think. Ezra said he dreamt there was a Raven following him around,” Chris laughed.
“Jesus…”
“You OK?”
“Fine. Didn’t sleep well either, seems we all got bitten by the dream bug today.”
“You too? Damn, maybe it –was- the pizza. Anyway, just wanted to see if you wanted to come out to the ranch for lunch. Gona have a BBQ. Buck was round McGinty’s and he gave him a whole pile of meat left over from a quiz night… Vin-?”
Vin had gasped loudly at that. Meat.. McGinty’s.. Oh my God…
“Chris, I gotta go…”
“You ok?”
“M’fine… just didn’t sleep too good. I’ll be out there later.”
Chris frowned but let it go. “No problem Pard, see you then.”
Vin hung up and went to the bathroom again. Looking into the mirror he pulled his hair back and looked at his temple. He made out a small incision on his hairline, scabbed over with a thin line of fresh blood. Whatever the answer, he knew one thing, he wasn’t touching pizza for a while, he was starting to believe in the psychotic powers of cheese...
Turning to head for the shower, he found himself smiling shakily. He remembered how pissed off Ezra had looked in his dream. He knew it was a dream now, he just had to give himself time to readjust to reality. Besides... Chris would never have said "Holy hell" when confronted with a situation like that. It was a major relief to discover he hadn't mumbled those words, aside from the obvious relief at discovering that deformed creatures out to suck his body out through his neck didn't really exist. His smile widened as he thought of telling Chris what he'd said in his nightmare.
As he reached for the tap he was startled by a loud clap of thunder that seemed to come from nowhere. He waited, but there was only one. Hell, nothing surprised him anymore. It could start raining clown masks and he’d probably just walk right through them. Lunch was going to be interesting, he thought, with the tale swapping they would no doubt be doing.
*******
High above the lands of earth, a three-way high five had just been given. Still whooping in joy, the three brothers ignored the glare from their father, Hypnos.
Phobetor turned to his brother’s, Phantasos and Morpheus and smiled.
“A most enjoyable night, brother’s, until next time?” he said, lighting a cigarette.
“Of course,” Morpheus said, smiling happily in return. “The long-haired one has a wonderful imagination to play with! And nice monster you had going there! Liked the teeth, nice touch…”
“Thankyou very much... and you did a wonderful impression of Larabee, Morpheus, it was beautifully executed." Phobeter returned the praise.
"Yes, Morpheus, that was exceptional, even for you. Brothers, we are truly gifted,” Phantasos added, smiling and raising his glass.
“You are too kind.” Morpheus said, raising his glass of wine to his brothers’, “both of you.”
“As are you,” Phantasos said, raising his own glass to clink.
The three sons of sleep smiled and congratulated each other again on a nights good work, well satisfied in their efforts. This had been the best dream weaving they’d done in a long time.
Watching them, Hypnos shook his head. Damn fools. What mess would he have to sort out this time? He’d been careful since he’d dared to mess with Zeus, ruler of Olympus, but hey, even a God like himself had his limits when bribed with a beautiful woman… Looking at his boys again he scratched his head. By the smug, self-satisfied expressions on their faces, they were definitely causing mayhem this day in the realm of sleep...
"King Sleep was father of a thousand sons -
indeed a tribe - and of them all, the one
he chose was Morpheus, who had such skill
in miming any human form at will.
No other Dream can match his artistry
in counterfeiting men: their voice, their gait,
their face - their moods; and, too, he imitates
their dress precisely and the words they use
most frequently. But he mimes only men..."Ovid's Metamorphoses:
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