Holes in the Ground (28 page)

“That also remains to be seen.”

Bub continued to squirm, which only accelerated their sinking. Soon only their heads were above the cement.

“Doooo you think your god will forgive yooooou? See your self-sacrifice and taaaaaaake pity?”

Lucas shook his head, slightly. “You and I, we’ve been around a long time. We’ve done terrible things. We don’t deserve pity. Or forgiveness. But I am holding an ironic thought in me bonce, which I’ll share before we go under. I’m Lucifer, who fell from heaven. You’re Beelzabub. Neither of us presides over Hell, even though people think we do. So if we die, where do we go? Aren’t you curious to find out?”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“Well, my demon friend, you’re about to find out just the same.”

Then the concrete overtook them.

“The cement hardened in the pulley system,” Nessie said. “We’re not going anywhere.”

She was standing on Jerry’s shoulders, sticking her head through the access ceiling panel.

“Can we get out and climb the ladder?” Sun asked.

“The cement is coming down pretty fast, and Rimmer still isn’t strong enough to climb out. It would also mean leaving Wolfie here.”

Wolfie whined.

Jerry didn’t know what to do. They were so close. It was so cruel it was actually hysterical. Defeat snatched from the jaws of victory.

The tiny imp, bitten by the spider, crawled up Jerry’s shirt, looking concerned. He’d made a full recovery now. More irony there. Saved from venom to be entombed in cement.

“Sorry little guy,” Jerry said to him. “We tried our best.”

The imp frowned at him. Then it began to chirp. After what seemed to be a serious discussion among the imp folk, the little one hopped onto Jerry’s shoulder.

“We can help,” it said.

“Wha? Did you just talk?”

One of the other imps tugged on Jerry’s pants leg, pulling off some hardened concrete. It popped the rock into its mouth and chewed.

“They can chew through concrete!” Jerry said. He remembered General Kane mentioning the imps could deliver a nasty bite. Jerry never could have guessed how nasty.

The imps began to climb Jerry’s body, and then Nessie’s, until all four were standing on top of the elevator, looking down at the humans.

“But if you fix the elevator, how will you save yourselves?” Jerry said, his voice rising in pitch. “You’re too small to climb the ladder, and the rising elevator will squash you.”

The biggest imp squeaked. “We save. Save you.”

Then the imps began to ascend the elevator cable.

Sun helped Nessie get off of Jerry’s shoulders, and Jerry held her as they waited.

“We should close the panel,” Rimmer said. “Cement is getting in.”

“No!” Jerry shook his head. “If it’s open, the imps can jump back inside.”

“Kid, they aren’t coming back. And those four little guys aren’t going to free an elevator.”

“Shut up, Rimmer.”

A minute passed.

Two.

Three

A foot of cement pooled on the floor of the lift.

“It’s been quite an adventure, everyone,” Rimmer said. “
Vaya con dios
.”

Nessie clung to Jerry’s side.

Andy and Sun clutched hands.

Wolfie whined and licked Rimmer’s face.

Then the elevator groaned, jerked, and began to rise once again.

Everyone cheered, except for Jerry.

Come on. Jump through the panel, little guys.

Jump.

You came too far to die.

Don’t die.

Please.

Don’t die.

The elevator reached the exit floor.

The imps were nowhere to be found.

To everybody’s relief, the exit hatch opened when they reached the top of the stairs. Nessie still had her employee key card, which activated the lock automatically.

The blinding glow of sunlight caused them all to shield their eyes as they stepped out into the open-air. After so many hours of being surrounded by the stink of blood and cement, the fresh breeze from the forest was divine. Andy managed to catch his breath back and filled his lungs.

“Freeze!”

Andy looked around to see a line of black-suited soldiers pointing automatic rifles at them. Sun put her hands in the air and so did he. Nessie chose not to, instead she addressed the man in front of the line who seemed to be the leader. She held her employee card in front of her.

“My name is Gwen Nester. Senior Apprentice, facility 26, the Spiral. With me are Mr. and Mrs. Dennison-Jones, and Jeremy Preston, all brought in by General Kane. Among the injured is Sergeant Rimmer. He’s the one riding his, um, giant dog.”

Rimmer gave a wave from atop Wolfie’s back.

“Your
dog
?” The soldier said. “It’s rather large.”

“Organic dog food,” said Jerry, patting Wolfie’s muzzle. “Builds strong teeth and bones.”

The soldier kept the gun aimed. “Where is the General?”

“I assume dead,” Nessie answered. “Do you know if anybody made it out before us?”

The soldier nodded. “Several dozen employees have already been evacuated. Another helo is en route.”

“Did anything…
else
get out of here?” Andy asked.

“We have multiple readings of creatures escaping into the forest. But we have a lock on their GPS tags. We’ll get them rounded up in no time.”

Andy sighed in relief. These men seemed to have the situation under control.

“The facility has been completely destroyed,” Nessie said. “They’ll be nothing else through that door.”

“Roger that. You’re the current ranking officer of facility 26, Ms. Nestor. You’ll need to give a full report upon arrival at the Albuquerque facility.”

“Can I take a shower first?” she asked.

“Me, too,” Jerry said.

Nessie stared at him, wide-eyed.

“I mean, my own shower. By myself. Unless, you uh, need some help getting the cement off. I mean, I’d volunteer for the—”

Nessie kissed him.

“Isn’t that cute?” Sun asked.

“If they don’t shower soon they’ll dry and get stuck that way.” Andy turned to the soldier. “Look, my wife needs medical attention, and we don’t want to go to another facility.”

“Of course not,” said the soldier. “We’ll take your report en route to wherever you wish to go. Then you can go back to your honeymoon. You’ll need to swear secrecy, of course.”

Andy nodded. “I know the drill. How do you know we were on our honeymoon?”

“The Director of Homeland Security briefed us. He had a feeling that the faustlings were planning some sort of attack on our facilities. Texas fell a few hours ago and Toronto is currently under attack. We have it under control, though. Now that we know the play, we have armed forces converging on all of our sites. You can return to your lives as quickly as possible, Mr. and Mrs. Dennison.”

“Dennison-Jones,” Andy corrected.

A brief movement caught Andy’s eye, making him peer into the woods. He could not be sure, but he thought he saw a man staring at them.

Andy squinted harder.

Lucas?

But whomever Andy had just seen disappeared between the trees.

Just then, a helicopter came in for landing, ready to take them far away from this nightmare. Andy held his wife and wished with all his being that they had seen the last of Bub and his batlings.

Somehow, though, he knew that his wish would end up going unanswered.

But until then, he had a honeymoon to enjoy.

Little Sally O’Malley gave her father a great big hug. She relished the school breaks where she could stay home and help her daddy on their San Bernardino farm.

Sally loved the outdoors. Loved the feel of sunshine on her face and the sound of birds chirping. So much better than school where the only thing that covered her face was the shadows of bullies. Having a lazy eye was not the “beautiful difference” her daddy told her it was. Still, school was out for the week and she was here on the farm, ready to get her hands dirty.

“What can I do today, Daddy?”

Her father smiled, his cracked lips creasing between his salt and pepper beard. “Today we’re going to paint the old barn a new shade of red.”

Sally hopped. “Yay! I like to paint.”

“I know you do, honey. Now, go on and fetch me the paint can from the storage shed. I’ve already pulled out the one we need. It’s on the bench. Careful, it’s heavy.”

Sally shot out of the front door and onto the porch, before flying down the four wooden steps to the lawn. She raced across the sun-baked dirt towards the rickety old storage shed where her daddy kept the old ride-on mower and the tools he rarely used.

She yanked open the door—which was yawing open a crack—and stepped inside. Sure enough, the paint can was right where her daddy had said it would be, sitting on the work bench.

Sally took it, and it was so heavy she almost dropped it. Especially because the wire handle dug into her palm.

Then she heard a noise.

A soft chirping sound. Coming from deeper in the storage shed. It sounded like another stray cat. Those pesky felines were forever taking root in the farm’s various outbuildings. Before her momma had died, she always warned Sally about feral cats and the diseases they could carry. Sally had made it a point to try and not pet them when she saw them. But she wasn’t always successful.

She approached the hay bale carefully, mindful of the dangers of a startled animal. If it was a cat it could have her eye out in seconds.

The chirping continued.

Sally took her steps slowly, kept her approach quiet, but not completely silent. She didn’t want to creep up on the thing so well that she scared the bejesus out of it.

Sally stepped around the bench and looked over the top of the hay bale. The inhuman things which she saw hiding in the loose straw made her scream like an honest-to-God banshee.

Her momma had warned her about feral cats.

But she’d never warned her about monsters.

• • •

Ted heard his daughter’s screams and immediately dropped the pitcher of lemonade he’d been carrying. The pitcher was a family heirloom, but that didn’t matter none; Sally was all the family he had left.

The screams continued and Ted felt his bladder loosen as he raced across the lawn. His whole body ached with dread, wondering what had made his sweet little girl holler so mightily. The sound she was making was the worse torture he’d ever endured.

Then the screaming stopped, replaced by silence. Somehow Ted found that even worse.

He made it over to the storage shed and spotted the open padlock. His daughter was most certainly inside. What made Ted pause and take a heavy breath was the thick red puddle leaking beneath the door, staining the dirt and hay a deep crimson.

Oh Jesus Christ no…

Please, no…

Ted kicked open the door, ready to face down whatever wild animal or heinous pervert had found its way onto his land.

What he found, however, was nothing.

There was a sound, soft and delicate, coming from behind the hale bale in the center of the room. Ted stepped forward carefully, mindful of the sticky puddle beneath his boots.

He approached the hay bale, needing desperately to see what was on the other side, but also being unbearably afraid of what he might find.

If something had taken his little girl away, he would march right up into the farmhouse to fetch his shotgun. He’d put down whatever was responsible and then stick the barrel-end right in his own mouth. Sally was all he had left. If she was gone…

“S-Sally? You there, sweetheart?”

There was another soft sound.

Giggling.

Ted leapt forward and leaned over the hay bale. What he saw was like something out of a dream.

Sally looked at her daddy with sparkling green eyes. “Daddy, look! I found some friends.”

Ted studied the scene. He saw the messy paint can, red paint staining the sides. The puddles on the floor were obviously from a clumsy spill—not blood as he had dreaded.

But that was forgotten about now. What concerned Ted was the pack of creatures surrounding his daughter. The green-skinned little critters had pointed ears and swishing tails. They were much smaller than his daughter and were jumping and tumbling all over her, making happy squeaking sounds that mixed with the delirious laughter of his little girl. They looked like little devils with earthworm-like skin, but they were acting like puppies.

Sally looked up at her father, tears of happiness in her eyes. “I fought they was gonna bite me, but they just want to play. Can we keep ’em, Daddy? Can we?”

Ted looked at the bizarre little creatures and found that they were becoming cuter and cuter. The way they played, the way they squeaked. He counted four of the tiny little imps.

Ted shrugged his shoulders. “I…guess. I guess we can keep ’em.”

And so they did.

Dr. Frank Belgium was sitting in his easy chair, his adopted son Jack on his lap. The boy was an absolute marvel. Cute. Smart. More fun than Frank ever could have imagined.

Even if he hadn’t married his mother, he would have still wanted Jack around.

“Ma ma ma,” Jack said.

“I think he wants you,” Frank said to his wife, Sara. “He said mama.”

Sara got up off the sofa and took Jack in her arms. “He didn’t say mama. He said ma ma ma. He repeated his word three times.”

“Hmm. Now where do you think he picked that up?”

“Where do you think?”

“Do I do do do that?”

“Yes you do do do.”

They exchanged a smile. The moment was interrupted by the doorbell.

Frank moved to get up, but Sara told him to stay put.

“I’m not an invalid, dear. The doctor said I need the exercise.”

He pulled himself out of the chair, wincing at the slight pain from his still-healing wound, and used his cane to make it to the front door.

Frank didn’t like what he saw in the peephole. Two men in black suits. One holding a Secret Service badge.

“Who is it?” Sara asked.