Chapter 12: Rage
Pyramid Head did not impale me on its spear. Instead, there were moans of the monsters emanating from every direction. Wanting to conserve ammunition, I took out the hammer. As I said before, it was green handled, but it was not a work hammer. Oh no.
This was a war hammer.
The green handle was long, the tail a vicious spike, and the head covered in tiny spikes. It was an emergency hammer, as the official term goes, but it was a war hammer now. And those monsters were going to feel its wrath.
I opened the door that I had not come through, the one to my left. Inside there was a lizard, which looked up at me and growled. A grin crept upon my lips; I raised the hammer high, and brought it down, tail-first. It bore into the lizard's skull, and the force caved its skull in while the spike skewered its brain. When I ripped the hammer out, the thing was dead. There was one disadvantage to this weapon, compared to the pipe or the plank.
It was pretty heavy.
Heavy duty, my mind told me.
Your puns suck.
I stepped over the corpse of the butchered lizard, and continued down a small hallway. It was long, though, and about halfway, I heard the closing of a door. I turned to see one Red Pyramid. My new confidence with the weapon was shattered. All I heard was my heart beating and the Pyramid's footsteps as he speed-walked after me. Not an idiot, I turned and bolted down the hallway, but turning I saw the Pyramid was gaining on me. Adrenaline and mania replaced energy and reason. My legs were sailing as fast as I'd ever ran before, but it wasn't fast enough.
I spun back just as the spear was launched at me. I just barely managed to dodge it, and, before I knew what I was doing, I lowered the hammer and swung it upward, catching his helmet. He dropped the spear and brought his hands up to his helmet, which my hammer was ripping off. He was holding it on, but my weapon's force was too much for his strength, and he fell back as the helmet swung up. It stayed on, but Pyramid Head was on his back, and flailing, trying to get up.
I almost grinned, but I was still in panic. Running like a stallion, I came to another door, that led to a stairway, which ran straight down. I slammed the door behind me and turned my flashlight on, for the place was pitch black. I went two at a time, and came to a grotesquely eroded floor, metal, and smelling of burning iron. I walked down a little before it turned left, and I broke into a small jog.
Until I heard the scream.
It was a man's, strong, and desperate, as if he was being lowered into lava, or on a conveyor belt into a whirring blade. The scream of a man desperately trying to break free of some bond, but failing, and yet keeping his dignity. It's hard to explain, but I heard it.
I broke into a run, and then a sprint, and then I was stopped. A sewer monster, one of those grey things, was holding a plank. It looked at me and smiled a wicked smile, before wailing and swinging the weapon. I was too astounded to dodge the blow. It was downward, and it hit me in my shoulder. It smarted, much like the teacher's metrestick, but the plank was thicker.
I lifted the hammer, and brought it down treacherously hard on the thing's skull. Its back bent forward, and the head ripped off as the body fell on its stomach. Stepping on it, I continued down the hall. This hallway was long! The scream came again, but was drowned out into a muffled cry. I came to a door, a door with a placard in it.
Reluctantly I pulled it out and observed it. Upon it was written Rage, and the picture was of a man holding a club, his hair unkempt, his back bent, and a wild look on his face. It was unusually detailed for a placard.
Not sure if I wanted to enter this room, I opened the door before I could decide against it. But I don't think I could have been prepared for Ben's death. He was cemented into the floor, his shape clearly visible, his mouth open to scream and his eyes closed. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, and 19121 was carved in the cement.
19121 . . . 19/21 . . . one more shot, maybe.
I fell to my knees and looked at the man as the world faded. Noone deserved to die like this. It was clear he suffocated, as there was no other evidence of his death. I spied the axe nearby, but I couldn't reach it in time. The world went black.
– –
I was not eager, but I was ready to go through the hole again. Watching people die wasn't pleasurable; it was just, I needed to keep myself occupied. I sound like a terrible person, I know, but it's the truth.
I walked to my cofee table in the living room and began to eat, when the radio turned on. I nearly choked on my potato chip when it suddenly blasted out noise.
'Earlier today, the mutilated corpse of Monica Judillin, a teacher at Midwich Elementary school, was found in a strange complex of what appeared to be torture chambers under the school. Her body, limbs and organs and everything, was found dismembered and floating in a "Chamber" filled with water. The numbers 17121 were carved into her forehead. Midwich Elementary is currently under investigation.
'And on a similiar note, at Ashfield Clocktower, the body of a police officer named Blake Thurle was found beaten, shot, and dropped off the clock face, which is a fall of about seventy feet. There were signs of a severe struggle, as well as a strange type of blood present on his shirt. The numbers–' The reporter's voice faltered. '–18121 were carved on his body. More details to follow; back to you, Chuck–' The radio cut out.
I stood and tried to turn the radio on again, but nothing. I then noticed a memo on the radio. It was written by my good friend Thomas. Its contents, however, were not too warm or inviting. I began to read it.
'I found the Cult's bible, and there was a small note inside. I started to compile a bunch of notes, basically a list of all the victims that Ralph intends to kill. My blood runs cold, and fear has enveloped my body. I'm so terrified, I can't think. My only duty is to write. It's all I can do. Please, read this well:
Ken Starke - Heart
Mike Starke- Heart
Kevin Delm - Heart
Laura Fathim - Heart
Frederick Ditemik - Heart
Nathan Geldrid - Brain
Danial Fathim - Brain
Miguel Irvirias - Brain
Sarah Less - Brain
Xander Novak - Brain
Clark Milligan - Anguish
Levi Weathers - Heresy
Vincent Lowe - Darkness
Richard Dasp - Treachery
Thomas Iridan - Despair
Shaun Miller - Solitude
Monica Judillin - Arrogance
Blake Thurle - Order
Ben —– - Rage
Emily Callel - Mother Reborn
David Willand - (Reciever of) Wisdom.' The note was torn off there.
My heart failed me. I had to read it again, and then I counted down the list. Emily Callel, among my best friends, was the twentieth. And I was the last one, the twenty-first, the Receiver of Wisdom. And the note ended there. Why had he left me this . . . saddening note? No, saddening isn't right – this put me in downright despair. There was a hastily scribbled note on the back:
The Hearts represent the essence of being; the Brains represent the human search for knowledge. The third sign, Clark through myself, represent the favoured emotions of the Cursed Mother. Shaun through Ben represents the dominant four states of the human mind, through the Mother's perspective. The Mother Reborn is just that: the body which the Mother will be born into the physical world with. And Wisdom is hard to explain. The Mother lays underneath THIS house. In the Heart of Ralph's world, she is gaining strength. Wisdom is the resident of the house, before it is supercharged with the Mother's life force, and acts as a birthing point. Once Wisdom dies, the Mother can be born. There was more, but it was with the ripped off part.
Part of me wanted to fall down, just wait for death to overcome me. I couldn't win. If I stayed here, I'd die. It was then that I felt truly trapped, trapped and with no hope for escape.
I wanted to scream, but I didn't, because if I screamed, I'd laugh at my hopelessness, and if I laughed, I'd cry. And I couldn't afford to cry. Because I'd cry in despair, and would never stop. So, all I could do was stand.
You have to get those chains off. If you fancy your life, you WILL get those chains off. Shoot them, crush them, GNAW them, I don't care, just get out of here!
I leapt forward and reared the hammer back, letting loose into the chains. The hammer hit, but was repelled, and in a burst of light and heat I was thrown onto my back. I leapt up and pummeled the door, frantically trying to get out. I screamed, screamed until I had no air in my lungs, but I kept trying, and kept pounding the door. Exhausted, and with no possible escape, I fell to my knees.
How could someone chain them up? How could they do that while I slept? They're in the house, someone chained them up from inside the house; Ralph is in here. Ralph is in here . . . Ralph is IN HERE.
Pistol.
My hand shot to the firearm, and I stood up, back to the door, scanning the place. It was then that I noticed that the sun was setting. Soon the house would be dark.
I thought of Emily. She was in way deeper than I was, unarmed, and who-knows-where, with monsters craving to consume her. For any ounce of love I bore her, I had to get my shit together. If I was terrified, she had to be going insane. Ralph wasn't in the house; Ralph was in the hole, chasing her down. Grimacing, I ran to the hole and climbed through. It seemed darker, more ominous, and oppressive.
I was up to the rim with fear, but forced it down, repressed it. If I failed this time, the world was screwed.
