The mismatched procession made its way across the field that night, some of the figures carrying lanterns. The females were draped in dark flowing dresses. Otis was dressed in combat boots, stained white t-shirt and a red checkered hunting vest One of them, Stacy in fact, was being led by Tiny, the deformed giant. Her wrists were tied together and attached to a rope that the lanky Tiny held. She was unusually compliant, which Otis took for a bad sign and so had her bound. Mother Firefly had been floating on air after hearing that Stacy might be having a baby and too happy to be angry with her. A bulky figure stumbled and was kicked and taunted by Baby, her high voice going more shrilly. "Come on, young bull!," went Mother Firefly, laughing along too. "I bet you all make such strong, purty children."
After half an hour or so they reached what looked like an abandoned well. "Ok, kids," intoned Otis, setting down his lantern. "Separating family members is a solemn occasion. Which is why I told RJ not to bring no hooch," he chuckled. He faced Tom, saying, "Sorry son, but Baby is done with you. Say hi to Dr. Satan while yer down there." The young man's eyes went wide, and he frantically started struggling, but RJ had a inexorable grip on him.
"Let's git on with it," complained Grampa Hugo. "I'm missin the Munsters on tv."
Without further ado the hatch was thrown open and Tom was bundled into a wooden box and lowered into the black abyss. "NOO!," hollered Stacy, straining toward the opening, but Tiny kept a reign on her. "Damn you!," she cursed them. Then her mouth dropped when she heard her brother's frantic screams. "Tom!," she cried, and jerked free of Tiny. An astonished Otis watched as she, without hesitating, dove down the well head- first. Air whizzed past her head and with her still-bound hands took hold of the rope that had lowered her brother. Wincing at the massive rope burn she slowed to a stop, still about 10 feet above the ground. She let go, splashing into shallow water. A few torches gave off some sparse light but she could make little out.
"Tom!," she called, heart thudding in her chest. "Where are you? Please! Tom!" She heard movement all around her, but could make out a faint "Stacy!," coming from in front of her at some distance. She began to make her way toward Tom's voice when hands were all over her, tearing, grabbing. "Uuugh!," she spat, pushing at them. They were about 15 humanoid, shambling shapes with dribbling mouths and empty eyes from what she could see by the faltering light.
"Stacy!," roared Otis from up above. "STACY!!"
"Fuck you!," she hurled back. "Fuck all of you!" She broke free of the zombies and took off down a cold dank passage, calling for her brother. Her heavy dress clung to her where it was wet, making it hard to run but run she did, slippered feet slapping on the hard ground. Turning a corner she ran smack into the large body of her sibling, a tiny scream hitching in her throat.
"Stace, is that you?"
"Yeah, oh God, Tom! What happened?," she said while hugging him.
"These things grabbed me and pushed and pulled me along. One took my flannel shirt and another untied my ropes. I didn't appreciate being groped in a cave that I've been thrown down by the Adams family from hell. Let's find a way outta here." Looking back down the tunnel at the strange life she'd made for herself she nodded and they both made their way forward.
"There's somebody!," whispered Stacy. Sure enough, someone was coming toward them, dragging one leg behind them. "Hello?," she hailed. The man muttered and seemed to be trying to speak, but couldn't. After a few fruitless moments he continued on, heedless of the siblings' entreaties.
Deeper and deeper the pair went, at times feeling their way down the halls, growing more despondant by the minute. Voices and rumbling machinery could be heard at times, but mostly faint and/or far away. The odors of earth, rot, and rust filled their nostrils as they moved along, their breath seeming to echo off the walls.
Then they came to a set of double doors, which they threw open in hopes of an exit. Harsh light and sterilized surroundings greeted them, making them squint. The large chamber looked somewhat like a lab, if you discounted the bloodstains covering parts of the wall. In the corner sat, like some gross malformed spider, the man--Dr. Satan. A breathing mask covered the lower half of his face, his leathery scalp bare and splotchy in the bright light. Mechanical appendages sprouted from parts of his body, tipped with nasty-looking utensils that moved in seeming agitation as he spied them. This person who was supposed to have died by mob justice, was there before them a hideous amalgamation of tissue and metal. And laughing. Rusty, gravelly laughter could be heard from behind the mask, overjoyed at the prizes which walked right onto his doorstep.
"Welcome," he hissed, and Stacy winced at the sound. "This will be your last stop."
Quickly glancing around the girl spotted a side door, and motioned to Tom. "Come on, let's try that door." They ran toward the door, trying to avoid the evil doctor. Mechanical arms whipped out at them, some still dripping blood and fluids. They both ducked and Stacy stumbled, grabbing at Tom's ruined khakis. He gripped an arm without even slowing down and dragged her after him, Stacy gibbering with fright. She could hear the whir of machinery and creak of old bones behind her, signalling Dr. Satan wasn't about to let them go.
Thankfully the door opened and the pair leapt through and kept running, unsure of where to go but uncaring at that point. Dr. Satan's howls of frustration could be heard behind them, then he seemed to be giving orders to someone. That put fire behind them and they pushed on.
They ran until their lungs burned and sides were heaving, and Stacy felt a bit nauseous. Stopping to rest she squatted and gasped, her heart pounding like a jackhammer. It was almost pitch black but she heard her brother breathing deeply beside her. After a few minutes their breathing slowed, allowing the fear to rise again. "Tom," she ventured, resting her head on his big shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to get involved in this mess."
"You think I'd give up on my little sister?," he told her, attempting to be light-hearted.
"Besides, what else am I gonna do? Keep workin at the garage? Pssshhh," he scoffed. He had been somewhat of a disappointment of the family, his younger sister Stacy attending college and behaving while he...didn't. Laying out all night, failing school and working when it suited him consisted of most his activities, but when his sister disappeared his lethargy evaporated. They then agreed it was time to get moving again. Then they heard it: footsteps behind them. Covering her mouth she dashed on behind her brother, wondering if they'd ever get out of this place.
Suddenly a hulking figure slammed into Tom, knocking him against the wall. Her vision had attuned to the near-dark, and she could see the masked creature carrying a huge mallet. Some kind of armor covered most of its body, round goggles on its face. It mouthed strangled noises, wheezing heavily as it swung the mallet down on Tom. "Noo!," Stacy screamed, pulling frantically on the thing's arm. The mallet head came crashing against the wall, inches from Tom's skull and chipping rock from the wall. It turned and planted a half-metal fist in her chest, sending her backwards gasping for air. Tom tried punching its face and it was like hitting a steel beam. The monster raised the weapon again and the lad took hold of it, preventing its use.
More creatures could be heard coming toward them, wheezing and grunting. Stacy had wobbily gotten to her feet, coughing and wondering if her collarbone was broken, then went to her brother's aid. "Stacy, no! You gotta get out. Go!," he shouted to her.
"What?! I can't leave you, Tommy," tears were pouring down her face. Dr. Satan's other minions were almost upon them.
"You have two lives to worry about," he gasped while he grappled with the creature. "Let my sacrifice mean something. I love you, Stace. Now GO!!"
"I love you, Tom." Tears blinding her vision, she tore down the right- handed tunnel, voicing her anguish as she did so. "Yaahhhh!," she yelped a few minutes later, splashing into a body of water. The unexpected dunking galvanized her again when she'd been about to give up. Floundering about a bit, she began making her way forward, praying that there wasn't a wide span of water. She lost her slippers while swimming, gulping quite a bit of what she hoped was semi-clean water in the process. As her limbs began burning with fatigue her feet touched ground, then she gratefully stumbled onto dry land. She looked up and saw a thin shaft of light shining down on her face.
"Oh please," she prayed aloud. Let it be a way out. Poking about she found debris, timber, rocks, car hoods and proceeded to stack them. Fear and anger fueled her now, pitying anyone or anything that would stop her. Fifteen minutes of work she climbed up the unstable platform grasping an old shovel handle she'd picked up. When she reached the ceiling she jabbed, forcing through the thin cover of this part of the caverns. Dirt, wood and stones fell in on her but she kept on, making an opening big enough to climb through. Heaving her large frame upwards she flopped herself into the outside world in the sunshine, where she vomited and rolled over, exhausted.
Rick bent down to kiss her, smiling his little-boy grin. "My lovebunny," he soothed. "Time to get up. You have to go on."
The hot summer sun beating down on her face woke Stacy, feeling sick and disoriented. She had eaten very little the day before, but threw up some food and bile anyways. Sobbing and gagging she sat up, her dirty, still- damp dress hanging on her. Must get to a phone, a hospital, somewhere.
Fingers were in her hair, she squealed in surprise and Otis was beside her in the dust, wearing a wifebeater t-shirt and ripped jeans. Looking into his face she expected his insane rage, and anger was there but there was something else: pain. She pushed at him but his lean arms went around her, preventing her from getting away. Overwrought, she spent her grief over her brother in the arms of the man who'd been the source of his downfall and had murdered her fiance. He said nothing, and he took nothing this time but gave. Perhaps because he knew she was leaving.
"You're mine," he said. "You belong with me."
"I belong to no one, thanks to you," was the reply. She was about to say she loved him and would stay when he was hit and propelled forward, head landing in her lap. Standing over them was someone she finally recognized after a moment--Jim, the man she'd help saved, all the worse for wear. His clothes were in tatters and face swollen beyond belief. He held his hand out to her, after a moment's hesitation she took it and stood.
"AAAaarrrgh!," the wraith snarled, addled. Jim and Stacy started running, the man barely able to limp along. He dropped the stone he'd brained Otis with and grasped that side of Stacy's dress. Otis got to his feet, growling, "Bitch, go ahead an' run! Go back to bein a rabbit!" His not- very-masculine voice rolled across the widening distance between them. "RUN, RABBIT, RUN!" Otis was at a loss, for once. Was this what heartbreak felt like? Well, it was the pits and those silly pansy cheerleaders and Malibu Barbies could keep it! Love, yeah fuckin right. He craved a drink.
Half a day they'd been stumbling down the road, wishing for someone to pick them up or another house to stop at. Drained, they sat under a tree beside the road. Jim's leg was broken, he was missing half an ear and one eye; Stacy's hands were raw and her whole chest a blackening bruise. The stump of her wounded finger had healed long ago, but looked worse than it really was. Eventually they were picked up by a shocked farmer and taken to the local clinic, where they were then transported to a good hospital. Police came and talked to them, then men in white coats tsking and shaking their heads. Jim Baker was whisked to a veteran's hospital when it was learned he'd served in Vietnam. Both were written off as crazy--nobody believed them. Oh, the police did a perfunctory investigation but came up with nothing, of course. Some of the officers even came back smiling with pink lipstick on their faces. Stacy learned to just drop it when she tried to convince people of her ordeal after having a brief stay in a mental hospital.
Several months later she was back in a hospital setting, crying out against all the gods and men in the world as she struggled to give birth. Ten hours into the labor Stacy slumped and the attending physician held up a perfect baby boy. Every purple vein could be seen under his translucent skin and he let loose an enraged howl. Stacy's parents, who'd come just in time, looked at each other, baffled.
When she came to a nurse placed the bundle of joy in her arms and she smiled. His skin was much better after getting warm, but his round baby head was topped with a fluff of white hair. Little Orion Thomas Robins had a proud mother and thoroughly disturbed but loving grandparents.
Fall, 1981--
Four-year-old Tommy colored in his coloring book while Stacy worked on her next article on her old typewriter. After having a bestselling book based on her misadventures she bought a nice little house near the city and put a swingset out front for her son. She had finished college, worked as a waitress, become an author all while juggling being a mother. A not quite mentally stable one, at that. "Look, Mom," Tommy said, showing her his picture. He'd drawn dinosaurs in the coloring book on a picture of bunnies frolicking in a field. One of the dinosaurs was biting down on one of the happy bunnies and he'd used quite a bit of the red crayon.
Ah that's my boy, she thought, giggling. "Good job," she praised. He was sturdy like her and had her soft brown-gold eyes but his hair was straight and near-white. His face, too was finely chiseled for a small boy and he had his father's mouth and nose. He didn't seem to mind not having a dad around so much. She'd told him his father died before he was born and showed him pictures of Rick. It won't hold water for long though, she knew. With the college educated mother and crafty, canny father he has, he willl know it's not true. Well she'd cross that road when she got to it.
She hugged her precious child, her miracle close until he grunted to be let loose. When she released him he went and sat in front of the tv. Stacy wiped a tear. Suddenly she saw Otis before her, laughing. "My greatest work, princess," he taunted.
Go away! she shouted in her mind. Leave me alone! The vision dissipated, leaving her heart speeding like a runaway train. She still had tormenting hallucinations.
My greatest work...
After half an hour or so they reached what looked like an abandoned well. "Ok, kids," intoned Otis, setting down his lantern. "Separating family members is a solemn occasion. Which is why I told RJ not to bring no hooch," he chuckled. He faced Tom, saying, "Sorry son, but Baby is done with you. Say hi to Dr. Satan while yer down there." The young man's eyes went wide, and he frantically started struggling, but RJ had a inexorable grip on him.
"Let's git on with it," complained Grampa Hugo. "I'm missin the Munsters on tv."
Without further ado the hatch was thrown open and Tom was bundled into a wooden box and lowered into the black abyss. "NOO!," hollered Stacy, straining toward the opening, but Tiny kept a reign on her. "Damn you!," she cursed them. Then her mouth dropped when she heard her brother's frantic screams. "Tom!," she cried, and jerked free of Tiny. An astonished Otis watched as she, without hesitating, dove down the well head- first. Air whizzed past her head and with her still-bound hands took hold of the rope that had lowered her brother. Wincing at the massive rope burn she slowed to a stop, still about 10 feet above the ground. She let go, splashing into shallow water. A few torches gave off some sparse light but she could make little out.
"Tom!," she called, heart thudding in her chest. "Where are you? Please! Tom!" She heard movement all around her, but could make out a faint "Stacy!," coming from in front of her at some distance. She began to make her way toward Tom's voice when hands were all over her, tearing, grabbing. "Uuugh!," she spat, pushing at them. They were about 15 humanoid, shambling shapes with dribbling mouths and empty eyes from what she could see by the faltering light.
"Stacy!," roared Otis from up above. "STACY!!"
"Fuck you!," she hurled back. "Fuck all of you!" She broke free of the zombies and took off down a cold dank passage, calling for her brother. Her heavy dress clung to her where it was wet, making it hard to run but run she did, slippered feet slapping on the hard ground. Turning a corner she ran smack into the large body of her sibling, a tiny scream hitching in her throat.
"Stace, is that you?"
"Yeah, oh God, Tom! What happened?," she said while hugging him.
"These things grabbed me and pushed and pulled me along. One took my flannel shirt and another untied my ropes. I didn't appreciate being groped in a cave that I've been thrown down by the Adams family from hell. Let's find a way outta here." Looking back down the tunnel at the strange life she'd made for herself she nodded and they both made their way forward.
"There's somebody!," whispered Stacy. Sure enough, someone was coming toward them, dragging one leg behind them. "Hello?," she hailed. The man muttered and seemed to be trying to speak, but couldn't. After a few fruitless moments he continued on, heedless of the siblings' entreaties.
Deeper and deeper the pair went, at times feeling their way down the halls, growing more despondant by the minute. Voices and rumbling machinery could be heard at times, but mostly faint and/or far away. The odors of earth, rot, and rust filled their nostrils as they moved along, their breath seeming to echo off the walls.
Then they came to a set of double doors, which they threw open in hopes of an exit. Harsh light and sterilized surroundings greeted them, making them squint. The large chamber looked somewhat like a lab, if you discounted the bloodstains covering parts of the wall. In the corner sat, like some gross malformed spider, the man--Dr. Satan. A breathing mask covered the lower half of his face, his leathery scalp bare and splotchy in the bright light. Mechanical appendages sprouted from parts of his body, tipped with nasty-looking utensils that moved in seeming agitation as he spied them. This person who was supposed to have died by mob justice, was there before them a hideous amalgamation of tissue and metal. And laughing. Rusty, gravelly laughter could be heard from behind the mask, overjoyed at the prizes which walked right onto his doorstep.
"Welcome," he hissed, and Stacy winced at the sound. "This will be your last stop."
Quickly glancing around the girl spotted a side door, and motioned to Tom. "Come on, let's try that door." They ran toward the door, trying to avoid the evil doctor. Mechanical arms whipped out at them, some still dripping blood and fluids. They both ducked and Stacy stumbled, grabbing at Tom's ruined khakis. He gripped an arm without even slowing down and dragged her after him, Stacy gibbering with fright. She could hear the whir of machinery and creak of old bones behind her, signalling Dr. Satan wasn't about to let them go.
Thankfully the door opened and the pair leapt through and kept running, unsure of where to go but uncaring at that point. Dr. Satan's howls of frustration could be heard behind them, then he seemed to be giving orders to someone. That put fire behind them and they pushed on.
They ran until their lungs burned and sides were heaving, and Stacy felt a bit nauseous. Stopping to rest she squatted and gasped, her heart pounding like a jackhammer. It was almost pitch black but she heard her brother breathing deeply beside her. After a few minutes their breathing slowed, allowing the fear to rise again. "Tom," she ventured, resting her head on his big shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to get involved in this mess."
"You think I'd give up on my little sister?," he told her, attempting to be light-hearted.
"Besides, what else am I gonna do? Keep workin at the garage? Pssshhh," he scoffed. He had been somewhat of a disappointment of the family, his younger sister Stacy attending college and behaving while he...didn't. Laying out all night, failing school and working when it suited him consisted of most his activities, but when his sister disappeared his lethargy evaporated. They then agreed it was time to get moving again. Then they heard it: footsteps behind them. Covering her mouth she dashed on behind her brother, wondering if they'd ever get out of this place.
Suddenly a hulking figure slammed into Tom, knocking him against the wall. Her vision had attuned to the near-dark, and she could see the masked creature carrying a huge mallet. Some kind of armor covered most of its body, round goggles on its face. It mouthed strangled noises, wheezing heavily as it swung the mallet down on Tom. "Noo!," Stacy screamed, pulling frantically on the thing's arm. The mallet head came crashing against the wall, inches from Tom's skull and chipping rock from the wall. It turned and planted a half-metal fist in her chest, sending her backwards gasping for air. Tom tried punching its face and it was like hitting a steel beam. The monster raised the weapon again and the lad took hold of it, preventing its use.
More creatures could be heard coming toward them, wheezing and grunting. Stacy had wobbily gotten to her feet, coughing and wondering if her collarbone was broken, then went to her brother's aid. "Stacy, no! You gotta get out. Go!," he shouted to her.
"What?! I can't leave you, Tommy," tears were pouring down her face. Dr. Satan's other minions were almost upon them.
"You have two lives to worry about," he gasped while he grappled with the creature. "Let my sacrifice mean something. I love you, Stace. Now GO!!"
"I love you, Tom." Tears blinding her vision, she tore down the right- handed tunnel, voicing her anguish as she did so. "Yaahhhh!," she yelped a few minutes later, splashing into a body of water. The unexpected dunking galvanized her again when she'd been about to give up. Floundering about a bit, she began making her way forward, praying that there wasn't a wide span of water. She lost her slippers while swimming, gulping quite a bit of what she hoped was semi-clean water in the process. As her limbs began burning with fatigue her feet touched ground, then she gratefully stumbled onto dry land. She looked up and saw a thin shaft of light shining down on her face.
"Oh please," she prayed aloud. Let it be a way out. Poking about she found debris, timber, rocks, car hoods and proceeded to stack them. Fear and anger fueled her now, pitying anyone or anything that would stop her. Fifteen minutes of work she climbed up the unstable platform grasping an old shovel handle she'd picked up. When she reached the ceiling she jabbed, forcing through the thin cover of this part of the caverns. Dirt, wood and stones fell in on her but she kept on, making an opening big enough to climb through. Heaving her large frame upwards she flopped herself into the outside world in the sunshine, where she vomited and rolled over, exhausted.
Rick bent down to kiss her, smiling his little-boy grin. "My lovebunny," he soothed. "Time to get up. You have to go on."
The hot summer sun beating down on her face woke Stacy, feeling sick and disoriented. She had eaten very little the day before, but threw up some food and bile anyways. Sobbing and gagging she sat up, her dirty, still- damp dress hanging on her. Must get to a phone, a hospital, somewhere.
Fingers were in her hair, she squealed in surprise and Otis was beside her in the dust, wearing a wifebeater t-shirt and ripped jeans. Looking into his face she expected his insane rage, and anger was there but there was something else: pain. She pushed at him but his lean arms went around her, preventing her from getting away. Overwrought, she spent her grief over her brother in the arms of the man who'd been the source of his downfall and had murdered her fiance. He said nothing, and he took nothing this time but gave. Perhaps because he knew she was leaving.
"You're mine," he said. "You belong with me."
"I belong to no one, thanks to you," was the reply. She was about to say she loved him and would stay when he was hit and propelled forward, head landing in her lap. Standing over them was someone she finally recognized after a moment--Jim, the man she'd help saved, all the worse for wear. His clothes were in tatters and face swollen beyond belief. He held his hand out to her, after a moment's hesitation she took it and stood.
"AAAaarrrgh!," the wraith snarled, addled. Jim and Stacy started running, the man barely able to limp along. He dropped the stone he'd brained Otis with and grasped that side of Stacy's dress. Otis got to his feet, growling, "Bitch, go ahead an' run! Go back to bein a rabbit!" His not- very-masculine voice rolled across the widening distance between them. "RUN, RABBIT, RUN!" Otis was at a loss, for once. Was this what heartbreak felt like? Well, it was the pits and those silly pansy cheerleaders and Malibu Barbies could keep it! Love, yeah fuckin right. He craved a drink.
Half a day they'd been stumbling down the road, wishing for someone to pick them up or another house to stop at. Drained, they sat under a tree beside the road. Jim's leg was broken, he was missing half an ear and one eye; Stacy's hands were raw and her whole chest a blackening bruise. The stump of her wounded finger had healed long ago, but looked worse than it really was. Eventually they were picked up by a shocked farmer and taken to the local clinic, where they were then transported to a good hospital. Police came and talked to them, then men in white coats tsking and shaking their heads. Jim Baker was whisked to a veteran's hospital when it was learned he'd served in Vietnam. Both were written off as crazy--nobody believed them. Oh, the police did a perfunctory investigation but came up with nothing, of course. Some of the officers even came back smiling with pink lipstick on their faces. Stacy learned to just drop it when she tried to convince people of her ordeal after having a brief stay in a mental hospital.
Several months later she was back in a hospital setting, crying out against all the gods and men in the world as she struggled to give birth. Ten hours into the labor Stacy slumped and the attending physician held up a perfect baby boy. Every purple vein could be seen under his translucent skin and he let loose an enraged howl. Stacy's parents, who'd come just in time, looked at each other, baffled.
When she came to a nurse placed the bundle of joy in her arms and she smiled. His skin was much better after getting warm, but his round baby head was topped with a fluff of white hair. Little Orion Thomas Robins had a proud mother and thoroughly disturbed but loving grandparents.
Fall, 1981--
Four-year-old Tommy colored in his coloring book while Stacy worked on her next article on her old typewriter. After having a bestselling book based on her misadventures she bought a nice little house near the city and put a swingset out front for her son. She had finished college, worked as a waitress, become an author all while juggling being a mother. A not quite mentally stable one, at that. "Look, Mom," Tommy said, showing her his picture. He'd drawn dinosaurs in the coloring book on a picture of bunnies frolicking in a field. One of the dinosaurs was biting down on one of the happy bunnies and he'd used quite a bit of the red crayon.
Ah that's my boy, she thought, giggling. "Good job," she praised. He was sturdy like her and had her soft brown-gold eyes but his hair was straight and near-white. His face, too was finely chiseled for a small boy and he had his father's mouth and nose. He didn't seem to mind not having a dad around so much. She'd told him his father died before he was born and showed him pictures of Rick. It won't hold water for long though, she knew. With the college educated mother and crafty, canny father he has, he willl know it's not true. Well she'd cross that road when she got to it.
She hugged her precious child, her miracle close until he grunted to be let loose. When she released him he went and sat in front of the tv. Stacy wiped a tear. Suddenly she saw Otis before her, laughing. "My greatest work, princess," he taunted.
Go away! she shouted in her mind. Leave me alone! The vision dissipated, leaving her heart speeding like a runaway train. She still had tormenting hallucinations.
My greatest work...