Death and Destruction

Matthew and Keller delve deeper into the sewers trying to find a way back to the surface. However, their minds may not be able to withstand the death they find in those dark tunnels

It came from the depths of the sewer. That was all we were able to discover. Whatever human or creature or combination thereof had long ago been forgotten but the malice in the creature had never bowed. It had never ceased or forsook the rage and hatred that had turned it into the monster it now was. However, the hate of this creature was so strong it oozed into the areas it inhabits, changing and warping the landscape to a kingdom that its multi-legged body could easily traverse. Like a spider it was but so much worse. A bulbous sat atop its 6-legged body. Each joint that dragged its foul growth forward ended in an impaling spike that dug deep into the ground it traversed. I and Matthew had both sensed it as we selected our route and it sensed us. It sensed our beating hearts and our lack of corruption. It sensed the pureness of our spirits and its blood rushed through its body in an avalanche of adrenaline and noise. The thought of killing us must have been enough to drag itself out of the twisted and warped metal that made up his kingdom. He was out to destroy Matthew and myself and come for us he did. With a roar that shook its kingdom, it shoved its sickening bulk into the massive pipes that made up its kingdom and unknown to us the hunt for our flesh was on.

        Matthew and I had been walking deeper and deeper into our selected route hoping to reach the surface. Again, we traveled in complete silence to avoid detection with only the small flashlight to guide our path. From time to time, the sound of dripping water could be heard as we kept our ears listening for any threat. The tapping of claws or the snarling of creatures. Anything that would allow us to flee if needed. Not that either of us thought we would make it far but the hope of escape was always comforting no matter how unlikely. Our journey through the darkness continued for longer than I could imagine but finally we both saw a small glow in the distance. A rounding out that signified the end of our journey in the tunnel was near.

        Our pace increased as we approached the light until finally we left the confines of the tunnel and were bathed in the dull light of a lamp that pulsed slightly every few seconds. Near the light was a dull rusted door held shut by a bolt latch, a latch that was the only thing between us and exiting this tunnel and the darkness that it held. As we reached the door, I grabbed the bolt and tried to turn it but it refused too budge. After multiple tries, all I gained for my troubles was orange rust spots on my hands and cloths. I surrendered the door to Matthew’s strong body and he made short work of the latch. First, popping it up and then pulling the latch back. We both had to work to force the door open but finally it opened on shrieking hinges to a narrow dark service hallway. Slowly, Matthew pulled out his flashlight and let the light shine down the hallway illuminating a small part of the hallway.

        It is with shaking hands that I write this next entry to you. You must remember what I am about to describe because the sight that met us in that hallway nothing could prepare us for. We opened that door and stepped into a hallway that death owned. That death had nurtured and claimed as his own. It is with a shaking hand that I continue on. Please do not stop reading and do not let the memories overwhelm you. Fight the despair they will cause and hope for the joy that the future holds. The future you are now living. Remember and see what life was like before the present and possible future you hold in your hands to shape and mold.

        The light the flashlight offered was unfocused at first but as it grew brighter and more focused. The sight that greeted us made me wish that we had never come this way that we had never survived our first encounter with the creatures. That I had died a pain filled and torture filled death rather than see what was now lying before us in the hallway. As the focus increased and the beam of light sliced through the darkness it came to rest upon a human skull. A human skull with its mouth still open in agony of the death it endured. The skin had been peeled back from the skull exposing the white bone chip marked and cracked from claws that had torn at the owner. As the light traveled further down the body we saw that the arms had been removed at the shoulder and its skinless back bled freely even now as if the kill had occurred recently.

        Next to me I heard Matthew retching at the sight of the sickening corpse and the smell of blood and death that followed. All I could do was stare numbly at the scene before us my mind rebelling against the sight my eyes painted before me.

        “wha… what happened to them,” Matthew whispered next to me. As he let his light swim back and forth upon the hallway more scenes of death and destruction met us. A mangled corpse here and a decapitated head there. Bodies stripped of skin and much of the meat underneath. Others still holding their loved ones as they were consumed by the creatures come to haunt our world. Then the worst hit us. Small children and infants still clinging to their mothers and fathers. Those that had a rich life ahead of them cut short in this charnel room. Their mouths open in a muted and eternal scream standing mockingly against what was left of their mutilated corpses. The innocence lost here I thought silently. I flinched as something wet fell against my hand. Thinking it was blood, my body rebelled. The blood of these men, women, and children cannot be on me. I began to fling my hand back and forth repeatedly. However, another drop hit my left hand and suddenly I realized they were tears. I was weeping at the sight before me. At the injustice of the situation. The injustice of the lives lost particularly of the young ones. The ones who had not had a chance to live their lives but had them ended at the end of spikes claws and fanged maws.

        I slowly turned to Matthew trying to wipe my tears, “They must have tried to hide down here. Hoping that the creatures could not find them.” My voice began to break, “I can’t imagine the pain they felt. The sadness they felt as they watched their families butchered before their eyes. As they saw themselves feasted upon while they were still alive. I… I…” I could not continue as I wept. Great gut-wrenching sobs as my brain could no longer process the illogical killing and death it now registered. As my human soul cried out to some unknown thing to undo the death that had be wrought here. To make sense of this madness for me. To give me anything to hope for. But if I have learned anything it is that hope speaks in many different voice and not all of them are audible. Sometimes hope uses our capacity to feel hope and love to overcome our darkest moments. Even as we looked at this charnel house of depravity and violence, hope was about to show its face to us.     

        As I wept, I suddenly felt Matthews hand on my shoulder. His hand vice like and constricting as he took in the scene before him. I could only imagine the conflict within my friend at the sight of the slaughter. We stood there for 5 minutes staring paralyzed at the bodies. Tears continued to cascade down my face and Matthew continued to hold my shoulder. We may have continued locked together like that till our deaths at the hands of the murderous creatures that slaughtered those whose bones lay before us. But Matthew finally broke our paralysis of sorrow. The doubt that wanted to drown us and the hopelessness to strangle us. He broke the silence and stillness with a ripping sound. The sound of fabric suddenly being ripped one piece from another and my heart started again. I quickly turned to Matthew in time to see him toss a dark bundled object at me that I surprised myself by catching. Upon further examination, I realized it was part of Matthew’s shirt.

        Suddenly, I found my voice, “what is this for?” Matthew did not deign to answer till he had ripped another sections of his shirt off for himself. Then his voice rumbled to me, “we gotta get through those bodies. Put this over your mouth and nose. Do not look at them and this will help with the smell. We need to leave here or we are dead.”

        Dutifully, I pressed the piece of shirt to my nostrils. Instantly, my senses were overwhelmed with the smell of sweat and filth perforating Matthew’s shirt. I imagine mine is not that pleasant either. I should be happy I am still alive to smell this. Bringing myself back to the present, I turned to Matthew and gave him a small nod signaling that I was prepared to enter the tunnel.  

        Step by step we approached the door walking in tandem to one another. Once inside we were taking steps one in front of the other almost in a robotic fashion as we followed a slim line through the butchered bodies. Trying to not tread on the bones and limbs of the dead. Offering them what respect we could through our careful tread, respect that was not honored in their tormented and bloody deaths. I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead following Matthew’s shadow that blocked much of the carnage as long as I did not look down. As we entered deeper and deeper into the hallway, the soft pad of our feet was soon replaced by sloshing sounds. My brain registered that we were walking through pools of blood but I refused to allow myself to accept this fact. I kept my eyes fixed ahead at a small rip in Matthew’s shirt willing my thoughts to cease. Instead, I focused my thoughts on the cripplingly foul smell emitting through the shred of Matthew’s shirt I still had pressed to my nose. The smell kept me grounded and showed me that my senses were still alert. That my humanity would still rebel against the foul stenches surrounding me brought me a small comfort in this place of death.

        We walked in silence without touching the dead under the guidance of Matthew. Matthew who was choosing to be strong enough to look upon the death before us and walk through it. Staring at the cruel representation of the pain and horror that had been carved from those that lay before us and still being a strong rock for me to hold onto as a foundation and guide on this journey. The strength he carried was and had always been a beacon for me in troubled times. His gladness and the joy he brought into my life always helped put a smile on my face. Where does he get his strength from? I was in such deep contemplation to help me cope with the death around me that I did not even realize Matthew had stopped walking until I ran right into his broad back.

        As we collided fear and adrenaline began to course through my system in equal measures. My eyes darted around franticly causing every shadow to dance and slither around me. Every dead body stared back at me with glowing eyes and hungry gaping mouths. Then I heard a sound that stopped my heart cold. It sounding like the soft mewling of a hurt cat. The sound slithered through the air to reach our ears and my mind was soon overwhelmed with images flashing through my mind. Images of the creatures that hunted us, my sister grossly mutated beyond recognition, and other terrors of babies or small children mutilated by hate and seeking to devour Matthew and I without regret.

        The sliver of light that Matthew’s flashlight generated flitted across the room trying to identify the source of the sound and finally coming to rest upon a small compartment built into the wall. The compartment jutted out about 4 inches or so from the wall and was surrounded by metal on all sides. It was tall enough for a small person to crouch within or most house animals to fit inside comfortably. To many possibilities I thought to myself but one thing was for certain, whatever was making the noise must be hiding or preparing for an ambush within the compartment. Slowly, Matthew began to move towards the locker and I reluctantly followed close behind.

        As we continued towards the locker, Matthew slowly bent down and grabbed a metal pipe on the ground. It was about 2 inches wide and already possessed multiple dents from either work use or something much fouler that I tried to force from my mind. The breaking of bodies and bones. The bringing of death but it had found a new master and the ability to bring pain is what we were counting on. The intensity and persistence of the mewling sounds increased as we came closer to the locker. Once we were outside, I could almost feel the sound breaking through my mind and bouncing inside my head. By the dim light, we located the blood slicked handle and Matthew slowly and quietly reached out his hand. His fingers wrapped around the handle and with a quirk jerk and the quiet sound of lubricated hinges opening Matthew flung open the door and raised the crowbar high. Before he even had time to swing, the small figure in the locker launched itself at me in a flash of white pale skin.

        A heavy force struck me full in the chest but I managed to keep my footing by pure luck on the blood slicked floor. Strong hands grasped my shirt color and began to pull me down towards what I could only assume was gaping teeth waiting to devour me. I screamed long and loud and time seemed to slow as copious amounts of adrenaline entered my system. I grabbed the figure and slammed him down hard onto the oozing red floor. The figure instantly let go of my shirt and instead took a large amount of my hair into his hands and began to twist and jerk my head back and forth. Suddenly, I realized that whoever or whatever this figure was, wanting to bash my skull into the ground. As I lost more and more of my footing to the violent upper-body strength of the shadow, I suddenly felt the pressure lesson and then the hands released me. Through the blood rushing through my ears, I could hear Matthew yelling and by the dim light that his flashlight shimmered back and forth I could finally make out the shadow I had been struggling with.

        Matthew had pinned a thin youth to the wall by gripping the youth’s shoulders in his strong hands preventing him from moving. The youth was ghostly white standing out against his short but thick black hair. Cuts covered his arms probably from the creatures he had somehow managed to escape. Blood stained his shirt and pants from our fight on the bloody floors. “Who are you?” I asked him.

        His eyes moved towards mine but all I received in answer was a high pitched noise. Almost like a short burst from a whistle. Loud and clear it echoed up and down the passage. Matthew and I both exchanged worried looks, “maybe he is in shock,” I offered. “Maybe… I can’t imagine what that was like being stuck in that box while your family was being butchered outside.” He said shaking his head “It may have broke him.”

        “You may be right man but either way we have to take him with us.” I stared at him as he began to bob back and forth and started tapping two fingers together next to his ear listening to the dull thump thump sound they made. “It is not going to be easy though. Getting out of here and surviving with him unless he snaps out of whatever is going on.”

        Matthew gave him one last good long look and slowly turned back to me “Come on we gotta go. Maybe if we get out of this place he will start to calm down.” I walked over and lightly touched the boy on the arm. He instantly spun around to face me and grabbed my shirt collar and dropped to the floor holding me firmly in his surprisingly strong hands. In order to break my fall, I reached down and felt the wet press of blood upon my hands. My mind screamed as the deep red liquid covered my hands and fingers. To compound my distress, the boy had reached up and now had a firm grip on my head. He was roughly pulling on my hair and pressing my head into his chest creating an immense pressure on my chest as I struggled to breathe.

       

        Again Matthew came to my rescue, he grabbed the boys’ hands and roughly pulled them away from my hair. He then firmly grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me up while holding the hands of the kid securely in his free hand. Once I had regained my feet, Matthew firmly grabbed the kid and picked him up placing him on his shoulder. “We are leaving now,” he rumbled. The kid struggled and swung at him but Matthew dealt with each blow as they came never stopping as he headed towards the door. The portal out of this charnel pit. As our journey continued, I watched the boy closely. After a few seconds of combating with Matthew, he seemed to have finally resigned himself to the ride he was experiencing on Matthew’s shoulder. Instead of constantly trying to grab Matthew’s shirt or his short thick hair, he now had both hands in front of him and almost seemed to be tensing and then tensing his hands and arms again and again.

        He is an odd one, I thought but I did not judge his actions harshly as I do not know what I would become if I was locked in a locker while my family and possibly friends were butchered. To hear their scream and cries as well as the passionate cries of those creatures was more than enough to drive someone deep inside themselves just to survive. I wonder what his life was like before all this. Did he have a loving family? Did he hear their screams as they were butchered or were these dead in the tunnel with me butchered by his family in a fit of mad rage and inhuman violence? I sighed quietly once again finding myself brooding on the pain and suffering around me. I have got to be more careful or I am going to get dragged down by all of this. Gotta keep going and stay strong for my family. I pushed the dark thoughts away from me and steadfastly marched after Matthew, through the dead, into the light of a narrow spiral staircase that led up to what would hopefully be the surface.

        As we approached the stairs, Matthew stopped a few feet from the steps. He gently set the boy down who immediately ran to the thick metal handrail attached to the stairs and quickly bopped it with his fingers. A resounding thrum filled the passageway echoing upward from the force of the blow and insanely the boy kept bopping it. Faster and harder causing the echo of each blow to overlap into a thunderstorm of noise reverberating all around us.

        Instantly, I ran up to the boy terrified that those creatures would hear us and pushed him hard as I snarled, “Knock it off!” The boy fell in a heap at the bottom of the stairs but acted as if nothing had happened. He just laid by the stairs and slowly pressed his cheek and ear to the smooth cool concrete floor we were standing on before starting to thump his fingers against the new surface producing soft sounds that were similar to large droplets of water hitting a solid unforgiving surface.

        I turned to Matthew who was shutting the large metal door that led into the passageway that we came through “what are we going to do with him man? He is going to get us killed and I do not want to see him killed but he seems hell bent on making enough noise to draw them from these tunnels right to us.” Matthew did not respond immediately as he was finishing closing the door that protested loudly on squeaking hinges. The sound grated against my ears and I desperately hoped nothing else was within earshot to hear it but once the door slammed closed relief flooded through me. Gone were the dark tunnels and the dead. Gone as if they had never even existed. As if we had not waded through their bloodied mangled bodies to make it this far. To have the chance that was denied to them. The chance to have a life. To continue living in defiance of the death that was all around us.

        “We should leave him,” Matthew’s voice boomed through my contemplation, “but I won’t. No matter how broken he is from seeing his family killed, I will not leave him because he is alive. He is a life and that has always been precious to me but the events of today. The death and killing. It makes me want to fight all the harder to keep each life alive as the precious light in the world that it is. Let me keep him in line and we can get through this alive even with all the crazy stuff he seems to be doing.” He walked over the boy and lightly tapped him on the shoulder. Instantly, the boy lashed out at Matthew either from the unexpected touch or another reason that was unknown to both of us. Matthew instantly removed the boy’s hands from his shirt and calmly said, “it’s okay. You are safe now with us. We will protect you but you need to work with us or we are all dead.” The boy just stared blankly at Matthew as he continued to talk and ask the boy questions such as his name, if he was hurt, and other essential questions that could immediately impact our group. All he received was the same blank stare that had greeted him when he first began speaking to him. I heard Matthew sigh and it seemed that he said almost out of frustration or desperation “Do you understand anything I am saying.” The boy just stared blankly at him.

        However, slowly I saw the boy’s left hand clench into a fist. I prepared to warm Matthew in case if the boy was going to assault him but to my surprise the boys fist came up and then slowly moved up and down at the wrist. I stared wondering what that was supposed to mean but I slowly saw a smile emerge on Matthew’s face. “Thank you Jesus,” I heard Matthew mutter as he turned to me. “He knows or at least seems to know sign language.” Matthew then went through each of his questions again and received either a shaking of the boy’s fist or the boy moved his fingers like pincers almost and touched his tips together. I soon learned the shaking of the fist meant yes and the fingers touching meant no. Soon we learned that all the boy knew how to do was yes and no in sign language. It appeared he was unable to communicate beyond that as he answered all questions with a yes or no regardless of the appropriateness of those answers.

        When the informal interrogation of the boy ended, Matthew turned to me “I do not think he can actually talk man.” The absurdity of that statement took me by surprise and I found myself sarcastically replying, “You think?”  As soon as those words left my mouth I wanted to take them back but to my relief Matthew continued on as if he had never heard my remark. “I mean like he can’t talk at all. Not that he is suppressing his ability to speak because of the horror of what happened but because he was never able to speak before. But I do not know why he is acting the way he does and why he seems to know so little sign language.” He then dropped his voice down to a whisper that I struggled to make out, “I am worried though that he has lost his mind. I mean to go through what he did had to be tough and the way he keeps grabbing us. I do not know man but I feel like he is ready to snap at any moment if he has not already. We gotta be careful and be there for him as well. Try to prevent any more exposure to all the death and terror if we can. Are you willing to work together with me to protect him because, I have to be honest, I do not think I will be able to keep him safe on my own?”

        I looked directly at Matthew and saw the pleading in his eyes. I know he believed that the boy would die if I was not willing to help. My mind ran through a few different scenarios that I could live with and saying no to Matthew after all he had done for me. Especially when someone’s life hung in the balance. “Sure man. You can count on me.” The relief that flooded his eyes was reward enough to shackling myself to this young man but I was not yet finished. “If we are going to protect him, he needs a name other than kid or boy.”

       A bark of laughter left Matthew at this statement. A sound that almost seemed foreign on my ears after the pain and screams of pain over the past day. “I suppose your right man. It would be awkward to scream save boy or kid but what name?”

        Both Matthew and I thought about it then it hit me. The perfect way to give the boy a name “How about you ask him? Just say some random names and wait for him to sign his acceptance or rejection of the name.” The idea sounded even better coming out of my mouth. “Sometimes Matthew I can hardly believe how smart I am.”

        I got a grin from Matthew for that one as he went back to the boy who had taken a seat on the ground and intermediately clapped his hands to a rhythm only he could follow. As Matthew began going through a list of names for the boy I started walking down the far end of the tunnel we were in. The tunnel was illuminated by numerous service lights and ended with a wall of steel bars separating our tunnel from the massive maze of pipes that ran beyond. Shadows flickered on the outside of each of the tunnel entrances from the dying lights as close as 20 feet from the bars. I wonder what dark secrets these tunnels hold, I thought silently. What evidence of dark deeds had been dumped down here without anyone’s knowledge. I do not think we will ever really know or care to know ever again. With all the evil that had happened lately who would even care to find out if humanity survived this. I sighed again feeling the over worn emotion of depression and fear clothing me.

        Little did I know that the clothes of depression and fear that were draped over me at that moment led another to me. Lit me up to him as a beacon of light would show my presence in the dark. Its’ wicked heart thudded faster in its chest as it become excited by the thought of tearing me and those with me apart. Its immense bulk crawled faster and faster up the pipes surrounding it. Its many pincered legs breaking metal and concrete as if it were paper in order to find purchase to continue its assent towards me and my pain. The pain it wanted to taste as it tore at me. The pain it wanted to take for itself to sustain its existence. A twisted smile overtook the being’s face as more and more pleasure racked its body as it smelled what this hunt promised. The ever sustaining meal of pain and anguish before an agonizing and hopeless death. It was coming and soon anguish would follow in its wake.

Author's Note

this is still a work in progress but the chapters have obtained enough traction for me to post yet another chapter in the "Hate Curse."