Urban Gothic Read online

  The footsteps stopped almost directly beneath them. Then Noigel, if indeed it was him, moaned, deep and mournful. He sounded sad. The moan rose in pitch and volume, turning into an anguished cry. The crawlspace thrummed as Noigel voiced his rage. Brett reached out and squeezed Kerri’s ankle with his good hand. Heather squeezed her eyes shut and chewed on her hair. Javier remained motionless. Kerri caught a whiff of something—that same sour milk mixed with feces and sweat stench that she’d smelled when Noigel attacked them in the foyer. That left no doubt in her mind that Tyler’s killer was directly beneath them, pissed off and intent upon finishing the job. That meant they hadn’t gone very far at all.

  Time seemed to halt. The sorrowful, enraged cries continued. Something slammed into the wall, hard. Then it struck the wall again. Kerri realized that Noigel was lashing out. By the sound, he was punching holes through the walls. She heard crumbling plaster and falling dirt and debris. Then the thing below them paused and fell silent. Kerri crossed her fingers, willing him to go away. Instead, Noigel sneezed three times—great, wet explosions that sounded like rifle shots. It followed this with a series of guttural snorts. Then the footsteps began to plod away, while the creature softly cooed to itself. The revolting stench dissipated.

  It found the corpse, Kerri thought. Noigel found the midget’s corpse and he’s upset. Not that he wasn’t unreasonable to begin with, but now we’re doubly fucked. I killed his friend.

  Brett slowly let go of Kerri’s ankles as the thunderous footsteps faded. She turned around and gave him a reassuring smile. He returned the gesture, but his expression was weak and his face had grown paler. Kerri turned back to the others in time to see Heather tap Javier on the foot. He held up his hand, palm outward, indicating for them to stay still and silent.

  The waiting was worse than Kerri would have thought possible. Even with Heather, Brett, and Javier right there with her for moral support, all she could do while they crouched in the darkness and waited, was listen to the sounds of the house settling around them. She jumped at every creak and groan, no matter how slight, convinced that each sound was a sign of the killer returning. She knew it hadn’t been long, but it seemed like hours. Her mind swam, overwhelmed with disjointed thoughts and conflicting emotions. She was scared. Angry. Worried about Brett. Distraught over Tyler and Steph. She wanted to scream aloud until the killer found them, if only so he would put her out of her misery. She wanted to run, pushing past her friends, abandoning them if she had to, all in a desperate ploy to live. She wanted to hide—to find a dark nook somewhere in this house of horrors and just stay there until help arrived. Most of all, Kerri wanted to cry.

  So she did.

  Hot tears rolled down her face and dripped from her chin onto the crawlspace floor. Her shoulders and head shook, but she made no noise, weeping in terrified silence. Brett squeezed her ankle again. Eventually, the tears ceased. Kerri took a deep breath and let her body sag. Her eyes burned from the crying jag, and her face felt hot and tight. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the sight of Tyler dying reared up again. She pushed it away once more, afraid that if she began weeping again, she’d be unable to keep silent. But the image was still there, like an endless echo of things best forgotten.

  They waited a few minutes longer. Finally, Brett spoke.

  “What now?” he whispered.

  Without a word, Javier motioned them forward. They crawled even slower than before, moving cautiously, afraid to make even the slightest sound. The area below them remained quiet. No footsteps or garbled cries or slamming doors. Rats scratched and scampered deep inside the walls, and at one point, Kerri’s palm came down in a pile of tiny, hard mouse droppings. She warned Brett so that he wouldn’t get them in his wounds. There was no telling how many diseases the feces was crawling with.

  Eventually, Javier stopped and the others halted behind him. They listened, but the house remained still.

  “Dead end ahead,” Javier whispered. “There’s another trapdoor here. I’m gonna open it.”

  Kerri heard the creaking of hinges. Then, the shaft was suddenly filled with light. She flinched, shielding her eyes with one hand. Spots danced in her vision.

  “We’re on the other side of the barrier,” Javier reported.

  “They’ve got the hallway lights turned back on. You guys stay here. I’m going to check it out.”

  Squinting against the light, Heather grabbed his ankle. “Don’t.”

  “I have to, Heather. If there’s anyone down there, maybe I can get them before they know we made it out of the trap. Or maybe I can lead them away from the rest of you.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “No, crazy is a rundown Victorian-style home in the middle of the hood with a bunch of sick fucks inside trapping and killing innocent people. Now stay here and be quiet.”

  The light in the crawlspace dimmed again as Javier squeezed through the trapdoor. After he’d dropped down to the floor, it got even brighter in the cramped space. The dazzling brilliance gave Kerri a headache.

  “Javier,” Heather whispered. “Do you see anything?”

  His response was an angry hiss. Heather fell silent. Kerri listened to Javier creep down the hall. She could tell by his tread that he was trying to be stealthy, but she could still hear him. She wondered if anything else could, as well. Eventually, they heard his footsteps returning.

  “I think the coast is clear,” he called in hushed tones. “No sign of Noigel or anyone else. We’re in a different part of the house, but near where we went into the last hallway. Come on down, but keep quiet.”

  Heather went first, followed by Kerri. Javier helped both of them out of the crawlspace. Then the three of them aided Brett’s descent. Kerri was taken aback by his appearance. Under the fluorescent lights, he seemed more dead than alive. He swayed on his feet, smiling slightly.

  Then Kerri realized that it wasn’t a smile, but a grimace. His complexion was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His ruined hand was swollen and bruised, and his entire arm was soaked with blood, except where the sweat had washed it away. Despite their crawl through the shaft overhead, he was the only one sweating. Kerri wondered if that was a symptom of shock, and if so, what they could do about it, other than getting him some medical attention soon. She had applied the tourniquet competently enough, especially under pressure, but most of her medical knowledge came from watching House.

  She realized that she wasn’t the only one staring at Brett with concern. They all were. Brett must have noticed, too, because he shook his head ruefully.

  “Jesus, guys,” he murmured. “I’m not dead yet. Don’t look at me like that.”

  Javier placed a hand on Brett’s shoulder and squeezed.

  “Don’t worry, dude. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

  “I know you will.”

  “Listen,” Javier continued, “what I said earlier about this being your fault and everything—I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean it. You’re smart. Always looking at things logically. I’m glad you’re with us right now, because we might need that brain of yours to get out of this place. So again, I’m sorry.”

  Brett winced in pain. “It’s okay, man. Seriously. You were scared and upset. We all are. I know you didn’t mean it.”

  “So we’re all right?”

  “Everything is copacetic.”

  Nodding, Javier turned to the girls. “Let’s go, before Noigel or his friends come back. Kerri, you bring up the rear. Watch behind us. Keep an ear out in case they try to sneak up behind us. Brett, you stay between us, okay?”

  Kerri took a deep breath and gripped her club tighter. The dwarf’s congealing blood glinted on the nail sticking out of the wood. She glanced around the room. Like the others, it was devoid of furnishings. There was a single door, splattered with what looked like old blood and rat holes in the walls and baseboards. Black mold climbed the corners, spreading from the floor to the ceiling in grotesque spiral patterns. Dead flies and rat feces carpe
ted the bare floor. She’d had hopes that there might be a chair or even a table lying around, something they could have used for another weapon, something better than the belt, but there was nothing. She supposed that it was possible they could peel some wainscoting from the gouged, water-stained walls, but even that wouldn’t make much of a weapon.

  Javier opened a door with his left hand. The hinges squealed in protest, and he frowned at the noise. His right hand was drawn back, the belt wrapped into his fingers and the buckle dangling down like a short bullwhip. They hurried down the hallway, moving as quickly but quietly as possible, retracing their steps through the house. As they passed the room where Javier had killed the first midget, he ducked inside. When he emerged again, his expression was troubled.

  “What’s wrong?” Heather asked.

  “The body is missing.”

  “What body?”

  “The midget. The one we killed before Brett found us. I hid it in there, back in the shadows, and now it’s gone.”

  “Maybe it was still alive,” Brett suggested.

  Javier shook his head. “No. No way. I made sure it was dead. Noigel or one of the others must have found it.”

  “Maybe that’s a good thing,” Kerri said.

  “How the hell can it be a good thing?”

  Kerri’s voice grew excited. “Noigel knows we’ve killed at least two of his friends. Maybe he’ll decide that makes us even. Maybe he’ll decide we’re more dangerous than their average prey, and he’ll let us go.”

  Javier stared at her, unblinking. “Do you really believe that, Kerri?”

  Her expression crumpled. “No.”

  “I don’t think Noigel is smart enough to think that way,” Brett said. “From what I saw, he might be mentally retarded.”

  “You think so?” Heather’s tone was sarcastic. “I’d say he’s more than retarded. I’d say that he’s batshit fucking crazy. Retarded people don’t go around bashing people’s heads in.”

  Kerri choked back a sob as images of Tyler’s death flashed through her mind again.

  “Shut up, Heather,” Brett whispered. “That’s not helping.”

  “I agree,” Javier said. “Now, come on.”

  Without another word, he led them forward again. Heather reached for his hand, but he brushed her away. Pouting, she followed. Brett shuffled along behind them with his head drooping low. Occasionally, he veered off course and bumped into the walls. After a few times of this, Kerri walked beside him, and let Brett lean on her. They crept back through the maze of hallways and rooms, finally emerging into the foyer again. The space was now lit by a single dirty bulb hanging from the ceiling. Kerri tried to remember if the lightbulb had been there when they came in. She didn’t recall. Everything had happened so quickly.

  She watched as Javier tried opening the front door, but it still refused to budge. Grunting, he tried harder, exerting himself hard enough that his muscles and sinew hardened like granite, and his veins stood out as if they were about to burst from his flesh. Kerri moved to help him, but before she could, Javier went slack again. Back to the door, he slid down into a crouch, panting for breath.

  “It’s no use,” he mumbled. “I can’t get it open. I could kick the fucking thing down, maybe, but not without them hearing us.”

  “Maybe there’s somebody on the other side,” Heather said. “Maybe somebody out there will hear us and go for help.”

  “Who?” Javier lifted his shirttail and used it to wipe beads of sweat from his forehead. “The guys who chased us in here? A fat lot of good that will do us.”

  “Better them than the freaks in here.” Heather’s voice got louder. “At least the guys outside weren’t killing us!”

  Javier stood up suddenly and clamped a hand over her mouth.

  “Quiet,” he warned. “What the hell is wrong with you? Get your shit together, babe. Do you want them to find us?”

  Heather’s eyes were wide. She blinked twice. Javier released her and removed his hand from her mouth. They all stood quietly for a moment, listening for sounds of pursuit or discovery, but the house was silent as a graveyard.

  “I’m sorry,” Heather apologized.

  “It’s okay,” Javier said. “We’re all on edge. But we need to focus. We need to stop wasting time.”

  “Well,” Kerri said, “let’s go then.”

  “Hang on,” Javier said. “First, I want everyone to check their phones. We’re closer to the outside now. I’m wondering if we might be able to get a signal.”

  They checked their remaining cell phones, but none of them had service.

  “Shit. I’d love to know how they’re blocking it.” Javier turned to Brett. “You think you remember how to get back to this kitchen you were in?”

  Brett nodded, licking his lips. Kerri noticed that even his tongue had turned paler.

  “I can find it,” he muttered. “Are we really going down into the basement, though?”

  “Yeah,” Javier confirmed. “We are. I don’t like it any more than the rest of you. But unless we find another way out of here, I don’t see that we have much choice.”

  Brett slumped his good arm over Javier’s shoulder and leaned on him for support. Then he took the lead, guiding them through an increasingly bewildering labyrinth of twisting passageways and doors. Kerri and Heather walked behind the boys. Kerri kept glancing over her shoulder, making sure that they weren’t being followed. She also tried to keep track of each turn they made, but the task was impossible. All of the rooms looked the same—empty and desolate. There were doors that led into other hallways, doors that led into more barren rooms, and doors that led into nothing but brick walls. She noticed that there wasn’t a single window anywhere in the building. The lights hummed overhead. The sound was simultaneously comforting and disturbing.

  “You sure you know where you’re going?” Javier asked Brett.

  Brett nodded, unable to speak. He appeared even more exhausted than before. He led them through a few more rooms and passages, and then through a door that opened into the kitchen. The makeshift lights glowed overhead. “I need to rest for a minute,” Brett said. “There’s no lock on the door, so one of us should stand guard.”

  Javier leaned Brett against the wall and eased him down to the floor in a kneeling position. Then he began looking around. “Let’s find something to prop against the door. Slow them down if they try to get in.”

  “Forget it,” Brett gasped, tottering back and forth on his knees. “I looked already, when I was here before. There’s nothing.”

  Kerri glanced down at the floor and realized that she was standing in a large swath of fresh blood. The stains led to a closed door at the rear of the room. It looked like somebody had dipped a mop in a bucket of blood and dragged it across the floorboards. Alarmed, she choked in disgust and stepped aside. Her shoes left red footprints.

  “That’s . . .” Brett’s throat worked soundlessly. “They brought Steph and Tyler through here. Noigel and the other one.”

  Kerri’s hand fluttered to her mouth. She closed her eyes and tried to remain strong.

  “The other one,” Javier said. “You said he was wearing a woman’s skin over his body?”

  “Yeah. I get sick just thinking about it.”

  “Did you get his name?”

  “No. Although Batshit-Crazy Man would suit him well.”

  Javier picked up a chunk of white plaster and drew a small line on his forearm. Then he drew another one beside it. He followed this with a shorter line.

  Heather leaned closer to him. “What are you doing?”

  “You never saw Die Hard?”

  “No.”

  “I’m keeping track of how many are left—that we know of. This mark is for Noigel. This mark is for his cross-dressing friend.”

  “What’s the half mark for?”

  “The one that got its tongue bitten by Kerri. We don’t know if it’s alive or dead.”

  Brett sagged onto his rump and looked up at the light
s. “I wish I knew how they were turning those on and off. I tried the light switches before, but none of them worked. They must be using a central breaker or something.”

  Kerri spotted the refrigerator and walked toward it. She breathed through her mouth. The air reeked of mildew and filth. Dust floated in the beams of light, swirling like tiny snowflakes. More of the sickly black mold sprawled across the walls. There was a bloody handprint on the appliance’s door. It appeared old—the blood was more like dirt than liquid. She glanced behind the unit and saw that the electrical cord had been cut off at some point. The frayed wires dangled like veins from a severed human limb.

  “Somebody help me out here,” she said. “We’ll slide this fridge in front of the door.”

  “Forget it,” Brett replied. “I tried doing that before. It’s heavy as hell and it makes too much noise. And besides, you shouldn’t disturb a burial ground.”

  “A what?”

  “A burial ground,” he repeated. “The fridge is full of rat bones.”

  Kerri scampered backwards, sputtering in disgust. “Jesus Christ . . .”

  Brett, Heather, and Javier laughed softly. After a moment, she joined them. It felt like a release. All the negative emotions drained out of her.

  “Come on,” Javier said, helping Brett to his feet again. “Let’s check out the basement and find the exit.”

  Javier led them to the cellar door as if approaching a hornet’s nest. The floorboards creaked. When he opened the door, they all felt a faint breeze on their faces. The odor was terrible and indefinable, but the breeze felt luxurious. Kerri didn’t know if it was that or their earlier bout of laughter or just the new surge of adrenaline coursing through her body, but she suddenly felt more positive—upbeat. For the first time since they’d entered the home, she dared to hope. She held on to that emotion, drawing strength from it as they stood at the top of the basement stairs and prepared to descend.