The deeper into the black they went, the more gnawing the smell Khlid had first noticed at the black puddle became.
As Khlid and Samuel reached the furthest row, Chapman’s light spilled into view. He was running away from them, deeper into the darkness.
“Chapman!” Samuel called out. “Where is Rollins?”
Surprised, Chapman came to an abrupt halt and spun to face them, gun up. Seeing it was only Khlid and Samuel, he spun away again, returning to his chase, then stopped, deciding it was useless. He turned back to his unwanted partners, whispering in a hiss, “I had it!”
Samuel hissed back, “Point that somewhere else and answer my question.”
Chapman kept his pistol at the ready. “Rollins couldn’t keep up when I gave chase.”
“You left him?!” Samuel advanced angrily on Chapman.
“It’s all right.” Rollins’ voice came from behind Chapman.
Khlid nearly jumped out of her skin. “God!”
Samuel saw Rollins enter their light from the darkness behind, but he did not break his stride towards Chapman. “No, it is not ‘all right.’ Chapman, you—”
“Shut up!” The violence in Chapman’s voice silenced them all. “We are not alone. Positions.”
The command was simple, and they all knew how to follow it. Khlid aimed her weapon down the dark aisle from which she and Sam had come. Sam and Chapman stood shoulder to shoulder, their pistols pointing down the unexplored aisle ahead. Rollins passed Khlid, gun raised, backtracking. The rows of wine extending off into infinity were unnerving, but they certainly simplified defense.
Though Samuel had obeyed Chapman’s order, he wasn't ready to let the issue go. He glanced back to Rollins and said, “Are you okay?”
“Quite.”
Of Chapman he inquired, “So? Did you get a look at him?”
Chapman cocked his pistol’s revolver. “‘Him’? What I saw was not a man.”
Khlid almost broke her watch to look at Chapman. The worst thoughts this cellar had conjured sprang forward.
Something caught Khlid’s eye: in the wine bottle closest to her eyeline, the faintest ripple on the surface of the dark liquid within. If she had not been staring directly at it, the movement would have gone unnoticed.
Above her head, she heard a tiny creak. A small voice in the recesses of her consciousness was already screaming. She fought a moment to silence it before raising her eyes.
Khlid looked up and saw a nightmare.
Perched in the half meter of space between the top of the wine rack and the ceiling was the type of thing children feared seeing under their beds. A viper-like face extended out from the cranny on a neck far too long for any human. No lips existed to cover dead teeth, protruding from deeply recessed gums. Eyes blacker than anything nature could have produced. Skinless, writhing fingers, a mess of tendons terminating in bony points. The worst part was its skin. At first, Khlid thought the thing was wearing a baggy robe. As her eyes focused, it became clear those folds were flesh.
A line of spit dribbled from those exposed teeth, and as the demon realized it had been spotted, it emitted a guttural hiss. The noise was just enough to snap Khlid from a hypnotic paralysis.
“Above!” Khlid cried as she whipped her revolver up with one hand and fired. The monster did not move at all in response, but black blood spurted onto Khlid from the wound the bullet made in its shoulder. A sound like countless children shrieking filled the air. It was loud enough to make Rollins drop his weapon and clutch his head.
Samuel tried to react to Khlid’s warning, but he seized up at the overmastering noise.
The air vibrated with it.
Only Chapman found the strength to plant himself, aim upward, and fire his revolver.
He missed terribly.
The edges of Khlid’s vision began to swim. Her gun hand seemed disconnected from her mind. That shriek was becoming all of existence to her. She wasn’t sure how, but she managed to get another shot off.
She hit, if poorly.
The creature’s gnarled claw exploded upon impact with Khlid’s large-caliber round. Instead of recoiling in pain, it only slumped over and fell from its half-hidden perch. But it continued to shriek.
Khlid saw it would land on her, but the all-consuming noise seemed to have frozen her again. It crashed into her, a wet, heavy mass, and sent Khlid to the cold stone floor. The disfigured face filled her field of vision. She waited for long claws to tear her paralyzed body to pieces. She expected to see that mouth of rotted teeth coming for her helpless throat.
Instead, the shriek became a yowl of pain as the creature spasmed. Blood was flung about as the thing waved its ruined hand in the air. Droplets fell into Khlid’s mouth. She tasted rot and death.
The yowl, still the second-loudest thing Khlid had heard in her life, carried a touch less of the concentrated, mind-numbing insanity of the shriek. The difference was just enough to free Khlid’s body from paralysis. Her training returned to her. In one smooth motion, she punched her gun barrel directly against the monster’s head, and pulled the trigger.
A bucket’s worth of corrupted blood splashed over her face. The smell consumed her.
Reality disappeared for Khlid.
“What the fuck just happened?” Chapman’s voice seemed to come from across an ocean. “What is that thing?”
“Oh, God. Khlid!” Samuel’s voice found her in the void.
A weight was pulled off of her chest. Something began to wipe the foul blood from her eyes and mouth.
“Can you hear me? Khlid, answer me!”
She wanted to answer him, but everything felt… incorporeal. Khlid was adrift. She was not sure where she was or how she got there. Her senses were numb. She had barely felt the massive creature being lifted from her, like a dream half forgotten.
Fingers peeled her eyes open. Samuel’s wonderful face appeared before her. She smiled deliriously and said, “Hey, hon.” Suddenly, the instinct of panic crashed back in on Khlid. Her dazed eyes shot open. She lunged up, knocking Samuel off-balance and onto his ass. A startling amount of blood continued to pour from the creature’s head and shoulder. At least it seemed to be the monster’s equivalent of blood, although it was viscous, like the pus of an exploded cyst.
I swallowed some.
The thought sent her to her hands and knees to retch. Three times her stomach emptied itself. Samuel was rubbing her back. Once she was sure her stomach was empty, she looked over to the creature once again.
Chapman donned his gloves and crouched over the gray mass of loose flesh. He lifted its head in both of his hands and seemed to marvel at the continuing blood flow. Without warning, he dropped the head, picked up his pistol from where he laid it on the ground, and shot the thing in the chest two more times.
More black blood than Khlid had thought possible sprayed into the air at each shot. Chapman glared at the thing for a moment, then began to rummage in his pockets.
Samuel broke the silence, “Was it still alive?”
Chapman found what he was looking for, an empty vial. “No.”
“Then why keep fucking shooting it?!” The three inspectors turned to Rollins, sitting against the wine rack, uncharacteristically panicking. Sweat poured from his brow, and the kerchief he had pulled from his pocket shook violently.
Chapman held the vial to the creature’s neck, still dribbling the viscous blood. “Because the blood was still flowing, as if the heart was beating.”