“Aw, ain’t no thing,” said Teresa. “I seen worse. Jus’ watch where you step, hey?”
Leading the way, she paced carefully across the parking lot to the front door. Here she took out her shotgun and peered into the place for a moment before stepping inside. Eyes glued to the glass-strewn ground, Justin followed, Erin taking up the rear. The Kid, eyes wide, was evidently having none of it and remained outside, a worried sort of look on his little face that Justin wasn’t sure he liked.
“OK, here’s yer hole,” said Teresa, gesturing. “So stay away from ‘at, hey?”
Justin edged a little nearer and peered into what he soon saw was a considerable subsidence of some kind, a yawning pit in the concrete floor like a ragged sinkhole. It was pitch black at the bottom, but something on the jagged edge, a scrap of something bright, caught his eye.
“What’s that?” he pointed. “See?”
Teresa peered at the scrap and then, almost giving Justin a heart attack, simply walked over, reached down, and snagged the thing.
“Careful!” blurted Justin, but Teresa was already away from the hole. She held the scrap out to him.
“Piece a cloth, look like,” she said.
Justin took the scrap and then a sinking feeling hit him in the stomach as he recognized the pattern. Red with blue and brown checks, it was, without a doubt, a piece of Bowler’s weathered flannel shirt. He lowered the scrap and gave a little groan.
“What?” asked Teresa. “So it some shred o’ somethin’. So what?”
“The pattern,” said Justin. “Don’t you recognize it? Plaid flannel?”
“You mean Bowler, don’t you?” said Erin, keeping a respectful distance. “It’s from Bowler’s shirt.”
Justin only nodded. Teresa took another look at the scrap and then nodded as well.
“Guess you right,” she said, frowning. “He musta fell down there, got snagged, tore his shirt.”
Gravely, she flipped on the flashlight mounted to her weapon and shone the beam down into the hole. Justin, leaning in behind her, saw that the shaft went down for about ten feet, where the light showed loose rubble and twisted rebar.
“Don’ see nobody,” she said. “Smells kinda funny, but who know what that is? Wonder what down there, hey? Don’ you? Din’t Bowler say there a tunnel?”
“Yes, he did,” said Justin. “But he was kind of vague about it, really.”
Teresa frowned at the pit and then experimentally felt the hole’s edge with one booted foot. A few pieces of fractured cement rolled into the pit, but it didn’t collapse any further. Teresa stepped back and re-slung her shotgun.
“I say we check it out,” she said. “I mean, I know Bowler ain’t like, the juiciest survie on the road or nothin’, but he ain’t such a bad dude. What if he hurt an’ layin’ down there where we can’t gleep ‘im? Just checkin’ it out don’ hurt.”
Justin scowled and thought about it, but, loath as he was to admit it, she was right. Maybe the scrap had gotten there when Bowler had fallen into the pit the first time, but then again, there was always the chance that it was more recent. They owed it to Bowler to at least look. Reluctantly, he nodded to her.
“We have some rope,” he said. “But just take a look, alright? Don’t do anything dangerous, alright?”
Teresa smiled impishly at him. “Don’ worry, Case. This ain’t the first wrecked-up SA I been in. Be jus’ fine, you see.”
Justin and Erin waited as Teresa deftly rigged up, tested, and then scrambled down the rope and vanished into the hole. For a few minutes they heard nothing, but then Teresa’s voice rang out from below.
“They is a tunnel down here!” she called. “Gonna check it out!”
“What about Bowler?” shouted Justin, hands cupped to his mouth. “Any sign of him?”
“Not so far!” called Teresa. “Be right back!”
Justin glanced worriedly at Erin, who just frowned and shrugged.
“Teresa?” Justin yelled. “Where are you going? What’s going on down there?”
Listening, he heard her voice, yelling something, but it was so distant and faint that he couldn’t make out the actual words. A cold sort of feeling stole over him and he suddenly realized that this was probably a bad idea. Maybe a very bad one.
“Teresa?!” he hollered into the hole. “Can you hear me?!”
Nothing. Not a peep. For an eternity, they waited and listened, but still nothing.
Justin looked at Erin. “I’m going down there,” he said urgently, going for the rope. “Something’s wrong.”
“Wait, Doctor Kaes,” said Erin, grabbing him by the arm. “Don’t!”
“But—” said Justin, tearing away.
“No, I mean listen,” she said, putting a finger to her lips.
Justin listened, his heart beating double-time, and heard Teresa’s voice again, just as faint, and then, making him start as if electrocuted, a shotgun blast. It was muffled and far-off, but it was unmistakable.
“Oh shit!” said Justin. “She’s in trouble! Out of the way, I’m going down there.”
This time she didn’t try to stop him, but he was only a few feet down the rope when he heard a commotion coming from beneath him and scrabbled back up. Just as he turned to look back down into the hole, vaguely aware of a disgusting, musky smell, first Bowler and then Teresa came bolting into the light. In an instant, prodded by Teresa, the two scaled the rope and were back above ground.
“What happened?” asked Justin. Teresa seemed the same, if excited, but Bowler didn’t look so good. His clothes were ragged and torn, his hair was even wilder than usual, and there was a frantic, hunted look in his eyes that spoke of some profoundly disturbing experience.
“Later!” snapped Teresa, eyeing the hole. “We gotta get outta here. Now move! Go on, go!”
They did, snatching a few convenience store treasures on the way out. Teresa didn’t let them stop until they were a good half-mile away, but finally they took a break and sat down under a big, solitary tree. Justin turned expectantly on Bowler and Teresa.
“Well?” he demanded. “Are you going to tell us what happened?”
Teresa looked at Bowler, but the young man had drawn his knees up to his chin and sat staring vacantly at the ground. Justin noticed that he was only wearing one cowboy boot; his other foot was bare. Teresa shrugged, seemingly unruffled.
“Went down the tunnel, hey?” she said. “Real dark, got this funk-ly smell, too. An’ then I sees this one, comin’ down the tunnel like he on fire, hey? An’ then I sees why, cause they somethin’ chasin’ him. Somethin’ nasty, hey? Din’t get a good gleep, but it was big an’ real fearish-lookin’ for sure. So I blasted it. Leastway, think I did. Anyway, it went away, back into the dark, hey. An’ then we ran like, fast as can, an’ here we are.”
“Good God!” Justin said. “What was it? An animal? A mountain lion or a bear or something?”
“No,” said Bowler, in an odd, flat way. They all looked at him, but he only stared at the ground. “Not an animal. Not human, neither.”
“What?” said both Justin and Erin.
Justin waved Erin to be quiet and stood up, went over to the young man, and offered their liter canteen of water. Very slowly, Bowler looked up. His eyes were haunted, dark-circled and with an almost inhuman depth.
“What happened, Bowler?” asked Justin softly.
The young man shuddered from head to foot, and then took the water bottle and had a deep swig. Wiping his face with one hand, he looked at Justin again and at least some of the intensity was gone.
“They’re monsters, Doc,” he said desperately, the words coming faster as he went. “I don’t know what else to call ‘em. They got extra arms, some of ‘em, or extra legs, an’ some don’t have arms at all and some got things like tentacles instead and some got these super long hands or arms or just like lumps for heads, and—-”