Silence - eARC (26 page)

There was no sign of overhead cranes, or machinery, just some industrial-sized air ducts and silent fans up there.
So I guess the place gets heat in the winter. Figures they don’t care about summer, not that Silence ever gets warm. And whoever is hustling stuff into and out of this place is doing it all with forklifts.
Because there were plenty of boxes of something piled up in neat rows, and an old, rusting forklift parked right by her window.

At the end of the warehouse farthest from her, she saw what looked like a two-story office setup with lit-up windows. Whatever was going on, was probably going on there. She couldn’t make out anything from here because of the big stacks of boxes between her and it. She stayed crouched after she climbed through and down from the window; the crates must have had something heavy in them, because they held her weight and didn’t shift an inch. She thought that it was quiet in the warehouse, but it was hard to tell due to how large it was and how much stuff it had in it. She started towards the office, going slowly; even with the boxes in neat rows, they were piled high enough that she could get lost if she didn’t pay attention.

As Staci got closer to what she thought was the center of the warehouse, she began to hear talking…and, quieter, whimpering. Crouching low behind a couple of boxes at the end of her row, she noticed that there was a break in the lines of crates.. The talking and whimpering was growing louder. She licked her lips; it wasn’t any more dangerous now than it had been, but she still felt like the stakes had been raised. As she looked around the edge, she came to the sickening realization that she was right.

The first thing she noticed were the four kids: two boys, and two girls, all of them her age or maybe a little bit older. They were huddled together, and looked filthy; their clothing was torn, all of them were bruised, and they had clearly been treated roughly. They were all terrified, clinging to each other, but daring not to move so much as a muscle, save for the sag of their shoulders as they sobbed.

Past the group of teenagers were Sean and Bradan, flanked by two “cousins” each. They were both appraising the huddled group of teens, talking with each other. She strained to hear what they were saying.

“…procured earlier this morning. Hitchhikers who are also runaways; all of them originating far away from here, unlikely to be missed or reported any time soon, since they are already deemed missing. They’ll just enter that enormous database of ‘missing children’ that no one in this country seems to care about. I was alerted only a short time ago that they had been prepared and were waiting here, Father.”

“Still, this is ahead of the projected schedule that you had initially supplied to me. This is very good, Sean.
If
the ritual works.”

“It will. This is a small-scale, fast-acting test run; an accelerated version to highlight the effects and the resultant payoff. Once the Gate is prepared, we’ll be ready to begin the full-scale program. The police are already integrated for our purposes, along with the local media outlets; everything will be closed off and contained within our borders, so we’ll have full control to draw it out as long as we wish. And this is just the beginning, Father.” With that, Sean waved a hand towards the teens. The cousins on either side stepped forward, surrounding the frightened group, causing them to try to move closer to each other and their moans to grow louder. They were past the point of using words, they were so scared.

Bradan nodded. “Well, as the humans say,
show me the money.”

Sean laughed. He held his hands, spread above his head; the two cousins on either side of him did the same. Staci had expected some chanting or something, but this was done in utter silence. First, a cold white circle of light formed on the concrete around the teens. Then, in the next second, a dome seemingly made of cloudy white light sprang up, covering them. One of the boys gave a high-pitched shout and ran at the dome, only to bounce off it. Whatever that magic was, it affected physical objects, too.

Sean lowered his hands to shoulder-height, and so did the cousins; the milky color of the light of the dome shifted to pink, then to red, as the teens inside shouted or cursed or cried.

Whatever was happening, it was
bad.
Staci panicked for a moment; she considered throwing her hands up, screaming, throwing a rock, anything to make them stop—
make them stop!
She reached into her pocket, pulling out her cell phone and snatching at the charm. It was a focus, and it might help her with what she was about to try. She cleared her mind, then started to concentrate, building up the emotions and energy inside of her. Her urgency added to all of it, ramping the energy up. She focused her will on breaking the spell that was being cast; she didn’t recognize it, but if she could put the right monkey wrench in the gears, maybe it would seize. Hell, maybe even spring back and hit Sean in his rotten face. She fed her disgust for him into the spell, and the energy built up until she felt that she couldn’t stand it any longer. Silently, she released all of it.

The spell rebounded, fizzling out; she could see the pent-up magic sparking out into the air in front of her. Some of it kept coming back, though, and she didn’t even have time to throw her hands up before it struck her. It felt like all of her nerve endings were on fire for a split second, and she was frozen with the shock and the pain of it. All of the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood up on end, and she was thrown backwards to land hard on her rear. Her entire body felt drained of energy, vitality even, and her joints felt sore. It felt like she had been exercising for a couple of days straight with no water or rest breaks, and her vision was fuzzy.

She scrambled to her feet, just in time to see the dome turning a dark, old-blood red, and then there was a sudden flash of light inside that blinded her for a moment.

When she could see again, the dome was back to being milky white. But inside the dome, things were…horrifying.

The teens were clearly all suffering from the immediate onset of some sort of disease. Their bodies were rapidly being covered with boils, their eyes were bleeding and there was blood coming out of their ears. Their veins were dark, swollen.

And they were screaming in pain, dropping to the floor, curling up and writhing. Their hands contracted into fists, or they clawed at their faces, leaving bloody furrows. Blood was oozing from the corners of their mouths now, and when they opened the mouths to scream, their gums were bloody.

Staci clamped her hands over her ears, torn between wanting to rush at Sean and beat him until he reversed whatever it was he was doing, and wanting to run away, far away. Her stomach churned.

And she was completely terrified.

The screaming stopped…not because the kids were dead yet—they weren’t; horribly they still kept writhing on the ground—but because all that could come out of their mouths was a bubbly, whispery rasping.

Just as quickly as it had began, the spell stopped. The dome was still in place around the dying teens. She immediately saw why; even the concrete around the teens was seemingly infused with corruption, the ground cracking and buckling in some places with a horrid-looking ooze. Sean looked back to Bradan; the older man was nodding approvingly.

“That was…magnificent. The pain…what is the prognosis for the final version?”

“Two months, with medical care. Three weeks without, after the onset of stage three symptoms. Stages one and two weren’t properly displayed here, but should be equally…delectable, in the suffering produced. The rate of infection will be carefully monitored and controlled, so that the population isn’t reduced unnecessarily or too soon. With proper cultivation, we should be able to draw out the total harvest for a full year, maybe more depending on any influxes of population. Cleanup has already been established, as well; chemical spill, rendering the entirety of the town uninhabitable.”

“And what are the prospects of repeatability?”

“If we apply this model to suitable candidate populations…I’d say the prospects are high. This will be enough to sustain us for generations, especially once the process has become more refined. No more piecemeal hunting—well, save for sport. The power that this will generate will ensure our position, and the elevation of our clan.”

My god. They’re not just planning on killing Silence. They’re going to do this anywhere else that they can.
Staci felt a wave of nausea at the thought of other small towns like Silence; there one moment, gone with hardly a whisper the next. From the sound of things, the Blackthornes had already planned out exactly how they were going to keep it all a secret, too. Like Dylan had said, how many Rust Belt counties, ghost towns, and other blips on the map had been ground under the heel of Unseleighe?

With a final gesture towards the dome, there was another flash. Staci had spots in her vision, and felt lightheaded. When she was finally able to see again, the area where the dying teens had been…was scorched clean. The dome had disappeared, and the concrete that it had been containing was blackened. There was nothing left; not the teens, not the evil-looking ooze, not even ashes. A fresh wave of nausea washed over her.

She put out a hand to steady herself. And moved a little too quickly, knocking over an empty soda can that was balanced on the nearest stack of boxes. It fell to the floor with a clatter that was horrifyingly loud in the silence. Staci felt as if her insides had turned to ice, and for a split second, she froze in place. She didn’t bother to check to see if Sean and Bradan were looking in her direction; immediately, she started running, keeping low and thanking all the stars that her sneakers were nearly silent against the concrete. It was a good thing she had taken a moment to memorize the organization of the crates; it would have been far too easy to get confused in the rows and get lost. Before she knew it, she was at the rear wall again, scrambling up the stack of crates as quietly as she could and slipping out the window.

Staci nearly fell when she landed on top of the 55-gallon drum that she had stacked up under the window early, with the drum tipping wildly to one side before she caught her balance. She didn’t even think as she climbed off of it, running as soon as her feet hit the ground. She must have run nearly the entire way back to the diner, weaving through alleys and side streets, before she realized that she hadn’t heard any sounds of pursuit. No gang thugs, no guards in suits, nothing. She spent the next few minutes catching her breath, tamping down on her fear and the feeling that she was going to be sick. Watching those four kids…it had been like something out of a horror movie, but worse; worse because it was real and they were right there in front of her. Those weren’t special effects, or anything like that; those kids were dead, and had died in agony. And there hadn’t been anything she could do to stop it.

The guilt of that alone—having tried to save them, and failed—was almost enough to bring her to her knees on its own.
No. You did your best, even though you were scared to death. The thing you need to do now is make sure that it doesn’t happen to anyone else.
The thought was hers, but she heard it in Dylan’s voice.
That’s the next step. Call Dylan, let him know what I saw. We have to stop it.
Every shred of doubt that she had had about Sean’s intentions and involvement had disappeared the moment she saw him start casting the spell in the warehouse; all of her infatuation and soft feelings for him had been replaced with anger and resentment.

Confident that she was at least mostly composed, she brought up Dylan’s contact page on her phone and hit “dial.” He answered immediately, and she kept her words short, letting him know that she was okay, but that something really horrible had happened and they needed to talk in person immediately. After she hung up, she got a glass of water inside of the diner; her friend wasn’t working, so that saved the need for any chitchat. Once she was done, she dug her bag out of the bushes and started straight for home; if she hurried, she could get back, get her bicycle, and get to the Hill by the time Dylan arrived.

Chapter Twenty

It had been a matter of moments, not minutes, once she got to the house. Open the door, throw her bag inside, get a drink of water from the hose spigot outside and grab her bike. She hadn’t wanted to have to confront Mom, but from the darkness and quiet in there, either Mom was passed out, or she was working a double shift.

The thought of Mom going through what those kids had gone through suddenly passed through her mind, and she found herself on her knees, throwing up everything that was in her stomach. All she could do was retch, and try and shove those images out of her mind. Maybe she didn’t
like
Mom very much now, but…somewhere in the back of everything was the memory of the times Mom had dressed up like a fairy to surprise her and her friends, shower them with candy and gumball machine trinkets, and disappear again. Or when she’d taken Staci to the zoo, and showed her how to make the tigers come to the front of the cage by “puffing” at them. “That’s how they say ‘hello,’” Mom had told her, though Staci had no idea how Mom knew that. At that moment, she realized how very little she actually knew about Mom. Except she knew things only someone with a lot of education could…all those fairy tales Mom had told her as a kid had never come out of a Disney book. Some of them she’d never been able to find again when she’d looked in storybooks once she could read.

I can’t let this happen to Mom…the gang. I don’t know how…but I can’t. Whatever it takes, I have to stop it.

But Dylan would know what to do! Surely, Dylan would know.

She wiped her mouth, rinsed it out from the spigot and drank again, then got on her bike before any more horrible thoughts made her sick. Once she was riding, she could concentrate only on that, on getting a little more speed out of the bike, on her burning legs and burning lungs. On making sure she avoided the cop beats, as she hurtled through the dark and damp air, keeping to the side streets until she got to the road up the Hill.

She just hoped Dylan was going to be there when she got there. Undoubtedly he’d understood the urgency in her voice and he and Metalhead had raced to beat her there!

Except…he wasn’t.

When she put on the brakes and skidded to a halt at the usual spot on the Hill, there was no one there.

The Hill was silent, cold, and dark. It was so silent that all you could hear was the sound of the waves washing up on the beach far below. Despite being cold and damp, the atmosphere was so still it felt…airless. As if she couldn’t get a full breath. Or as if the air itself was pushing on her, keeping her from breathing in.

She almost didn’t hear the sound of someone moving behind her. She spun around, expecting Dylan, but the smile on her face died as soon as she saw the suit jackets. It was the guards from the warehouse. Both of them were smiling broadly at her, showing yellow and crooked teeth.

“Lost, miss? Maybe—”

“—we can be of some help.”

They looked to each other, still smiling, before looking back to her. Then they separated, circling around her in opposite directions. Like dogs—like those
hounds—
circling their prey. There was something feral and not quite human about them that put the hair up on the back of her neck. Staci’s breathing still felt strained, but this time she knew it was from adrenaline and panic. Surreptitiously, she reached into her shoulder bag and retrieved her cell phone, grasping the charm tightly. Her head snapped around constantly, trying to keep her eyes on both of the guards.

“I’m waiting for a friend! He’ll be here any minute, so I don’t need any help, thanks!” She sounded more shrill than she had wanted to, but she couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice.
How did they get here so fast? There isn’t a car anywhere; I would have seen it. Did they follow me? And if they did…how?
There had to be some sort of magic involved, and that made her even more scared. Both men looked extremely similar; they were both completely bald, so heavily muscled that their suits bulged, and had the same hollow, hungry look in their eyes.

“No, we don’t think anyone is coming, girl. More’s the pity, because you—”

“—don’t look like more than a snack, does she,
nisayenah
?”

“No, she doesn’t,
nishime
. The masters keep us pretty well-fed, granted. But it’s so rare for us to get any live meat.”

Something started to…happen, to both men. Their clothing stretched in certain places, and fell loose in others, as if they were losing and gaining mass in different places. Staci heard the fabric start to rip, and watched as their shoes burst at the seams, grotesquely long toes ending in yellow and cracked nails protruding through. Their wrists pushed past the ends of their shirt and jacket sleeves, the hands growing twice as big as frying pans with the same wicked nails at the end. Their elbows split through their jackets, and soon their shoulders did the same, shredding the clothing and causing it to fall to the ground. Where they had been previously well-muscled, they were now both sunken-chested, with protruding bellies. Their mouths, still smiling, each turned into a gigantic rictus, with the lips pulled back over their teeth and the jaws dislocating to hang open. The most unsettling thing was their eyes; the orbs had recessed into the sockets until two black pits remained…and then the sockets were lit up with what looked like red-hot coals.

Both of the men--the
monsters
--were fifteen feet tall.

One looked at the other—who kept his eyes on her. She felt like a tiny bird being watched by a tiger. “How should we divide her? Top and bottom?”

The watcher shook his head slowly. “No, the head, heart, and liver are the best parts. Better that we pull her apart like a wishbone. Fair that way.”

The first turned his head to look at her again, drool dripping from his lower jaw. “Right you are. Let’s start; I’m hungry, and the masters will want to know about this.”

Staci’s first instinct was to run away. Do something, anything that might distract these monsters, and then run as hard and as fast as she could. But to where? She shut the idea from her mind. These things, whatever they were, had tracked her from the warehouse, all the way from down by the docks. They were like the Hunter; they
loved
the chase before they captured their prey. There wouldn’t be any running or hiding from whatever these things were. She was going to have to fight if she wanted to leave the Hill alive.

The two monsters must have seen a hint of the mental calculation that she was doing; without so much as a shout or any other sort of telegraphing action, they sprang towards her, their ropey limbs propelling them unnaturally fast. Staci bit back a scream, then quickly cast one of the most powerful protective spells that Dylan had taught her.

Instantly, a milky white dome of energy sprung up around her, encompassing the ground ten feet on any side. She watched, as if in slow motion, as some of the energy passed from herself to the shield, empowering it and strengthening it. The monsters impacted with the shield simultaneously from opposite ends, both of them being thrown back a considerable distance by the rebound. This did nothing to change their expressions; they were both still smiling wide, the same hungry expression occupying what passed for their distorted faces.

Both creatures charged again, attacking the same spot, but not throwing themselves headlong into it. They only seemed slightly surprised to find that they were repulsed yet again, but this was quickly replaced with amusement.
Time to change that!
She focused her fear, frustration, and revulsion into the very center of her being, letting the energy grow and grow…then released it, crying out,
“Beura!”

An overwhelming flash lit the entire top of the Hill, like a miniature sun being born. Again, time seemed to slow down for Staci. She watched the threads and cords of magic spread out from her, from the focus of the cell phone charm, washing over everything; it even seemed to strip some of the skin and strains of energy from the surface of the two creatures, causing both of them to stumble backwards and fall to their knees, shielding their eyes. The grass, while ruffled as if by a stiff breeze, bent down, and was generally unharmed. Even the trees bowed slightly. Staci felt a moment of elation.
That’s
got
to send them packing!

The feeling died immediately, as she saw both of the huge creatures rise to their feet. They weren’t smiling anymore, at least. Now, they were snarling, and that was so much worse. Their maws—mouth was no longer an appropriate word to describe it—were dripping with bloody saliva, their prominent brows knit together. They were angry…and focusing all that anger solely on
her.

The monsters began to beat against the shield, the impacts sending spiderwebs of energy across the surface of the dome. Both of them uttered guttural screams while pounding furiously at her protections.
Got to try something new.
Staci had only practiced the next spell under Dylan’s supervision; she hadn’t tried it solo before, so she was a little scared as she began. She watched as some of the energy she had been preparing fizzled in front of her, and cursed herself.
Stupid, stupid. Dylan always said, “Focus and calm, power comes from that.”
She fought through her fear, and all of her other emotions this time, keeping her concentration on the desired outcome. She was sure of the mental picture of what she wanted to happen, sure of the effect it would have. Turning sharply to her left, she thrust both of her hands out in front of her; a blue-white ball of energy manifested a foot in front of her hands, and sped out to strike the chest of the monster that she was facing. Flesh and bone blasted away from the site of the impact, but the monster didn’t falter. It continued to rage and beat against the protective shield.
I’ve got to be hurting it! Just got to hurt it
more.

Staci kept her counterassault up, switching between the two targets from blast to blast. Every time she fired, another heaping chunk of gore flew from the creatures, splashing against the ground and steaming. But no matter how much she shot at them, they didn’t stop hammering away at the shield. She almost didn’t realize how much this was taking out of her, when suddenly she stumbled, half-falling to a knee and putting a hand out to steady herself; the monsters realized it immediately, however. They were both smiling, again, and began pounding at the shield even more fiercely than before. This time, they circled around instead of hitting the same spot over and over again. Her shots became more erratic and wild as she continued to fire energy at them.
What is going on?
All too late, it dawned on her what had just happened. She had been overconfident, and expended too much of her energy trying to attack the monsters; her shield, still siphoning energy from her, was starting to fail. Patches were showing through the milky white dome, and wherever the creatures struck, the shield became more translucent.

They were breaking through.

Staci tried to refocus herself, redirecting her energy towards the shield. But she was too drained at this point; it felt like she was pouring water into a sieve. The monsters must have sensed this; they stepped up their assault, and more of the shield crumbled before her, the energy dissipating in the air.

With each blow against the shield, Staci felt the impact as if it was striking her body. Surely, it had to be muted somehow, but still she felt the physical damage. Light, at first, as if someone was shoving her around. Then the hits became more urgent, more painful, like punches, then powerful kicks. She fell to the ground, throwing her arms over her head, but it was no use; however much she tried to cover herself, she still took blows all over her body. She had never really been in a fight before, and the panic she had tried to negate earlier flowed through her freely now. Her vision began to go dark around the edges as she saw the last of the shield give way, the final threads of energy falling to the ground and sparking out among the grass.

I hope it doesn’t hurt too much
, was Staci’s last thought before the monsters were upon her. Just when she thought that she would feel those horrible claws and teeth digging into her, there was a flash, and a cry. With the last ounce of strength that she could muster, Staci turned her head; one of the creatures had the end of a bright metallic arrow jutting from its chest. The other monster screamed, turning around just in time for an identical arrow to plant itself in its sternum. Both of the beings started scrabbling at the arrows, trying to dig them out; whenever they touched the shafts, their hands caught fire. Soon, there was smoke issuing from their mouths and eyes, and both fell to the ground, kicking and clawing at the dirt. With a final screech, both of the creatures were consumed in flame, finally still.

With a roar that sounded much more like something that should have come from the throat of a wild animal than the engine of a motorcycle, Metalhead screeched to a halt beside her, and Dylan spilled out of the bike’s seat, throwing aside what looked like a bow to Staci’s bleary eyes. Suddenly she was engulfed in a green glow, light so bright she couldn’t see through it, and the pain began to fade.

She just closed her eyes in exhaustion and let whatever it was do its work. At this point she didn’t even have any energy to spare to put two thoughts together at once, much less try and figure out what it was that Dylan was doing to her.

The light felt—well, it felt exactly like sunlight on her skin, like sunbathing on a perfect day, when the air wasn’t too hot, and there was just a whisper of breeze. It felt
good,
deep down, as if it was sinking into her, slowly taking away all the pain of the blows she had taken. She didn’t want to open her eyes, actually, didn’t want to have to think about those monsters, and especially didn’t want to have to think about what she had seen in the warehouse.

But she knew she had to do all those things. So, when the last of the ache had faded, she opened her eyes, and the glow around her vanished abruptly, leaving her pushing herself up off the ground as Dylan sat back on his heels. His skin had a sheen of sweat and looked paler than usual, and his eyes had dark bags underneath them.