His tone was matter-of-fact, his gravely voice almost bored. His eyes flicked to the table leg in her hand, and he laughed. Then, moving quickly, he lashed out at her with the belt. It cracked toward her. Heather felt the breeze from its passage as it narrowly missed her cheek. She managed to avoid the blow, darting to the side, but she stumbled and lost her footing. She fell to her knees, wincing in pain as the rough stone floor dug into her flesh. Scug lunged toward her, still cackling with laughter. Without thinking, Heather reached out with one hand, grabbed one of the smaller infants by the arm and stumbled to her feet. She swung the squalling baby, smacking Scug in the side of the head with the flailing infant. Both adult and baby tumbled to the floor. Scug stirred. The baby did not.
Heather ran for the exit. She gritted her teeth, ignoring the pain flaring in her ankle.
Behind her, Scug and the other mutants went berserk. They shrieked their anger, bellowing and lashing out wildly, slamming fists, flippers and stumps against the grotto’s walls and staggering about in fury.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” Scug bellowed. “Oh, you are going to hurt for that!”
One of the creatures slithered in front of Heather, blocking her escape. It had crude, bony flippers instead of legs, and its arms seemed more like tentacles than anything useful. She wheeled around, searching for an opening. Howling with rage, Scug threw the flashlight at her.
It smashed against the wall, plunging the room into darkness again. Heather was facing the crevice when the blackness returned. Swallowing hard, she ran straight ahead, plunging blindly, arms outstretched in front of her.
“You bitch,” Scug yelled. “You scraggly little bitch! I’m gonna knife-fuck you. I’ll pull out your intestines and stick my dick in them. I’ll pop out your eyeballs and fuck the sockets.”
Heather’s bare foot came down hard on one of the babies. She slipped but maintained her balance. Something warm and wet squished between her toes. The infant wailed, thrashing beneath her foot. She stepped over it and limped on.
“Stop it,” Scug shouted. “Leave them alone! I swear to Ob, when I get my fucking hands on you, I’m going to give you to Noigel and let him do what he does best.”
Heather didn’t know who Ob was, or what Noigel’s specialty might be, and she didn’t care. She didn’t intend to stick around long enough to find out. Her fingers brushed against the wall. She groped around, found the crevice, and plunged into it. Behind her, the sounds of fury reached a deafening level. Heather scrabbled back up the slope, ignoring the sharp rocks beneath her hands and feet. She kept low, so that she wouldn’t bump her head on the low ceiling. When her knee came down on a shard of broken glass from her lantern, she barely winced. Panic and adrenaline drove her onward.
She estimated that she’d reached the point where she’d first encountered the infant hordes before pausing to listen for pursuit. Sure enough, they were following. Scug was in the lead, judging by the sound. Heather scurried on, crawling through the darkness, not knowing what lay ahead, nor bothering to consider it.
The stench grew worse. Whatever it was that the baby freaks had been crawling around in, the source lay up ahead. Heather breathed through her mouth and refused to stop. Her entire body trembled, and now the pain started to creep in. She ignored it and gritted her teeth.
Her pursuers had grown quiet, but she could still hear them back there, relentless in their goal. They crawled and slithered without speaking. All she heard now were fingernails and claws on stone. She felt a breeze on her face, and when she patted the tunnel walls, she got the perception that it was widening again. Heather tried standing. While she couldn’t straighten up to her full height, she managed to get into a sort of crouch. Her shoulders and back brushed against the ceiling. Ducking down a little bit more, she continued on until the passage broadened even more. Then she stood and stretched.
Heather paused. The stench grew more powerful. She could no longer hear the sounds of pursuit behind her, but Heather had no doubt that Scug and his minions were still there, creeping stealthily forward in the dark, intent on sneaking up and catching her unawares. Her only chance was to keep moving forward. Still, she hesitated, scared of what lay ahead. She was hoping for a way out, yes, but not one that led even deeper into the darkness. What if the blackness grew so dense and so complete that it snuffed her out? What if she simply ceased to exist?
I’m losing it. The darkness isn’t a living thing. Keep moving, Heather. You owe it to Javier and the others. Go, damn it. Just go!
She shuffled forward, her body aching with every hesitant step. Her feet came down on something soft. Frowning, Heather knelt on the cavern floor and reached out experimentally. The material felt like a mix of newspaper strips, scraps of cloth, and fiberglass insulation. When Heather had been younger, she’d owned two hamsters named Tweedle-Dee and Totally-Dumb. The bedding in the bottom of their cage had consisted of newspaper scraps and pine shavings. This reminded her of that.
The stench was at its strongest here, but so was the breeze. Both washed over her, seeming to cling to her body. Heather coughed, unable to control the urge any longer. She froze, listening for any sign that she’d given her position away, but the tunnel remained silent behind her. Heather started to wonder if maybe she was wrong. Maybe Scug and the others had given up. Or maybe they were waiting. Maybe this was a dead end and they knew she’d have to come back.
She coughed again, gagging. It occurred to her that if she dropped lower, perhaps the nauseating odor wouldn’t be as bad. After all, wasn’t that what firemen said to do during a fire? If you dropped to the ground, the smoke couldn’t reach you, because it climbed higher. Maybe the same thing would work in this situation. Anything was better than kneeling here and breathing it in. She could taste the reek in the back of her throat—oily and sour.
She hunkered down on her hands and knees and crawled forward. The material on the floor rustled beneath her, but Heather pressed onward, deciding that it was too late to change course. Her eyes still watered and stung, and her throat still felt coated, but the stench seemed more tolerable at ground level. Heather didn’t know if it was her imagination or not. Then her hand came down on something hard and cylindrical. Cold metal. A flashlight!
Oh please let there be batteries in it. Oh please oh please oh please . . .
She debated whether to try it. If her pursuers were still there, the flashlight would undoubtedly lead them right to her. On the other hand, if they weren’t, having some visibility would help her escape that much quicker.
If it even works. Don’t know until I try it.
Holding her breath, Heather found the button on the side of the flashlight and pressed it. She almost passed out when the light came on. It was weak, but compared to the utter blackness she’d found herself in a moment before, the beam flooded the space with dazzling brilliance. Spots floated in front of Heather’s eyes. She closed them for a moment and then opened them again, squinting and letting them adjust. When she could see again, she looked around.
She was in a large, round chamber, with tunnel openings on each end. The floor was indeed piled high with bedding—shredded newspapers and magazines, strips of old blankets, sheets and clothing, rolls of fiberglass insulation, and other soft material. Heather felt a bizarre surge of pride that she’d been able to identify the assortment just by touch. Scattered among the litter were old, broken toys—a dump truck missing a wheel, a doll with stuffing leaking from its seams, wooden blocks covered with mold.
With dawning horror, Heather realized that she was standing in some obscene nursery.