Chapter Seven

Torrents of rain plunged from the sky, soaking the two men. It drenched their clothes, saturating them within seconds. There was no light, until the lightning flashed, striking something near the mansion. Thunder rumbled, nearly deafening the two. The man in front turned on his light, turning thousands of droplets into sparkling diamonds before they passed through the beam. But the lead man seemed not to reassured; his beam illuminated about five feet of the large courtyard, and they were outside the mansion.

Something slid loudly in the mud behind him, causing Enrico to swivel and point the torch at the sound. A section of Kevin's yellow vest shone.

"I slipped," he said, simply.

"Are you sure you're alright? Don't make me order you to allow me to help." Enrico's voice was gruff, but at the same time cautious. His ears were perked, listening for attack.

"Nah, nah, I'm okay. Keep yourself free, in case any of those dogs notice we're out of the house."

"I don't think we're out of the house, or its perimeter. I think it's a courtyard. Hear how our voices echo?" Kevin in fact could not hear his voice echo, not over the pounding rain, but trusted the Captain's judgement. "But there's something else."

"What?"

"Graves."

That was worth investigation. Kevin hobbled forward, following Enrico's circle of light, seeing a slab of carved stone. ALIAS, was carved into its face. Kevin looked up at Enrico, long shadows across his face. They looked like they were frowning. Kevin frankly wanted to frown too. These people had time to dig graves and carve markers? That not only meant a lot of time, but some intelligent thought. There were more things, it seemed, than zombies here. Smarter things. More dangerous things.

As if on cue there came something under their feet, more a rumble than a sound, but almost like some animal roar. They thought. It was faint, and they were not sure if it had ever occurred. Maybe they had imagined it.

Neither of them thought so. Enrico turned to his comrade. "Kevin...stay here. I'm going to check out this area. If anything's wrong, call me." Enrico disappeared into the rain.

The captain's eyes studied what area was revealed by the flashlight. Mud, fence, rain, mud, grave, fence, mud. His grey moustache dripped. His hair was soaked. The rain seeped through his vest and was cold against his chest, his stomach. Water of a different sort dripped from under his arms. The path ended abruptly at a large tomb, the wet stone shining brightly in the white light, against the surrounding black and whatever it held. Its front was decorated with a cherub, or cupid, or something. One of the half naked kids with a bow and arrow. As he aimed the torch downward, he saw a rectangular outline – a door.

"Hey, Kevin! Come see this."

The co-pilot took one step forward, smashed his injured leg into a slab of rock and instantly collapsed with a cry. Landing on his side in the mud, he grasped the bloody bandage, feeling waves of pain passing through his system. A high, sad whine escaped gritted teeth. Within a second Enrico was at his side. "Are you all right?"

Kevin was by no means all right. "I'm FINE – " he hissed, feeling the pain beginning to abate. "Just – just keep going, all I need is a second."

Enrico kneeled and extended his arms. "Kevin – "

"I just need a minute!"

"Than only for a minute," Enrico ended, gently. "You'd do the same for me."

Kevin resigned himself to the inevitable. Enrico's left arm slipped under Kevin's legs, the right arm wrapping around his back. Enrico lifted with his knees, Kevin cradled against his chest like a child. Having to reassure himself that he was not relieved, that he was not glad to be carried about, Kevin wrapped his forearm around the back of the older man's wet neck. "Back to the stairs," Enrico muttered.

"Wait," Kevin said, his voice a gasp. "What did you see?"

Enrico tilted his head. "Over there." Kevin used his free hand to free one of the Berettas and flip on the torch. The giant slab of stone shone brilliantly. "Whassat?" he asked.

The arrowhead was missing from the carving, only a triangular hole where it should have been. "Can you take me over there?" Enrico did so, and Kevin fingered the arrowhead hole curiously. "This is weird..."

A faint sound came out of the darkness; it may have been a snarl, or a yell, or a bark. It may have been rain. It may have been nothing. Enrico peered around, then tilted his head and whispered in Kevin's ear.

"I think we'd better go back," was his statement, voice low.

Kevin's thin arm strained. "Wait, wait, just...one..." Kevin could feel a couple of buttons in the depression and attempted to hold them down. After two seconds a grating sound came from beneath the two men, causing Enrico to take a step backwards in alarm. The door opened, stone steps leading down below the altar, an unknown distance to a rocky floor. A red glow and the sound of clanking machinery came up from the depths.

The two men looked at each other.

Walking down the steps was hard. They were unevenly cut and Enrico couldn't see them past Kevin. They had to take it slowly, footfalls echoing in the narrow, claustrophobic stairway, both men looking around them in an amazed state. The sound of turning gears swallowed up the footsteps eventually, the red glow increasing in intensity, until the tunnel looked as if made of fire and brimstone.

When Enrico's feet finally hit the bottom floor, the red light was bright enough to see by. It was also very warm. "Let me down," Kevin said, quietly, Enrico lowering him to the floor. Kevin limped, hand on the wall, to the side. Statues of four faces were set into the rock. The co-pilot tilted his head, thin fingers tracing along their surfaces. Enrico could see his lips moving silently.

After pausing at the last face for a second, Kevin turned to face the Captain. The mirrored visor glowed a shone red. "What's down there?"

The cavern continued around one corner, turning around a jutting wall of rock. Enrico, eyes narrowed for the first sign of danger, was ready to pull his gun at a moment's notice. But there was nothing. A grate in the wall revealed a roaring fire, the source of the light, and a coffin hung from the ceiling by chains. Enrico had just relaxed when he heard a sliding on the dusty floor behind him.

He whirled, hand going to his holstered pistol. It was Kevin, leaning on the wall. "Anything useful?"

Enrico shook his head, but Kevin was already looking past him. "What's that?" At the end of the cavern, a pedestal housed a black book. Enrico walked over, frowned, and picked it up. He tried to open the pages but couldn't. The cover seemed stuck closed, for some reason.

Kevin hobbled over. "Can I see that?" Enrico handed him the book, and Kevin ran a finger over the sides. He inspected the cover – "Book of Curse." Nothing out of the ordinary. He flipped it over in his hands, noticing a glint of metal on the back. Stopping it in his fingers, he turned the back cover upward and plucked the piece of metal. It was a key. Several more keys clattered to the floor, freed. Passing the book to Enrico, Kevin knelt and swept them off the floor, the metal glowing red in the firelight. He inspected the teeth. "These are all the same," he said, with an air of surprise.

Enrico was more interested in the book; the covers were now unstuck. It opened to a particular page, as if opened to the spot several times before. "A mask that sees no evil..." he said, causing Kevin to look up. The thrashing flames threw shadows about his face. The captain continued. "A mask that hears no evil...a mask that speaks no evil...a mask that sees, smells, hears and tastes no evil...when the faces fall into place, the evil will awaken."

Enrico looked alarmed. Kevin slowly got to his feet, keys still clenched in an orange fist. "Captain," he started, speaking slowly and quietly, "do you realize what that means?"

"...No."

"Those faces set into the wall back there, at the bottom of the stairs – they all had something missing."

"Eyes, ears, noses and mouths?"

"Yeah...actually, Captain, I think this whole thing is a puzzle. Like the keys, hidden in the back of this book...I think we have to find something to do with masks, and do something to those statues with them. Actually...I wouldn't be surprised if this mansion is going to be filled with puzzles. This book was held closed with electromagnets, you see these here? We had to find the keys to open it. The way this whole thing is going..." Kevin trailed off, the sentence saying enough even when unfinished.

The next moment was only filled with the sound of clanking machinery. "The situation's gone from bad to bizarre," said Enrico, finally. He looked at Kevin. "This place has only one entrance or exit. I want you to stay here. I'll get the others to try and find these masks, and tell them there may be other weird twists in this location. Contact us if there's any problems."

Kevin saluted. "Yes, sir."

Enrico looked down at him. "Don't call me sir, Kevin. I work for my money."

Kenneth's survival knife slid easily out of its pouch. He raised it, in one tight fist, and held it at head height. His bicep was tense and quivering. After getting to his feet, he inspected his surroundings – a narrow hallway, light peeking around a turn at its end. He pressed himself back against the door, steadying himself.

Behind him, the door suddenly kicked forward, Kenneth's nerves throwing him forward. Spun on his feet, knife in a stabbing position, eyes wide. The door was still closed, but a low moan came from the other side. It suddenly shook again, banging loudly, causing Kenneth to gasp as he took an involuntary step backward. He felt sweat trickle down his back and under his arms. The door banged again, and Kenneth saw a crack appear in the flimsy, flimsy wood. Kenneth turned and ran, as fast as he could, to the end of the hallway and took the turn. The hallway continued until an empty doorway, leading to a dimly lit room with peeling wallpaper. Kenneth passed through the doorway, jumped to the side to avoid a birdcage-housing table and tripped over something on the ground. He hit the floor, hard, winding himself, as the object he tripped over rolled under his foot. He flipped to his back, fearfully, as the object fell across him – a corpse, flesh pruned and mummified. He screamed aloud; a high, piercing cry that echoed off the walls. Never mind that the corpse wasn't moving; never mind that the door had stopped banging. To Kenneth, the sky was falling.

"Get away from me – get the hell away from me – GET THE FUCKING HELL AWAY FROM ME!!!" Kenneth's arm stabbed downward, repeatedly, the point plunging into the corpse's skull and throat over and over. He then threw the body off of him, not knowing whether it was dead and really not caring. He leapt to his feet, going from a prone position to erect in one movement, and ran full tilt at the stairs. He hit the banister, flipped over, and swung awkwardly onto the steps. He thundered up the wood planks, dust drifting down. He turned and hit the second floor, the swinging light playing hell with shadows. Kenneth saw one such leap of shade swing out to his left and threw himself in the opposite direction. Hitting a wall, he stumbled and hit another door, opening it, falling through and pulling it shut behind him.

Kenneth staggered backwards, still facing the door. His hoarse wheezes ripped through the air, his bloody knife held clenched in one fist. Backing up, he saw a break in the wall appear to his left – another hallway – and took it. He saw a door in front of him. He jumped, grabbed the knob – and it didn't open. It was locked, probably from the other side. He jumped back as if shocked with electricity and saw something move to his right. He stabbed the knife brutally, saw the image explode, and realized he had just attacked a mirror. The shards of glass had slashed his right arm, but he hadn't noticed. A few jagged, but mirrored bits clung to the wooden frame, and in them he saw a fat, bald man reach for him.

Kenneth screamed again as he whirled, knife in a wide arc. Blood sprayed to the side as the blade bit into flesh, staining yellow wallpaper. The zombie seemed unfazed, arms grasping Kenneth by the shoulder and jaws coming forward. Kenneth threw up an arm to shield his face and cried out when teeth bit into his forearm. The knife came up, stabbing the zombie in the side of the head, plunging into its throat, sinking between its ribs. Eventually it moaned and Kenneth threw it off him, leaping over squirming man as he crashed to the floor. He was off like a shot, coming around a corner, seeing another mirror, turning another corner and crashing his considerable weight directly into another man. The two fell as one to the floor. This one was thinner, more fit; in a more advanced state of decay as Kenneth could feel maggoty flesh squirm beneath his fingers. The rotting arms immediately wrapped around his back, the lipless jaw in a sick grin before flashing up towards his close face, as if for a kiss. Kenneth howled, snapping his head back just in time, teeth snapping together with a hollow sound. The point of the survival knife dug in below its chin, stabbing through, pinning the jaw shut and the tongue against the roof of his mouth. It continued to try to bite him, closed teeth wiping his teeth and leaving tracks of slimy saliva on his cheek. Kenneth brought fists down on the zombie, pounding its face, crushing its features. He pulled out the knife and stabbed the zombie In its eyes, its nose, its temples, all reason lost in a sudden rush of fear, the impulse to kill or be killed. The point stabbed through one of its smoky, white eyes; the eyeball tore as he twisted the blade in a state of panic. The zombie, unknowing, continued to moan and grasp at him despite the blood flowing over its cheeks. Kenneth pulled out the knife and jumped for the closest door – locked, also. He felt something pull back on his foot and turned, nearly falling.

"Oh, God!" The one-eyed zombie was trying to bite through his boot, and the bald, obese creature was shambling around the corner. He kicked, breaking its grip, and went for the only other door he could find. It was also locked – but saw a switch underneath the knob. He flipped it, unlocking the door, and turned the polished brass knob. The door opened. He took one step, felt the hand around his heel, and fell, hitting the wood floor hard. He kicked at the door, getting it closed just as the bloated man was filling the doorway. He heard the door thump, but it closed.

Kenneth just laid there, watching the door. He didn't move for a while after that.