“I’d still like to know how the fuck they get that shit to burn in the rain,” Taz commented.
We drifted closer.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Juan hissed. “Everybody knows the plan, right? Taz and I lay down a distraction while you guys rescue the others.”
Taz and Ducky nodded. I smiled, trying to look self-assured but feeling scared and foolish and very small. My sphincter muscles contracted and my balls shriveled up to the size of raisins. I flipped the wet hair out of my eyes, took a deep breath, and tightened my fingers around the pistol.
Then, suddenly, directly in front of us, the building emerged from the fog like some island cliff face. Upraised voices drifted through the mist, echoing around us. Chanting words that I’m sure weren’t part of any language spoken on Earth. I shivered; wet and cold and miserable.
Juan leaned forward, peering through the rain. “Anybody see Louis and Christian’s boat?”
Silently, we shook our heads.
“Maybe the Satanists took it inside,” Ducky suggested. “Put it with their surfboards and shit?”
“Could be,” Juan agreed. “Keep an eye out for it. We might need it to get everybody back home, if there’s a lot of prisoners.”
We pulled alongside the building, next to an office window. Ducky and I struggled to hold the raft in place while Juan stood up, peered through the window, and investigated.
“I don’t think there’s anybody inside the room,” he said.
“Want to go in that way?” Taz asked.
Juan nodded. “It beats the hell out of using that grappling hook.”
“Word,” Taz agreed. “I’m not up for that Pirates of the Caribbean shit, anyway.”
Juan tried opening the window.
“It’s locked,” he whispered, “but I’ve got a key.”
He smashed in the glass with the butt of his rifle. I held my breath, waiting for sounds of discovery or alarm, but the chanting continued. I noticed that Ducky was holding his breath as well.
Juan looked back at us. “Let’s do it.”
He gripped the sides and climbed through the hole. Taz and I followed after him. Ducky tossed us the rope, and I tied the end to a desk leg, securing the raft against the tide. Then he clambered through as well.
It was dark inside the office. What little light there was came from two fluorescent green glow sticks hanging from a nail in the wall. The damp, rotting carpet felt like a sponge under our boots. The musty air clogged our lungs; the furnishings were covered with mildew.
Juan clicked on his flashlight.
Somebody had spray-painted graffiti on the wall and the cubicle partitions. I recognized some of it—the obligatory pentagram and 666, snakes, demonic faces, and symbols from albums by Iron Maiden and Blue Oyster Cult—all standard high-school amateur devil worship crap. But there were other things, too, figures that I’d never seen before, figures that made me shiver just looking at them. There was writing:KANDARA RULZ! IA DE MEEBLE UNT PURTURABO! THERE IS NO GOD BUT OB! KAT SHTARI! LEVIATHAN DESTRATO UR BEHEMOTH!
“Yo, what the hell is that shit?” Taz whispered. “Who the fuck is Kandara and Ob?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “Could it be a gang thing?”
Taz shrugged. “I never knew a brother named Ob. And there ain’t no crews in Baltimore named Kandara. Must be from out of town. Probably New York or something.”
Another drawing showed a circular maze spiraling in on itself. In the center of the spiral, there was a squiggly blob with half-moon-shaped eyes and tentacles. It was cartoonish and crude, like something from a kid’s doodle pad—but unsettling, too. The eyes seemed to be staring at us. Below the image was scrawled,HE WAITS AT THE HEART OF THE LABYRINTH!
“The fuck does that mean?” Ducky asked. “What’s a labyrinth?”
“It’s another word for a maze,” I explained.
“Maybe they was into Pac-Man and shit,” Taz joked, but his smile flickered, and there was no laughter in his voice.
Juan hesitated, then reached out and touched the graffiti. His fingertips came away red. He sniffed them.
“It’s blood,” he hissed. “Fresh fucking blood!” With a look of disgust, he wiped his fingers on his pants.
“This is bad,” Ducky whispered. “This is really fucking bad. Maybe we should just go, ya’ll?”
“Man, screw that!” Taz punched his shoulder. “You fucking scared, man?”
“Hell yes, I’m scared! You are too, motherfucker!”
“I ain’t scared, bitch! I ain’t scared of nothing. I’m ready to smoke these fuckers.”
“Both of you shut up,” I said. “You’re going to give us away.”
Taz scowled at me, but kept quiet. Ducky skulked away.
I picked up a wet book. The cover had some kind of Arabic writing. I opened it up, but the pages were like wads of cottage cheese. I dropped it. My fingers felt greasy.
Ducky noticed my discomfort. “That book didn’t have that White Fuzz shit on it, did it?”
“No,” I said. “Just felt nasty. Oily.”
Juan crept toward the open door. We tiptoed along behind him. The hallway was empty and lit with more hanging glow sticks. The air reeked, so I breathed through my mouth. Rotten food and other refuse littered the floor. A pile of feces with flies crawling over it. Empty beer cans and wine bottles. A moldy porno magazine. A withered head of lettuce covered with maggots. Several used condoms. A severed human hand, also swarming with maggots. An eyeball with a strand of gristle or muscle still attached to it. Ducky and I both recoiled in disgust when we saw it.
Taz kicked a round object with the toe of his boot. The object skittered across the floor towards me.
It was a human heart. Worms crawled through the meat.
I turned away, gagging. Bile crept up my throat.
“You okay?” Juan asked.
I nodded, unable to speak.
We came to the end of the hallway, and Juan pointed to a closed door marked exit. As we approached it, my breath caught in my throat. I imagined a dozen blackrobed Satanists on the other side, their daggers held high, just waiting to jump us.
Taz nudged the door open with the barrel of his gun, and the hinges squeaked. Flakes of rust and chipped paint showered us from above. The stairwell was pitch black and quiet. After a moment, we slowly started up toward the roof, with Taz now in the lead. The darkness seemed almost palpable, like a living thing, pressing against me. My faltering hand found the cold handrail, and I felt like screaming. I gripped my pistol tighter.
Carefully, we continued upward, one floor, then two. We could hear the chanting clearly now, along with the crackle of the flames and the frightened cries of the captives.
“This is the top floor,” Juan breathed in my ear. “The roof is on the other side of the door. Be ready and be quick. Don’t freak out on us, Kevin.”
I felt him leave my side, and I started to hyperventilate. I tried to swallow and found that I couldn’t. There was a slight scuffling sound as Juan and Taz moved towards the door. Standing next to me, Ducky mouthed a Hail Mary.
I had time to wonder if there really was a heaven, and if so, would I be welcome there.
Then Taz kicked the door open and all hell broke loose.
“Neighborhood watch!” He opened fire. “You motherfuckers are bringing the property values down! Consider yourselves evicted!”
Everything happened very quickly after that. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I guess I thought that everything would happen in slow motion, like in a movie. But it didn’t. Juan followed Taz through the doorway and began shooting as well. I heard gunshots and an explosion, unintelligible shouts and then more gunfire. My ears were ringing and the gunshots reverberated in my chest.