Rook winced, but the kid had the good sense to stay silent.
Boss placed his foot on the first step and watched closely, expecting a Rorschach test named Deacon to spill from the black, backing down the stairs with his AA12 Automatic Shotgun poised and ready.
Waiting for it.
Hoping for it.
Come on, Deek.
Nothing but the steady thrumming that bounced through the stairwell. And it sounded louder. Hungrier. No more time to wait.
Boss stepped back from the darkness and pressed himself to the wall once more. Then he signaled for them to stack on the doorway.
It was time to move.
The team slid through the door effortlessly, fanning out, flashlights flicking every which way, casting their disfigured shadows over the walls and doors like prowling hunchbacked creatures.
The hallway was long and untended, dirt and painted scribbles similar to those in the stairwell leading like breadcrumbs to a central lobby where the desiccated bodies of wilted plants draped over a stained and torn sitting area.
Rook watched as Boss flashed a light down each corridor then signaled empty. Cypher shook her head — no signatures. Then Boss pointed down a hallway and they were moving in.
A Sink Hole. Rook couldn’t believe it — no, he didn’t want to believe it. First field drop and he might have to deal with a Sink Hole. His anxiety welled up again.
It could have been anything else. Why that? Why couldn’t it be something simple? Ghouls would be fine or goblins; yeah, goblins would be perfect! Doppelgangers, vampires, a poltergeist or two. Anything but a goddamned Sink Hole.
Rook stayed close behind Boss, checking his front and his back constantly. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. One brief lapse may have already cost someone their life. He hoped that one time he would look back and see Deacon rushing down the hallway to catch up. It didn’t happen.
Cypher was behind him, Mouth following her. As they moved down the hall, the sound from the stairwell swelled in volume, pumping its thick tones through the halls into the very heart of the building. Only now it had changed. This was no longer the inarticulate clearing of a throat but a deep growl that streaked discordant high-pitched squeals throughout its roaring bass. The screeching was fast and long, then short and slow and all the while it was pained, bleeding agony in the air that shot through Rook in electrified spears and brought them straight to room 613 — Leak’s room.
The door was covered in scratch marks, embedded with fingernails and painted with streaks of blood. Black muck oozed from the door frame with every agonized pulse that emanated from within.
“Ectoplasm,” Cypher said. “Someone is angry.”
Boss signaled and they formed an arc around the door, all arms shouldered and ready. Boss tried the knob. Locked. Mouth stepped forward, pulled his Mossberg 590 and waited for the signal.
Rook dug his weapon into his shoulder, heart racing as he started rifling through his training.
Ghouls: flesh eating hell beast. Cut out the heart.
Cypher sat machine still.
Poltergeist: nasty ghost-human attachment. Exorcism.
Boss was trained on the door, his eyes locked and ready.
Revenant: already went over that one. Shit.
Mouth aimed at the lock.
Sink Hole—
Mouth fired.
The lock splintered into shrapnel and Boss booted the door, leading the charge into the dark room. He wanted this procedure to go by the numbers, even envisioned it all. He kicks in the door, the team files in behind, splits off into the adjacent rooms in a flurry of feet and reflex, all uneven gallops and sudden squeaking stops as corners were checked and rooms called “clear” until they found whatever had taken Leak — whatever ghost or goblin or ghoul — and they would blast it straight back to whatever hellhole it had clawed its way out of and Leak would be fine and they would pull out. That was the plan. It was a good plan. Solid. Perfect.
Except they had already lost Deacon. And there were 123 residents unaccounted for in this apartment complex. And there seemed to be a Sink Hole somewhere nearby, which meant someone had to open it. And that someone would be dangerous, yes, but not nearly as dangerous as the Sink Hole.
So, as the splinters floated in mid-air and he shined his light into the apartment, Boss was in no way surprised to find that his plan had gone all to hell.
The living room was a crimson massacre delivered in flashes of white light. Blood soaked the walls in angry splashes beside deep, hateful scratches that were adorned with hunks of fatty flesh. Chunks of bone and sinew were strewn about the hallway like a child’s toys. The kitchen sink was filled with red and bubbled with putrid black sewage. The room smelled of shit and vomit and putrefaction.
Someone gagged behind him. Boss knew that was Rook.
“What the fuck?” Mouth stepped forward, accidentally crushed a bone and hopped back. “Shit. Sorry, guy.”
“Boss.” Cypher. And for the first time since he had known her, she sounded nervous.
“We’re finding Leak then Deacon and we’re out of here.” Boss shouldered his weapon. “No one goes off alone. In ninety seconds, we’re out the door either way.” He pointed to the lone hallway in the apartment. “Move.”
Rook couldn’t think of a single term to calm his nerves. There was no definition or explanation or measure of focus that could possibly push the images that were flashing in front of him from his mind. From the moment the door flew open and they had crossed the threshold, he knew these moments would be forever imprinted on the forefront of his memory.
He was living a nightmare and he knew it. There was no way to escape, not until they had seen their mission through. And that’s exactly what he wanted to do. See this through, get the hell out of here and never look back.
Rook fell in line behind Boss, his head now on a permanent swivel. He could feel uneven sprinkles of fluid dripping on him as he stepped carefully through the ruined apartment. He didn’t need to flash his light to the ceiling to know that stalactites of wet flesh were dangling above him, didn’t even want to, but the sight of this apartment served not only as a shock but as a warning. Something could be hiding up there in the darkness. So, he flashed the light upwards and discovered how bad it truly was.
They reached the first door. Boss kicked it in.
There were bodies — more accurately, pieces of bodies — in every possible position. Some were twisted and contorted in spider-like mockery of the human form. Others were dangling from chains that sunk deep into their skin, stretched out and posed like bleeding, disfigured marionettes, strung up and splayed out with parts from other broken bodies shoved into their abused and ruined orifices. Rook glanced in only briefly; just long enough to be sure it was safe.
“One hell of an orgy,” Mouth said, moving past the door. “Are we sure Leak is alive?”
“Yes,” Cypher said. “And that’s more troubling to me than if he were dead.”
Boss threw a grave look over his shoulder, and Rook didn’t need to ask why. A Sink Hole didn’t just open. Someone had to open it. And if that was the case, and all of these dead weren’t Leak… Well, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.
The next door led to the bathroom. That one, Boss didn’t have to kick in — it was held ajar by another shredded corpse.
Then they had reached it, the last door on the left. The spectral sounds coming from behind it blasted straight through Rook’s chest.