CRYERS (11 page)

Chapter 19

Cobe called out for his brother
after ten minutes. He shouted at the top of his lungs after five more. Willem
had been gone too long. He should’ve told him to put something inside the
armory door to keep it from shutting. There was no chance Willem could hear his
yelling with it closed. Cobe prepared to scream his name again anyway but the
female voice they’d heard earlier on Level A cut him off.

“U
nauthorized entry detected in Level E…Cylinder
Room Eichberg…Lothair. Security, proceed with caution.”

All the
locked rooms above on all the levels were occupied by sleeping dead. Cobe
reasoned someone
living
had entered
one of those rooms. And since howlers didn’t have eyes, he also reasoned the
one that had killed Lawson couldn’t possibly have entered the proper six-digit
access code into any of the keypads. As hard as it was to believe, that could
only mean Trot was still alive. A small square of yellow light appeared far
above Cobe in the empty shaft. The rumble and squawk of shaking metal followed
moments later. The light winked off after a few seconds and the rumble stopped.
The light winked back on—a little brighter and a little closer—and the rumbling
started back up, a little louder.

Something was
coming down the shaft towards him. It was stopping at every level. The lawman
had said something about the elevator before they’d used stairs.
What was it?
The light got brighter. The
rumble-squawk got louder. Level after level.
Level after level
.

 
Lawson’s words came to him.
That would’ve been the easiest way down
.
Elevators were
built to carry folks level to level in seconds.

The elevator was a giant slab of
square metal designed to lift people up and down throughout the shaft. Cobe
forgot about the throbbing pain in his knee. He could see the dull, gray
underside of the thing bearing down on him out of the shadows less than four
floors away. He grabbed one of the door edges and started to pull his way out.
The pain shot up his leg again, and he ignored it, digging into the concrete
floor with his good foot and pushing. The noise of the descending elevator
became deafening. He could feel the vibration of its movement, the rush of
pushed air. He was halfway out.
My legs…
It’s going to cut my legs off.

Cobe made one last desperate
pull-push and rolled. The elevator came to a stop. He looked back and saw the
slab was a box—a little white room that traveled up and down through Big Hole.
It would start its way back up in a few moments. Cobe had to make a fast
decision. He couldn’t go after Willem weaponless and with his knee all busted
up. He needed one of the lawman’s guns, or better yet, the little gold key he’d
been carrying to get at all the other weapons. Cobe twisted around and started
to pull himself back in. The doors closed and he felt an unpleasant sensation
in his stomach, as if his guts were attempting to push out of his body all on
their own.

I’m moving. The elevator is going back up.

His guts lurched again in the
other direction and the doors slid back open. The first thing he saw was blood.
It was streaked all over the floor in frenzied patterns and spattered against
the walls. Cobe pulled himself out quickly onto Level XYZ before the doors
could close again. As soon as they shut, he heard the muffled rumble of the
elevator as it rattled away.

Cobe looked about. He saw the
remains of the howler’s foot and lower leg in a particularly large puddle of
red. A couple of the curled gray toenails had snapped off. Too bad the lawman’s
only shot hadn’t punched through the thing’s chest or head instead. The three
of them would still be together if he’d aimed a little higher. Cobe searched
for the big revolver he’d heard drop to the floor. It wasn’t there—nor was
Lawson’s body. A wide smear of dried blood trailed off down the hallway.

Cobe dragged his body along the
floor. If the howler had taken Lawson’s corpse somewhere else, he’d have to
find it—he needed one of those guns, or the gold key. If he came across the
creature first, he’d just have to deal with that when it happened.

***

A panel on the elevator wall
blinked into life at every level along Willem’s ascent, indicating the floor
number he was on. The doors would slide open, revealing endless purple-lit
hallways and locked doors, and then they would shut again. Willem didn’t like
the uneasy feeling the movement caused in his stomach, but he was too afraid to
set off down one of the empty corridors on his own. As uncomfortable as it was,
the elevator was at least lifting him out of the ground. Hopefully he would
find Cobe waiting for him on the other side of the doors when he reached E
Level—the floor that woman’s voice kept going off about—and the two could leave
Big Hole beneath and behind them for once and all.

His brother wasn’t there when the
doors opened on E. The dull mauve light had been replaced by blackness and
brief intervals of flashing green. Willem almost remained where he was, hoping
the doors would close quickly. There was something sinister about the way it
blinked on and off, as if something was hiding in the shadows, preparing to
pounce when the green light swung back seconds later. Willem collected his last
bit of courage and stepped out as the doors started to slide shut.

He was about to head left, but as
the green light flashed again he saw something small and dark on the floor. He
bent over and touched the round spot. It was sticky. He smelled the tip of his
finger.
Blood.
Willem ignored the
locked doors lining the hallway and concentrated on the floor. He wandered
another thirty feet and found a second drop. The corridor split into another
hallway. The way to his right was shorter. The green light flashed again and he
saw a door at the end of it. Willem held out his gun and walked slowly forward
as the tranquil-sounding voice of the woman warned of unauthorized access once
again. His heart started to beat faster when he saw the door was open a crack.
This is the room. Cobe
has
to be in there.
The end of his little
pistol wagged backed and forth like a dog’s tail. He had to be brave; he had to
control his fear.

The door opened wider and someone
stepped out into the corridor with him. Willem’s gun started to slip out of his
wet fingers. He gripped it harder and pointed it at the naked old man moving
towards him. “Don’t move…I’ll shoot.”

Lothair stopped and slowly raised
his frail-looking arms into the air.

Willem started to back away. The
man looked to be about a hundred years old, but he wasn’t going to take any
chances. He needed to put more distance between them in case he decided to jump
Willem between the flashes of light. “Why ain’t you wearing any clothes?”

“ABZE doesn’t provide its clients
with
pajamas
when they’re laid to
rest.”

The voice scared Willem almost as
much as the man’s appearance. The light flashed around again and he saw his
eyes for the first time. They were like those of the cat trapped in its little
cylinder on Level A—the cat some little girl from a long time ago had named
Smudge. Willem couldn’t tell in this light if they were pink, but he knew they
sure as hell didn’t belong to anything living. “My brother…I lost my brother.
Is he in that room behind you?”

“Trot is your brother?”

Trot’s alive!

“Trot was with me and my brother.
We were trying to get out of here when the howler came.”

“What is a howler?” Lothair
stepped closer.

Willem pointed the gun at his
face. “Stay right there. My ma used to warn me about sick old fuckers that like
touching children.”

“I won’t hurt you. I used to work
with children when I was a younger man. I enjoyed their company very much. My
name is Lothair. What’s your name?”

“I ain’t saying nothing until you
put some clothes on and show me where Trot is.”

“Your friend fell and hit his
head. He’s resting.”

“Show me.”

Lothair led him back into the room
and Willem saw a dark form on the floor. “It’s too dark in here. Make the light
come on.”

Lothair looked next to the door
and located the panel. He clicked the switch up and the light burned his eyes.
He shielded them with hands until the glare became bearable. “It’s as I
said…your friend fell and hurt himself. He’s still alive.” Willem watched as
Trot’s chest rose and fell steadily. There was only a tiny spot of blood on the
floor under his head. He would be alright, Willem thought, without noticing the
larger, pink patch a few feet away that Lothair had cleaned up with his tongue.

Lothair found another panel near a
bare section of wall across from the cylinder and pressed one of the two
buttons. A hidden door slid open before him, revealing a compact space housing
a shower stall and toilet. It had been a thousand years since he’d taken a piss
and the urge to go after all that time still wasn’t there. He didn’t find the
thought amusing. He pressed the other button and a second door slid open next
to the washroom. It was a small closet with a few sets of clothes hanging
neatly on a single rod. Lothair didn’t care what he wore. It didn’t matter to
him if he spent the next millennium wearing nothing at all; any sense of
humility he may once have felt was as dead inside him as was a sense of humor.
He grabbed a white undershirt and black pants.

When he had finished dressing
Lothair saw the boy still had his weapon trained on him. “Either shoot me or
come and help me wake up the rest of my family. Your friend will be fine until
we return.”

“I ain’t going nowhere with you.
I’m gonna wait for Trot to wake up, then I’m going to find Cobe.”

“Cobe… Your brother.”

Willem nodded.

Lothair found a belt and fastened
it through the pants. He didn’t bother with any of the socks or shoes arranged
neatly at the bottom of the closet. “There, I’m all dressed and I’ve shown you
where Trot is. Will you at least tell me your name now?”

“Willem.”

“Was it just the three of you down
here?” Willem nodded again. “Two boys and a slow-thinking adult. The three of
you found your way into a maximum-security installation three kilometers
underground without any help at all. I find that hard to believe.”

“Just me, my brother, and Trot.”

Lothair knew the boy was lying.
There were more of them. “What is it like out there? Are there cities? Are
there survivors?” The gun dropped slightly, but Willem remained stubbornly
silent. “Look at me, Willem. I’m an old man…no threat to you at all. Can’t you
at least answer a few of my questions before you leave?”

“Me and my brother was headed
west, to a place called Victory Island. Trot caught up to us. We lived in a
village called Burn. There’s another town to the north called Rudd. That’s
where our ma was born.” His bottom lip quivered as he spoke. “Lode killed her
and our pa. Cobe and me escaped…left that gawdamn town before he could hurt us,
too.”

“All on your own?”

“Yeah... All on our own.”

“Tell me about the
lawman
.”

Willem’s eyes opened wide. He
raised the gun back up. “How you know about him?”

Lothair’s raspy voice explained it
to him. “Trot mentioned his name as I was about to break his back over my knee
and feed on his insides.” He squatted down until he was face to face with the
boy. Trot’s unconscious body was the only thing separating the two. Willem
could smell something ancient and foul on Lothair’s breath. “I’m going to eat
your friend anyway. Tell me what I want to know and I won’t force you to
watch.”

Lothair lifted one of Trot’s limp
arms towards his lips, and Willem pulled the trigger. It made a clicking noise.

“That
is
a nice weapon,” Lothair said. “I imagine it would be exceptionally
lethal in the right hands…especially if it was loaded. I noticed the clip was
missing in the hallway.”

Willem didn’t know what any of
that meant. He lunged forward and drove the useless pistol’s end into one of
Lothair’s pink eyes. Lothair made a grunting noise and rolled away. Willem
rolled in the opposite direction, towards the open door. He rushed through and
fled down the hallway. The green light was still flashing intermittently but
Willem no longer cared what might be waiting in the shadows when it turned
black. Nothing could be worse than what he’d left behind. Poor Trot. There was
nothing Willem could do to help him. He had to find his brother. They had to
get out before more dead people from Big Hole started to wake up.

He turned left where the corridor
split and came to a sudden stop.

The howler was facing him, less
than ten feet away. Its long gray fingernails scraped along the floor as it
crawled forward, dragging the bloody stump where Lawson had shot its lower leg
clear off.

It was a one-legged monster facing
off against a one-armed boy.

Willem didn’t care much for his
odds.

Chapter 20

Cobe hoped it would be over fast.
He dragged himself around a corner, his chest rubbing off more of the blood
trail he was following. When the howler came to get him, he
prayed
it would finish him off quickly.
Cobe had never put much faith in the gods. A lot of folks back in Burn
worshipped all sorts of them; they prayed to pigs born with two tails, and
mangy dogs with different-colored eyes. They praised and wailed about old
relatives for saying wise things about stupid shit that had happened ages ago.
Some believed there was only one God. Cobe didn’t believe in any of them. At
least not since his parents had swung from the tree. There weren’t any gods.
There wasn’t a single all-knowing entity watching over everything. And if there
was—he sure as hell wasn’t listening to Cobe. He kept on praying anyway.

There was nowhere else to go, and
nothing else to try. His only hope was to find the lawman’s remains. If by some
chance he could get a hold of one of those guns before the howler got to him,
he would at least have the opportunity to take the ugly bastard out with him.

The trail of blood came to a
stop—or at least ended at the bottom of a door. Cobe craned his head up to see
where he was. A sign read WASHROOM/MED STATION. There was a simplified image of
a man and woman above the words. Cobe couldn’t see any keypad. He pushed near
the bottom and the door opened inward with a squeal. He heard something dripping.
Cobe clutched at the doorframe and pulled himself up. He bit down on his lip,
hoping it would distribute some of the pain from his knee. It didn’t help. He
stagger-hopped in and the door swung shut behind him.

It’s in here. There’s no other place it could’ve gone.

There was a series of smaller
doors inside. Cobe saw a puddle of pink spreading out from under the one
furthest away.
Blood and water.

He hobbled to the front of the
stall, dragging his bad leg after him, and no longer caring how much noise he
made. Howlers had no eyes; their sense of hearing and smell was unquestioningly
superior to his. This one
knew
he was
here. Why bother trying to hide it?

There was a foot of open space
between the floor and the bottom edge of the door. Cobe bent down to see what
he could see. A brown boot jerked and slipped through the muck on the floor.
It’s eating him.

A weak but gruff voice spoke from
the other side. “Come on in…door ain’t locked.”

Cobe pushed and found the lawman
sitting on a smooth white pedestal made of stone. The big gun Cobe had been
searching for was pointed at his face. “Hell, I don’t even know if I have the
strength to pull the trigger.” Lawson made a sound halfway between a laugh and
a cough. The gun dropped slowly to his lap.

“All that blood… How can you be
alive?” Cobe asked.

“Too stubborn to die. Besides, it
ain’t all my blood…most of it come from the howler when I blew its leg off.”
The lawman looked terrible; his skin was clammy gray, and there were purple
rings under his eyes. He took a few ragged breaths before speaking again. “Yer
leg…what happened?”

“Fell down the elevator shaft.
Think I might’ve bust my knee trying not to land on Willem.”

“Where is he?”

Cobe shrugged guiltily. “Not sure.
He left me there and went to find us some weapons from the armory. Got worried
waiting for him so I set out after you.” Cobe didn’t mention he’d set out to
scavenge off the lawman’s dead body. He didn’t much see the point in that.

“Stupid kid. He can’t get anything
out of there without the key.” He patted one of the pockets on his shirt
without taking it out. “That knee…how bad is it?”

“Pretty bad.”

Lawson could see how swollen it
was under the fabric of Cobe’s dirty pants. “There’s a medical station behind
you, on the wall.” Cobe turned and saw it. “Inside are all sorts of cures for
all kinds of injuries. Go to it.”

Cobe shuffled over to the white
cabinet set in the wall and swung the metal door open. It was smeared with
Lawson’s bloody fingerprints inside and out. It appeared as though he’d already
made use of some of the contents. There were multiple shelves inside,
half-filled with packages containing bandages and rolled strips of gauze.
Individual pills vacuum sealed into foil pouches lined the middle shelves, and
on the bottom were tiny bottles of antiseptic, decongestants, and half a dozen
other ancient medicines. Cobe didn’t know what most of the stuff was, and he
couldn’t see how any of it would lessen the pain in his knee.

Lawson grumbled from his toilet
perch. “Top shelf, over to the right. Take out one of the packages that reads
Ambrufel
.” The flat pouches were about
the size of Cobe’s open hand. He took one and started to read the tiny printing
on front. He thought his reading skills were fairly decent, but most of the
words made no sense to Cobe at all.

“Don’t worry about what the
gawdamn thing is, just use it,” Lawson said. “Pull it open at the corner, and
take off the clear backing until you get to the sticky part.”

Cobe followed the lawman’s
instructions. When he’d removed the plastic off the back he smelled something
that made his nose burn and eyes water. There was a small needle pointing a
quarter of an inch out from the middle of the adhesive patch. “What…What am I
supposed to do, lick it?”

“Is yer tongue broken?”

Cobe shook his head.

“Then pull yer pant leg up and
stick that thing onto yer knee. Make sure the pointy part goes into where it
hurts most.”

Cobe did as he was told. He
applied the sticky area gently to the majority of his knee. He felt a cooling
sensation spread through his leg almost immediately.

“Did you poke the needle into yer
skin?”

“Do I have to?”

“If you want to walk again, you
do. Go ahead, just smack down on it.”

Cobe expected it would hurt like
hell, but when he slapped down he felt nothing at all. “I don’t think it
worked. Maybe the pointy part broke off.”

“If you can’t feel nothin’, then
it’s working just fine. The smelly stuffs numbs yer skin so you don’t feel the
jab.”

Cobe limped back to Lawson. His
clothes were shredded and soaked in blood. Cobe knew the lawman was old, but he
had never seen him this rough-looking. There were dark hollows under his
cheekbones that puffed out rapidly as he struggled for air.

“You gonna die?”

“Hell, no… Just catching my
breath.” To prove his point, Lawson grabbed hold of a bar secured to the wall
and pulled himself up. He pointed down at the open toilet. “Don’t know how, but
the water’s still fairly fresh down here. Cleans out the cuts and fights off
infection.”

“I don’t think you’re ready to go
facing that howler again.”

“You want yer brother to take it
on alone?”

Cobe followed the lawman back out
into the hallway. “It doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”

Lawson was looking down the
corridor both ways. The big gun seemed steadier in his hand, the color was
returning to his face. “What?”

“My knee. I can almost put all my
weight back on it.”

“Ambrufel’s an amazing thing,” he
whispered back. “The little bit of medicine stored in that needle is powerful
enough to mend small fractures. You won’t even know you hurt yerself in another
minute or two.”

Cobe wondered why such powerful
and advanced people had chosen to hide deep in the ground and put themselves to
sleep. The world above was a hostile place, but these people could have tamed
it easily enough with their advanced weaponry. Sickness and disease could be
wiped out with their wondrous medicines. How bad could things have been above
to drive them far below?

They crept down the hall,
following the trail of howler blood, all the way back to the elevator and
stairwell. Lawson had been right; the pain in Cobe’s knee was gone. Even the
lawman looked healthier. Perhaps it was the fact he still had people to protect
that brought life rushing back into his system, or maybe he’d found other
medicines in the washroom to help replenish all that lost blood. Maybe it was
just as he said—that he was too stubborn to die.

Cobe still held the lawman
partially responsible for the death of his parents. He’d wanted to spit in his
face multiple times, and he had kicked him square in the nuts for smacking his
brother. But he had kept Cobe and Willem safe outside the walls of Burn. He had
shared his food with the boys and given them water to drink. Lawson had saved
their lives twice from howler attacks, and he was helping Cobe find his brother
now. Maybe the lawman wasn’t such a mean old fucker after all.

Cobe followed him down the stairs,
not sure where the anger he still felt was coming from.