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Authors: Sam Witt

Tags: #Fiction, #Urban Fantasy

Ghost Hunters (5 page)

BOOK: Ghost Hunters
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9

I
t was easy to see how they’d missed the little tunnel Mickey had disappeared into. Coming from the direction of the rope ladder, the hole’s near edge pushed out farther than the far edge, making it virtually invisible from that side. Dick motioned for Randall to get the camera aimed at the hole. He knelt down next to it and put on his game face. “This is where they took Mickey, our sound technician. She’s only been gone a few minutes. We’re going in to get her back.”

Dick looked into the tunnel, eyes cold and hard. “Ready or not, we’re coming for our girl.”

He turned back to Randall after a beat. “That’s good. Just keep rolling once we’re in, never know what we might find.”

The rest of the crew was fidgeting nervously, shifting from foot to foot as they eyeballed that narrow passage. Even Nancy looked ruffled, and her sister was still rocking on her heels and sucking on her cigarette like a baby with a pacifier. Dick waved the gun in Nancy’s direction. “Ladies first.”

Nancy straightened her spine. “Go ahead and shoot me, big man. I’m not going into that hole.”

Dick tilted the gun in Liz’s direction. “This game’s getting boring. Your sister’s going to take a bullet if you don’t stop being such a bitch about this. You should be working
with
me if you want to get out of here in one piece.”

Lazy spirals of smoke drifted past Liz’s face and hung over her head like a gray halo. “I’ll go, but not ‘cause you’re waving that pea shooter around. If you didn’t get that girl killed, she’s gonna need our help.”

With that, Liz flicked her cigarette butt at Dick’s face with unnerving accuracy. It bounced off his forehead in a shower of sparks that had him slapping at his face. Before he had a chance to retaliate, Liz was disappearing into the hole, her sister following right behind. Despite getting what he wanted, Dick couldn’t help but feel he’d come out the loser this time. He wiped the last of the ash off his forehead and nodded to Randy. “After you, big guy. Be sure you get whatever happens to them in there.”

The cameraman disappeared into the hole, his face pale and covered in sweat. Dick knew this was hard on Randall; the guy was a good hundred pounds overweight, and this much excitement put his aging ticker to the test. He just hoped Randall would be able to see this through to the end, because Dick had no idea how to operate their main camera. He could turn the light on and off, but that was the extent of his knowledge. He followed Randy into the hole, ducking his head to fit into the narrow passage.

The tunnel smelled faintly of ammonia, a sharp, stinging scent that filled his nostrils. There was something else underlying the stink, something thick and earthy that made Dick’s stomach churn. More guano. The narrow tunnel pressed in on him from all sides, squeezing him like a cold stone fist. He found himself edging up against Randall, trying to stay close to the light, close to another person. Dick could feel Amy’s fingers on his shoulders and the heat of her body against his back. No one wanted to be alone down here, not after what happened to Mickey.

Their breaths echoed in the tunnel, quick and raspy. Dick swiped beads of blinding sweat from his forehead before they could find his eyes, and salty drops ran down his spine with every step. It was too close in here, they were too tightly packed together. Dick swallowed hard against a knot in his throat.

He tried not to imagine a hole in the ceiling like the slot they’d taken Mickey through. He tried not to think about pale, filthy arms reaching down and snatching away another member of his crew. He tried not to imagine maggot-colored hands hurling rocks down at them as they crept out the end of the tunnel. He tried not to imagine a trap in the floor opening up and sucking half his crew into a a bone-crushing fall. But the images kept coming, one after another, each more horrific than the next. He had to get out of here before he lost his mind.

Nancy called out from up ahead, her voice muffled by the bodies between her and Dick. “Watch your step up here, there’s a drop off to the left.”

Dick mashed his body up against the right side of the tunnel, suddenly terrified of slipping off an unseen ledge to his doom. Sweat soaked through his shirt, and the urge to shove Randall out of the way so he could just fucking
run
was becoming an overpowering need. He couldn’t stay cramped down here much longer.
Hold it together, asshole,
he ordered himself,
shit is going to be a lot scarier on the surface if you don’t get this footage.

Randall’s gasp was the only warning Dick had before the tunnel suddenly opened up. The sense of space was overwhelming, as if the world around him had vanished, leaving behind an endless midnight void. His eyes were drawn to the deeper darkness to his left, and he felt his bladder threatening to pour its contents down his legs.

He was standing on a narrow ledge, little more than a yard wide. To his left, a yawning gulf stretched out beyond the reach of his light. Even Randall’s much brighter camera light didn’t do much to push back the gloom. Dick had the sense of the darkness as a thing, a physical presence that threatened to sweep them all off the ledge and to their doom. “Fuck me,” he whispered.

Amy’s hand clenched tight on Dick’s shoulder and, for once, she’d stopped chomping her gum. “How far down you think that goes?”

Dick leaned forward a couple of inches, hoping to get a better look over the edge. It didn’t really matter how deep it was—Randall’s light illuminated a couple hundred feet before the darkness beat it back. That was more than enough of a fall to kill anyone. “Too fucking far,” he muttered.

The wind carried a faint tapping to Dick’s ear. He strained to hear it more clearly, but it was already gone. He shook his head and looked up to see Troy hustling toward him.

Troy joined them, his breaths wheezing in and out of his lungs like an asthmatic old man. “Where’s she going?”

He pointed past Dick at Nancy, who was moving away from the rest of the crew. There was a pale-silver glow ahead of her. “Where’d she get the light? Fuck. Get after her, Randy.”

They moved along the edge of the pit, held up by Randall’s fear of heights. He edged along like the floor was Teflon slick and he was in danger of flying off into the darkness without warning. Dick could see Nancy and Liz ahead of them, making better time than Randall was ever going to make. “Goddammit, Randall.
Catch up to them
.”

But Randall couldn’t go any faster. Dick could see him trying, but his feet were just as fat as the rest of him, and the cameraman had to watch where he put them. There just wasn’t as much space for Randall as Dick and the others. Dick held his breath and hoped the big man wouldn’t fall and take their camera and all their footage over the edge with him.

Troy’s scream stabbed into Dick’s ear. “What the fuck?”

Amy’s scream joined Troy’s, and Dick turned back as fast as he dared. In the light of his headlamp, he could see Amy, crouched down on the ledge, both hands over the ledge. Troy was nowhere to be seen. “Help me pull him up,” she gasped, face washed out from the strain.

Dick knelt next to her and aimed his light at Troy’s desperate, upturned face. The skinny tech wrangler was dangling from Amy’s hands, tears leaking from his eyes. “Don’t let me go, please, please.”

“Randy,” Dick barked, “need the light.”

He shoved his gun into the back of his jeans and reached past Amy. This close to the edge, he felt the lure of the darkness, the suicidal urge to lean out a little farther and let gravity do its job. The darkness would swallow him and all his troubles; it would be like he’d never existed.
Fuck that
, he raged against his fearful reptile brain. He hooked his fingers in the fabric of Troy’s shirt and leaned back with all his weight. Troy’s feet scrambled against the wall as he tried to help them. They were doing it. They were going to get the skinny little fucker back up to safety. “We got you, Troy.”

Their tech was halfway onto the ledge, just his legs dangling over, when Troy screamed again. It wasn’t a scream of fear, but of raw pain, and it had Dick scrambling to draw his gun. He wasn’t going to be caught flatfooted by one of those fuckers again. “Fuck,” Troy screamed, “something’s biting the shit out of my leg, man.”

He let loose with another ragged wail, and Dick took a quick look over the ledge. He saw a rat’s nest of hair and a pale, filth-streaked face coming out of the chasm’s near wall. The asshole’s mouth was locked to Troy’s calf, and blood was gushing out of the tech. “Fuck you,” Dick snarled, and took aim.

The gun’s roar echoed through the chasm, rolling through the darkness like a thunderclap. Troy shouted again, and Dick held back vomit when he saw the bullet had torn through Troy’s ankle. The freak was still chewing on Troy. Dick took another shot.

This one was on the mark. It caught Troy’s attacker just behind its deformed ear and blew its skull wide open. Greasy white brains sprayed out of the wound, slopping against the wall and falling into the darkness. The attacker sagged against the wall before disappearing, jerked back into the darkness by unseen hands.

Troy scrambled with his good leg, and Amy did her best to help him. Dick shoved the gun back into his waistband, scorching his lower back on the still-hot muzzle. He grabbed Troy by the shoulders and yanked, pulling him up onto the ledge. Dick and Amy slumped back against the wall, sucking in air as the adrenaline in their blood burned away their oxygen. Troy lay on the ledge, weeping and clutching his brutalized leg. Randall stood nearby, camera aimed at the three of them, face invisible in the shadows.

The sisters were gone, Dick couldn’t even see their light glowing in the darkness anymore. While he and Amy had struggled to save Troy, those two bitches had high-tailed it off to who knew where. He wanted to hurt them. He wanted to kill them.
You better hope I don’t catch you two anytime soon.

Dick bowed his head and rested it against his knees.

We are so fucked
, he thought, and did his best not to cry.

10

T
he sound of crinkling aluminum foil told Dick all he needed to know about Amy. She was busy stuffing another wad of gum into her stupid face. He didn’t think he could stand the sound of her chomping. He raised his head from his hands and stared at his co-host. “Seriously, Amy?”

She shrugged and blew a bubble. “Albino freaks kidnapped one of my friends and tried to eat another. I chew gum when I’m trying not to
freak the fuck out, you asshole
.”

Dick didn’t know if Amy was trying to piss him off to get him back on his feet, but it worked. He rolled his neck on his shoulders and winced at the rattling pops from his spine. He felt ancient. Dick eased around Amy to get to Troy, who was still curled into a fetal position with his hands shielding his wounded calf. “Hey, man.”

Troy opened one eye and whimpered through gritted teeth. “Don’t leave me alone, man. Please, promise me you won’t leave me here.”

Dick didn’t know what to say to that. Troy was shit out of luck—his lower leg looked like a pit bull’s chew toy, and there was a puddle of blood around him that did not bode well for his fluid levels. Dick met Troy’s eyes then looked away before he could betray himself. “I’ll help you along. We’ll get Mickey, then we’re getting the hell out of here.”

Troy nodded, relief washing the tension out of his face. “I didn’t slip, you know that, right, man? It grabbed me. Tried to pull me over the edge.”

Dick gave Troy’s shoulder a squeeze. “Let’s get you up.”

They struggled under the camera’s cold, white glare. Troy whimpered and went limp whenever he put any pressure on his leg. Every time Dick thought he had the tech geek up, the little guy would fold up on him. The third time, his collapse was so sudden and complete he almost knocked Dick right off the ledge.

“Okay, that isn’t working.” Dick knelt on the ledge and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I’m going to try and drag you off this ledge, Troy.

Dick noticed Amy watching them, chewing her gum with steady, even chomps. “You gonna be okay?” she asked, without much real enthusiasm.

“Dandy,” Dick shot back. He hooked his hands under Troy’s armpits and started backing along the ledge, being extra careful to keep his left side up against the wall. It was too easy to imagine Troy flopping around and going over the edge or, worse, knocking Dick off balance and into the abyss. He licked the sweat off his lips and did his best to ignore the shooting pains in his backs and thighs. Dragging Troy was awkward and exhausting work.

Randall suddenly yelped like a chihuahua with its back legs caught under a rocking chair. The camera’s light swung around in a wild arc, flashing like a stroke of lightning over the chasm. The light came back around, accompanied by Randall’s sharp bark of surprise. “Amy,” he started then let out another surprised shout.

Amy’s scream echoed Randall’s alarmed hollering. Dick saw her jump back from the ledge then dart forward again, raising her foot and stomping down hard. An inhuman screech rose from the chasm, and a pale, damaged hand spasmed under Amy’s heel. She ground down hard, twisting her heel until blood spurted onto the stone. She hopped back and stomped again then again. The hand disappeared back over the ledge, leaving behind a red smear and a pair of cracked fingernails that had peeled off like cheap decals. She ran toward Dick and Troy, mouth open wide as she screamed, “Go!”

The groping hand reappeared and slapped bloody handprints along the ledge. Dick dragged Troy back from the thing, but it was gaining on them. He tried to go faster, but his feet slipped and caught on one another.

The hand was three yards away and closing.

Dick switched his grip on Troy. He grabbed the young man’s skinny wrist and turned so he could watch where he was walking. He improved his pace, but every step wrenched a pained cry from Troy. Blood spurted from his injured leg, puddled on the uneven stone, and drooled over the ledge.

Two yards away, close enough for Dick to see the long fingernails chipping against the stone with every swipe.

“You’re killing me,” Troy wailed.

Anger flared in Dick’s heart. He thought about just letting go, dumping Troy and letting the hand have him. Then he remembered the camera on him and how fucking awesome this was going to look in prime time. “Hang on, Troy, we’re going to make it.”

One yard away, and Dick realized he wasn’t going to make it. They were only halfway across the ledge, and the hand was too fast. He dropped Troy’s hand.

Troy twisted at the waist and stared up at Dick. “Don’t leave me,” he choked.

Dick wrenched the pistol out of his waistband and thumbed the hammer back. He lowered the barrel, swinging it down toward Troy. He stared down the sight, eyes cold and still. He took a deep breath, held it.

The hand slapped down inches from Troy’s foot.

Dick squeezed the trigger.

Troy screamed. Blood flew into the air, spritzing the wall and the ledge. It was startlingly red in the camera’s dead white light, glistening against the dark stone.

A trio of mangled fingers twitched on the ledge, just beyond Troy’s foot. The technician stared up at Dick, eyes bulging, mouth hanging open. “You could have shot me.”

Dick shoved the gun into the back pocket of his jeans, careful not to burn his back again. He crouched down, wincing at the pain in his back and hooked his hands under Troy’s arms. “Already did that today.”

Troy laughed, a long, crazy sound, and Dick joined in with him. They made it across the ledge without incident; the groping hand vanished back into the darkness to nurse its wounds.

When they reached safer ground, Dick released Troy and sank onto his haunches. His back ached as if he’d just been through a tug-of-war with an NFL team. He groaned and wrapped his arms around his knees. He needed to rest, for a couple of years at least. His heart hammered against his ribs, his breath sawed its way in and out of his lungs.

He smelled bubblegum and opened his eyes. Amy was grinning at him, a stick of the pink stuff extended toward him from between her fingers. “Have some gum,” she chomped on each word, “trust me.”

Dick snorted, but took the gum. It tasted like plastic, but its smell reminded him of autumn carnivals, of cotton candy and pink lemonade. He was surprised to find it worked, that the mechanical act of grinding the gum between his molars helped settle his nerves and relaxed the snarl of his thoughts. He hated to admit it, but Amy was on to something. “Thanks,” he said and went back to chomping on the gum.

They sat in silence, the four of them lined up against the wall, looking out over the chasm, listening to each other breathe. Dick knew they were waiting for him to say something, waiting for him to tell them where to go.

The only problem was he had nothing to say. He didn’t know how far they could drag Troy, didn’t know
where
to drag him. The freak could have taken Mickey anywhere. There was no convenient blood trail or footprint to show them where the bad guys had gone.

Worse, he didn’t know how much longer they could survive the ambushes. He didn’t think there were more than a few of the freaks, but they seemed able to come from anywhere they wanted. They’d already taken Mickey, and nearly killed Troy. Anywhere the lights weren’t, the pale arms could come and snatch someone away, gnashing teeth could come and bite chunks out of the unwary. He let that last thought roll around in the emptiness of his skull until it bumped up against another idea. He leaned over to Randall and whispered his idea into the big man’s ear.

Randall rubbed his chin then nodded.

Dick struggled back to his feet and spat the wad of tasteless gum into the chasm. “Come on, kids. No more lollygagging. Amy, give me a hand with our boy here.”

Between the two of them, they were able to get Troy onto his good foot. He held his injured leg up, bent at the knee, and hopped along with them. It was a hell of a lot better than dragging him, but Dick was still worried about Troy. He was pale and sweating like crazy despite the chill air of the tunnel. His leg wasn’t gushing blood, but he was losing the red stuff at a steady drip. Troy caught Dick’s look of concern and forced a weak smile. “I’m good, man. Let’s find Mickey.”

They started walking, and Dick almost felt bad about using Troy as bait.

BOOK: Ghost Hunters
11.2Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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