mirror of https://github.com/nealey/Horrors2
184 lines
5.0 KiB
TeX
184 lines
5.0 KiB
TeX
\chapter{The Warehouse}
|
|
\by{lucifer chikken}
|
|
|
|
|
|
Dripping water echoed through the empty warehouse. I stepped into a
|
|
slant of light thrown by security spotlights outside. The sliver of
|
|
light was intermittently chopped by an exhaust fan set into the
|
|
wall. I checked my old automatic watch, lost in meditation as the
|
|
second hand whirred smoothly around the dial. It was late. I wound
|
|
up at the old warehouse in the harbor on a hunch, there was a lot
|
|
of money riding on the investigation, and Luke Bavarius, P.I.
|
|
listened to hunches when it meant keeping the freezer flush with
|
|
starchy Hungry Man dinners.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
In the distance, a low grunt crept through the darkness accompanied
|
|
by the clang of metal. The sound rattled me down to the very
|
|
marrow. Instinctively, my hand flew to my Beretta, two fingers
|
|
rubbing the sleek metal for security. I'd seen a lot of horrors in
|
|
the Big Apple, some things I'd never shake. The Beretta was my
|
|
partner through each of them.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Gritty footsteps crossed the dirty cement floor some distance in
|
|
front of me. Squinting, I caught a flash of pale skin, a glint of
|
|
metal. I pulled my gun from its holster, admiring its length as it
|
|
was unsheathed. Stalking forward, back tight against shipping
|
|
containers, I disengaged the safety and cocked the gun. Footsteps
|
|
scurried further into the depths of the warehouse.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I spoke to the darkness. ``Show yourself,
|
|
asshole.''
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Legs flashed across a slit of light.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
``No one should be here now,'' I muttered. My heart fired
|
|
adrenaline through my body. ``Shoot first, ask questions
|
|
later, Bavarius.''
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I raised my weapon, aiming it at the sound. ``Stop right
|
|
there!'' I shouted, firing two shots into the darkness. An
|
|
anguished cry echoed off the tin ceiling, followed closely by a
|
|
thick thud of a body hitting the floor.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I honed in on the sound and stalked toward it. In the shadows,
|
|
another hulking figure loomed. ``What the fuck is
|
|
that?''
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It emitted a low sound and moved. Its form seemed unearthly. My
|
|
colon clenched in response to the adrenaline rush. Must've drank
|
|
too much muddy coffee before this stakeout.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Again, my Beretta found itself ready to fire as I aimed at the
|
|
hulking figure. The sounds it was making, the low groans, were
|
|
unearthly. Whatever it was, it had to be done away with. My finger
|
|
twitched on the trigger.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
``Don't do it, Mister.'' The weak voice came from my
|
|
right. My eyes darted between the veiled voice and the shadows in
|
|
front of me.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
``What the hell are you?'' I called.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The voice didn't answer immediately. It just whimpered.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
``What are you?!'' I demanded again, pouring all of the
|
|
testosterone pooled my balls into my voice.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
``I'm{\ldots} hurt. Don't shoot it.''
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
``Shoot what?'' There was a pause. ``Shoot
|
|
what!''
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
``Please{\ldots} I'm just a kid{\ldots}''
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Oh, hell. A kid. I bit the inside of my cheek to stave off the
|
|
encroaching vomit. I could envision the bile on its rise from my
|
|
ulcerated stomach. My hand shook. The figure groaned low again and
|
|
my finger impulsively squeezed away at the trigger. Violence
|
|
exploded once more, echoing through the tin-paneled warehouse. The
|
|
figure received my bullet, still unsure of its identity, I watched
|
|
its shadowed form waver in the shadows.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
``No!'' The kid cried, his pubescent voice cracking with
|
|
pain and disgust. He had dragged his body toward me. My gun hand
|
|
fell limply to my side; I looked down at the kid with pity and
|
|
shame. A gleaming snail trail of blood darkened the cement floor
|
|
behind him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
``Why are you in here?''
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The kids eyes were pale with death. You could almost hear the blood
|
|
draining from him in sick little spurts.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
``You shot the giraffe,'' he wailed, low.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
My attention snapped from the kid to the darkness in front of me. I
|
|
squinted, deciphering the dark figure wavering before me. Its long
|
|
neck gradually came into focus. I stepped closer to the beast. It
|
|
was vomiting blood from its neck, muscular spasms shooting through
|
|
the six foot long tube of meat; its long blue tongue drooped to the
|
|
side flaccidly. Long eyelashes fluttered over its cow-like brown
|
|
eyes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Woozy, the giraffe suddenly dropped to its knobby knees, its neck
|
|
lolled dramatically to the side. The neck snapped over a row of
|
|
container drums, folding thickly like a bag of sand. The sound
|
|
reverberated through the hollow spaces in my bones. It wasn't
|
|
likely to be forgotten, to abandon those spaces, any time soon. I
|
|
clutched desperately at my stomach, trying not to vomit my liver
|
|
and onion dinner all over the floor.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I glanced at the kid. Exhalations escaped him in a long rattling
|
|
breaths. He'd be a goner without help.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
``Ah shit,'' my chest heaved. ``Should've listened
|
|
to the kid, Bavarius.''
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sirens screamed toward the warehouse. From the wide doorway, the
|
|
rain-slicked streets of the Empire City opened their arms to me. I
|
|
pulled a Pall Mall from the emergency pack stashed in my pocket and
|
|
lit it up, muttering to myself, the cigarette bouncing between my
|
|
lips. ``New York. I ream her and ruin her, but the whore keeps
|
|
taking me back.''
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Red lights whirled closer. Suddenly, I was sobbing.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|