Ch. 52: Hell's Tunnel II
A.N.:
Hey everyone!
Happy Easter!
As always, nothing is off limits in this series xD It is like Rule 34 or just the internet in general. However, let me assure you that even I have my limits.
Read and review if you want.
My progress through the pitch black abyss of the nightmarish subway tunnel was a grueling test of my willpower as it felt as if my skull was splitting open with every single step. Alma had indeed saved my life but it still felt as if my mind was burning inside my skull. Beyond the subway car, the air inside the tunnel progressively became more stale and colder. It was almost as if the energy in the air was being absorbed by some entity.
A faint suction noise was given off by the rubber soles of my boots due to the collection of moisture along the bottom of the tunnel as I walked just to the left of the incarnation of rage. Alma was holding the small lantern slightly out in front of her as we made our way down the tunnel. To her right was Alpha 1, who hardly seemed any worse for wear following the disturbing and brutal fight with that humanoid creature inside the subway car.
I mentally shivered as I remembered the creature's wide smile. Unlike the other times that Akira had sent her apparitions after us, this time something was different. That smiling monster was like nothing that I had encountered before. Even as twisted as she was, I doubted that Akira would have been capable of such a disturbing humanoid. Moreover, when a being such as Alma or Akira manifested an apparition that was born from the raw edge of their angst, the apparition was marked from being born in such a way. The manifestation was quite literally living in its own Hell due to being in some manner or another living a tortured existence.
That thing in the subway car was not living in its own Hell. There were no indications that it was somehow being tortured. If anything, the smiling abomination was living in its own heaven. If Akira herself was not responsible for such a monster, then what was? Perhaps, the barriers between planes of existence had become so thin that there was essentially a "bleeding effect" between the worlds.
The idea was so asinine; so illogical that it had to be true. I could not even begin to imagine what we were going to face within the walls of this tunnel. With the respectively infinite versions of our own world somehow all destroyed except for our own, the beings of these new, "other worlds" would be completely unknown to perhaps even Alma.
How far we had traveled from the subway car before a small red toy ball bounced into the light of our lantern, I do not know. The small red object bounced along the supporting slats underneath the rails at uniform heights until it reached our feet. There, it halted completely while a creepy girlish giggle erupted from the darkness.
Not exactly understanding why I did, I bent down and retrieved the small object with my free left hand. I stood up and examined the ball for possible information about the source of the creepy giggling. However, the thick rubber hide of the red children's toy failed to yield any information about its master.
As if the unknown being was amused by my actions, the voice of a prepubescent girl said from somewhere in the darkness before us, "Aw does the big, tough soldier want to play with me?" Before my eyes, the ball transformed into the bloody, rotting face of an unidentified man. The rotting flesh and worms crawling in and out of its eye sockets did not revolt me at all. The child-like being was merely playing mind games and, thanks to my wife, I was now a master at seeing through them. Moments later, the rotting skull transformed back into the red ball.
Delighted, if not impressed, the being appeared from the darkness to reveal itself to have the appearance of an innocent Caucasian girl that was about eight or nine years old. The "girl" was clad in a smoke grey hoodie with its hood raised up to cover the top of her head and light blue jeans. Her pale bare feet were visible beneath the bottom of her jeans, which were too long for her. Her pale, almost porcelain, white face that tapered off to a beautiful rounded point at her chin was filled with sorrow and had a silent scream for help seemingly etched into said sorrowful expression. A few strands of raven hair hung down over her face that, aside from being out-of-place and not with the rest of her hair, seemed perfect in their length and shine.
However, there was something wrong with her, aside from the obvious given the circumstances. I could not find a cause for my instinctual distrust of the seemingly helpless child before me. However, a small voice inside my head continued to warn me to not trust this girl or drop my guard no matter how desperately she might beg for my help.
She kept her head down so I could not get a read on her eyes as she slowly walked towards us. Whenever she spoke, her voice, though it sounded like a child's, had the air of a much older individual. However, while a being such as my wife had such a voice when she was in her child form, I sensed that this being only had this one form and was not speaking in this way to merely unnerve us. Moreover, her shyness seemed genuine as I observed the way that she hesitated with each step and her spine remained rigid as she seemed to force herself forward towards us.
Once she had come within an arm's length of us, she asked shyly, "Can I have my ball back please?"
Slowly, I extended my left arm out and placed her ball into her awaiting hands. As she took her ball from my grasp, she commented with a polite tone, "You have very strong hands, mister."
I noticed her cheeks flush red as she continued while she brought the ball to her chest, "I wish I had a man that was as strong as you to play with."
Before I could reply, Alma informed the strange girl with a sweet tone that had a threatening underlying edge to it, "Don't waste your time, sweetie, he's married to moi."
I noticed her fingernails digging into the sides of the ball as she slowly scratched them when the girl said with a polite yet darkened tone, "Married…?" She seemed to size up my wife for a moment before she looked at me and commented apologetically, "I'm so sorry mister. You must be absolutely bored with this one."
She then taunted her competition, "Flat chest…flat ass…I cannot imagine what he sees in you. Why…if I was his wife, I would make sure that he would never have the incentive to leave our bed."
I backed away slightly as I saw Alma cock her head to the right slightly as she asked, "Would you now?"
Alpha 1 also began to back away as the strange girl replied, "Yes…" She flexed her back, revealing her developed chest beneath the cloth of her hoodie. I had to admit that for her child-like frame, she possessed enticing physical attributes. She finally raised her head up enough so that we could get a good look at her eyes. I was slightly intimidated by the solid black ovals that looked back at us. Even Akira's eyes had more light in them than this being's eyes did. Moreover, the faint outline of Akira's irises were visible and when she was in emotional distress her eyes would revert to white with steel grey irises. However, this beings eyes were just black with absolutely no sign of irises whatsoever.
I had heard of these beings before in my time in Delta Force but I had been too young, too close-minded to believe the stories to be anything other than the drunken ramblings of insane or crazy individuals. Black-eyed children they called them. Supposedly otherworldly beings that used the disguise of young children between the ages of eight and sixteen to gain entrance into people's homes under the pretense of needing to use the inhabitant's phone or to escape some unspecified danger.
Even the original "inventor" of the internet sensation admitted that they were a hoax that he had dreamed up but people believed him and soon, through the internet, stories surfaced. The "black-eyed children phenomenon" took off like wildfire and the stories persisted well into the twenty first century. They had the mysterious allure of the ancient vampire stories and had noticeable similarities such as the being's need for a verbalized invitation to pass through an owned domicile's threshold. With the popularization of "scary" or "weird" things on the internet such as the so-named site "Creepypasta", the children remained a popular phenomenon.
As she finished displaying her physical endowments, the being then smiled at me slightly. As if she was saddened by my retreat, she remarked, "Come back, mister. I don't intend to hurt you. I just want to make you feel better. If you really must insist on your wife remaining in the relationship, then perhaps a threesome is in order?"
Alma sighed before she gave me a pleading look. At one time, I would have been shocked that my wife would have even considered such a proposal. I remarked, "Alma!"
The raven-haired demoness informed the black-eyed girl, "Good luck, sweetie, I have been barking up that tree for nearly two years now."
The girl looked down at her ball where she was holding it against her chest. Quietly, she said with a flat, psychotic tone, "Noooo?!" She then looked up at me with a hurt expression on her porcelain-like face. I kept my rifle at the ready as I knew that the being was only seconds away from a complete child-like tantrum the likes of which this tunnel had never seen before. Completely delusional, the being smiled at me and then remarked, "I forgive you, my love. You have been enslaved by this…freak…I-I will set you free."
Before I could reply, the girl suddenly thrust her ball forward through the air. As the small object reached us, it suddenly exploded. The deafening noise was followed by thick, nearly impenetrable, clouds of smoke that completely obscured the surrounding tunnel. I swiveled around on my feet with my rifle at the ready as I tried to penetrate the smoke. However, before I could identify the black shadow figures around me, I was seized up by a small child-sized mass.
The next thing that I knew, I was lying on my back. When my senses caught up to the situation, I found that I was on top of a king-sized bed in a small, apartment-sized bedroom. The walls were clean white and had one large photograph in a large oval picture frame in the center of three of the walls surrounding the bed. The photographs appeared to be of a couple but whenever I tried to focus on the individuals to make out any distinguishable features, my head would begin to spin. The wall to my left had an entrance to a small bathroom.
I started to stand but, instantly, my body rebelled against the idea as intense disorientation racked my mind. Nausea rose up in my body and I was finally forced back down onto the bed. When the disorientation ceased, I realized that there was not an exit to the room and that I was effectively trapped. There was something else as well. The overall vibe that I got from the appearance of the room reminded me of a television show that I had once seen long ago. As I struggled to remember the name of the series, I became aware of soft singing that was coming from inside the bathroom.
The notes of the song ate at my sense of nostalgia and I soon remembered that they came from the theme song of the television series. My captor was oddly cheerful considering the circumstances and I even detected indications of a sense of long-awaited success as if she had accomplished a goal that she had been attempting to accomplish for an incalculable number of years.
I knew that the song was almost over and looked down at my right leg. There, in its holster, was my stainless steel .44 magnum Super Redhawk Revolver. As I reached for its custom grip with my gloved right hand, I heard the small girl in the bathroom sing the line that was the signature phrase for the entire theme song and the series as well. "In this weary world of change and uncertainty, there is only one place, oh yes, there is only place that I call home…Happy Grove."
As if I had been hit by a sledgehammer, it suddenly came back to me. Happy Grove was an old television series from back in the 1970's. It was about a family that lived in an idealized 1950's-era suburb called Happy Grove. It was the cliché "All-American" family with the stay-at-home wife that essentially bent over backwards for her husband, who was the idealized working man that came home every day at six o'clock on the dot and put everything right that had come unraveled in his absence, the cheerleader daughter, the football star son, and the golden retriever dog named Lucky.
In truth, the show was not noteworthy compared to the other shows of the time. It was not controversial or pushed any social taboos. In fact, it was the complete opposite. Beneath the glitz and glamor of the episodes was an underlying message of a call to the return to the "old way" of American society in a time when the United States was undergoing monumental social reforms. It was that sense of returning to innocence that allowed the otherwise bland show to run for many years and seasons before finally having to air a final episode where the daughter, having lost her bubbly demeanor by this time, married her long-time sweetheart (aka: the boy next door), the son accepted a full football scholarship from the unspecified "All-American Team" and went off to that university, and the husband and wife were left alone in the empty house, Lucky having been killed off in an episode meant to teach the value of life and moving on by this time.
The final scene was the two cuddling in each other's arms as they sat on the couch in the living room. Normally, whenever they tried to do this, one of the children would suddenly storm into the room to receive the father's guidance over some trivial issue. However, now that the children were gone, they were uninterrupted as they leaned in and kissed each other for the first time in the entire series. As they kissed, a short montage of the show's many episodes played while the theme song played. Then, the screen went to black before the credits began to roll.
However, the very first time that the last episode aired, if the viewer waited until the end, they would see the living room, now without the wife or husband characters anywhere to be seen, from the viewpoint of the front door. The television screen could be seen and if one had examined it close enough, they would have been shocked to see that it was actually playing the credits of the final episode. Said viewer would have then been startled when the screen suddenly shattered as a young girl screamed, "Noooo!" The camera would pan up towards the entrance to the kitchen and there, in the threshold, stood a young girl around the age of nine in a white Sunday school dress with a porcelain-like face and pitch black eyes. Just before the screen finally cut to black one last time, the girl glared at the camera and said cryptically, "The show is NOT over!"
Despite the creepy nature of the scene, the viewers that had seen it were excited because they believed that the show was, in fact, not truly over and that the scene was a message to the fans of the series that there was going to be either a spinoff, reboot, or even a sequel involving one of the grown children in their own "Happy Grove family". However, when the fans questioned the studio and writers about the final scene, all they got were blank stares and confusion because such a scene had never been shot in the entire history of the show's production. The true "final episode" did not have such a scene following the credits but fans continued to voice their insistence that it had, in fact, occurred.
The bathroom door opened and I looked to see the black-eyed girl standing before me. She was wearing a miniature version of the bland yet colorful 50's-style dress that the show's wife always wore. Her demeanor was not threatening. If anything, it was submissive, so I ceased my attempt to reach the grip of my revolver. For now, I would let this insanity play out. She did a cute little twirl as if to present herself to me before she asked, "How do I look, my love?"
Holding onto my cards until I needed to play them, I smiled slightly and then remarked, "You look lovely…it occurs to me that you never told me your name."
Her cheeks flushed red for a brief moment as if she was embarrassed. Then, she said, "Forgive me, I do not know where my manners have gone today. My name is Abigail."
I smiled softly and then informed her, "My name is Michael."
She moved forward and then sat down next to me on the bed. She sighed and then said, "I apologize for separating you from your wife, but I know you will forget about her soon enough. I will be the perfect wife for you. You'll see. You'll come home from a long day of work…I'll already have dinner ready…your favorite drink waiting for you at the door…I'll keep my mouth shut until spoken to…and I'll be ready to make you happy as your lover."
I said, "Happy Grove…you are talking about Happy Grove…aren't you Abigail."
The psychopathic being smiled brightly before she replied, "Happy Grove was my life for so long. I always dreamed of someday being the wife. I am a born wife…all I want to do is make my husband happy. Now…with you…I can finally save Happy Grove."
Confused, I asked, "Save…Happy Grove?"
Abigail smiled in a creepy manner before she replied, "Of course, you will be my husband and, once you give me your children, we can have a family just like in the show."
If it was not for the fact that I was being threatened with rape by a nine year old-looking being, I would have been slightly insulted by the breathtakingly cliché situation of being held hostage by an individual that was obsessed with an obscure 1970's television show. Abigail smiled as she moved to straddle my waist. I was suddenly unable to move though if it was due to her power or my own hesitation, I did not know.
Effectively performing a striptease, the black-eyed girl slowly removed her clothing to reveal the developed, toned pale frame beneath the dress. While not comically over developed, her frame was incredibly attractive for belonging to such a young girl. While not as attractive as Alma's seductive form, this girl was definitely enough to drive ordinary men to their knees and worship her.
However, having been, for lack of a better word, spoiled by Alma, Abigail's efforts were for not as I was neither physically nor mentally aroused by her display. As it became apparent that she was not achieving the effect that she was hoping for, Abigail became more aggressive. However, she had no sooner touched the buckle of my belt before, in the far right corner of the room, a black miasma materialized.
Unintelligent words filled the air as Alma materialized before us in her child form. Her pale legs and feet were covered with fresh blood that left bloodied footprints on the white carpet as she stalked forward with her raven-hair covering her face like a curtain. Showing her dominance over the black-eyed girl, the demoness of homicidal rage transformed the world around her with every step.
Everything in her wake became part of her world. The walls began to liquefy and fall away to reveal the hellish landscape of Alma's mind. Clearly terrified, Abigail materialized her Sunday school dress back over her frame and then jumped from the bed. Facing the approaching red dress-clad demoness, Abigail wailed, "Why?! Why? My home! Why are you destroying my home?!"
Though outmatched by Alma's vastly superior power, Abigail attempted to counter the destruction of her home with a notably powerful psychic blast. A brief battle of wills ensued but, ultimately, the black-eyed girl was no match for my wife. With her home all but destroyed before her eyes, the girl was thrown backwards into the corner to the left of the head of the bed. The impact was hard enough to briefly stun her. With Alma now standing before her with a cold, merciless expression on her mask-like face, Abigail curled up into a ball and began to cower in the corner as far back as she could press her tiny form.
Now standing next to my wife, I looked down at the crying being. Her only goal had been effectively destroyed along with the only place that she could call her home. All she had ever wanted was a family of her own. Despite my own irritation at my weakness, I sighed and then said to the girl, "Abigail, please stop crying. We're not going to hurt you." The young black-eyed girl sniffled as she finally managed to look up at me. Her face was a mess with a running nose and puffy eyes that had black tears emerging from them. Just like a child, she reached up and used her forearms to whip away some of the mess. I addressed her, "You want a home…a family…right?" She nodded shyly in confirmation.
I sighed once again before I said, "Say you help us fight against Akira…no promises…but…maybe, maybe mind you…you can come live with us after it is all over."
I could sense Alma smirking at me to tease me about my secret kind-hearted nature. I ignored her as Abigail stopped crying, stood, and then asked, "Y-you m-mean i-it?"
With our forces needing as much help as they could get, we were in no position to be picky about who it was that was fighting for us. Abigail literally had no home or "purpose for living" anymore so she was the perfect being to recruit into our forces. I smiled gently at her and then replied, "I am a man of my word, Abigail. Of course, I mean it." Shocked by the turn of events, the disheveled girl moved away from the wall with her hands held together against her chest. As she neared my wife, Alma took the girl into her arms and held the black-eyed child against her chest.
Effectively pacified, Abigail said submissively, "I l-love you, mom-momma."
Alma smiled as she placed her chin on top of the submissive child's head. Then, the demoness assured Abigail, "Mommy loves you too, Abigail. Now, be a good girl and do as Daddy says." Nodding her head in a determined manner, Abigail dissolved into a cloud of ash as she transported herself to the raging battle above ground.
Now that we were alone, I commented, "Ugh…why is it that every Loli that I come across wants to have sex with me?"
Alma snickered before she replied, "Loli…? Aw, has my sweet, innocent Michael come over to the dark side?"
I groaned and then said, "If you are asking if I approve of those animated shows with the bug-eyed girls with the impossibly proportioned bodies that you adore for some reason…then the answer is an emphatic no."
My wife giggled before she assured me, "Aw, don't be jealous Michael. I love you just as much as I love my eroge."
I snorted and then remarked, "Gee thanks…that's what every husband wants to hear from his wife…she loves him just as much as fictional stories involving animated characters getting fucked."
Alma stuck her tongue out at me in response. I added, "Besides, I don't see why you like that stuff so much…I mean…you are basically a Loli."
The demoness narrowed her left eye before she commented, "Oh please, those girls wish that they could be as hot as me."
I rolled my eyes in response. Alma pouted and then informed me, "Oh, Michael, now you have gotten me all hot and bothered…I need you to give me release before we continue."
At first, I thought that she was merely teasing me again. However, my wife jumped up onto the nearest edge of the still-present bed. She placed her hands behind her and then leaned back. The hem of her dress fell back to reveal her completely exposed womanhood between her parted legs. I could feel my face getting hot as sweat rolled down the back of my head. However, this time, I had come prepared. Reaching out with my gloved right hand, I placed my right palm on top of her head and began to pet her. My tactic succeeded in causing Alma to smile brightly in an almost comical manner. Appeased for the time being, she transported us back to the subway tunnel where Alpha 1 was waiting for us.
There, I hugged my wife tightly before releasing her. Alma giggled loudly in amusement and then retrieved the lantern from where it was on the ground. My brother gave me a quizzical look from beneath his cracked mask. I explained, "Have you hugged your Loli today? It's essential that you hug and feed your Loli daily."
He replied with his disguised voice, "I will neither confirm nor deny these allegations."
I asked, "Right…how is Amara?"
He replied, "She is fine. Ares is providing her with plenty of entertainment for now."
I nodded my head as I readied my assault rifle. Then, along with my brother, I fell in beside the red-dress clad demoness as she moved forward into the darkness of the tunnel. It could not have been more than one hundred yards before we came upon an airtight heavy steel blast door that sealed off the tunnel beyond. The vault-door-like seal was part of the automated security system of the Hong Kong Metro. Its bright red surface was as imposing as it was enormous. In many ways, the blast door was similar to the one that was blocking access to the Happy Memories Facility in Fairport. There, I had been able to use the ATC Armored Train to literally bulldoze my way through the obstacle. However, here I obviously would not have such luck as a convenient nearby armored train.
Beside me, Alma asked, "Okay…so now what?"
Thinking quickly, I replied, "The system might have been automated, but there would still be a manual override switch somewhere."
Alpha 1 added, "Agreed. Experience indicates that we should backtrack and look for a service area."
Nodding, I said, "Indeed. Come on, let's backtrack and look for a service area that we might have missed." We turned and proceeded back the way that we had come. This time, we paid extra attention to the slick, wet, round tunnel walls. I had not noticed anything unusual when had first walked this way but perhaps it was because I was not looking for anything in particular at the time.
By this time, the salt water and wet black sand from the beach landing had dried. As a result, my every step became more and more an exercise in torture. Already I could tell that I was going to have painful rashes in some very sensitive areas, my groin in particular, due to the rubbing of the salt and sand coated cloth against my skin. Thankfully, my boots were Gore-Tex lined and, thus, allowed my feet to "breathe". As such, I was not at risk for developing Trench Foot. I had to press on no matter how much physical torture I was put through. Besides, this was nothing compared to the classified trials that I was put through before I was officially accepted into Delta Force. I may have been given a voucher from the senator but, if anything, that made my "Hell Week" even more brutal as the senior operatives wanted to make sure that I had truly earned my voucher and was not just some spineless "someone's son" whose daddy had bought him a free ride into one of the most prestigious Special Forces in the world.
Approximately thirty yards back down the tunnel, I noticed something off about the appearance of the wall. Pausing, I informed my comrades about the unusual discoloration in the tunnel surface. As Alma held her lantern closer to the surface of the tunnel wall, Alpha 1 walked forward and tapped on it with the side of his gloved left fist. Sure enough, a series of dull thuds were the response. There was indeed something on the other side of the bricks.
I snickered before I asked with a dark tone, "Anyone else feel like Edgar Allen Poe?"
Alma giggled darkly in response. After placing our weapons on our back, my brother and I retrieved our utility combat knives, in Alpha 1's case his KA-BAR fighting knife, and then attacked the bricks. The poorly set mortar between the tan bricks was no match for the razor sharp steel of our knives and soon crumbled away. Brick by brick, we removed the false wall blocking our way into the service area beyond.
The glowing light of Alma's lantern penetrated the darkness to reveal the grey steel hatch-like door beyond. The steel door had a large metal wheel-like mechanism in the center that was noticeably in the sealed position from the inside. However, this did not cause me any alarm and I finished helping my brother removed the remaining bricks. I placed my utility knife back in its sheath and then retrieved my bayonet-equipped assault rifle once the bricks had been removed. As I happened to look at the ground off to the side in the space between the former brick façade and the sealed metal door, however, a shiver went down my spine.
There, I saw a trowel, some spare bricks, and a small container that, along with the trowel, had remains of dried mortar in it. The horrifying realization set in. Someone or something had been so frightened that he, she, or it had literally buried himself, herself, or itself alive inside the service area of the tunnel. To say that I was not exactly burning with curiosity about what was beyond that sealed entrance would be a brutal understatement. My mind felt cold as I fought to find the resolve to continue.
I even jumped slightly when I felt Alma's tiny left hand touch my right side. Calming myself, I looked down at my wife with a brave face. She, of course, was not fooled and assured me with a motherly tone, "There is nothing alive in there, Michael."
I let out a nervous laugh before I replied, "I know…that is why I am afraid." I feared no mortal creature because I knew that I possessed the skills and expertise to kill it. However, I was terrified by the supernatural, paranormal, and unknown. By its very nature, it was nearly impossible to neutralize such opponents. I suppose the grandest irony of my entire life was that I had always hated scary things. I was perhaps the biggest "scaredy-cat" in all of Sparta.
War, death, destruction, and the grotesque I could handle without losing a night of sleep but it was the humble proverbial ghost story that always gave me nightmares even as an adult. As if a cruel joke, fate had decided that I would essentially become my own ghost story and even marry the one thing that had given me such horrible nightmares as a child and young adult. In truth, Alma was not a ghost but the term was close enough to be used in layman's terms to describe her.
Courage is defined as the ability to continue forward despite being afraid. In my book, that is called being a suicidal dumb-ass. Your mind and body are trying to keep you from doing something incredibly stupid. However, as a soldier, I recognized that I had a duty to persevere through any hardship. That was the duty that I had sworn an oath to the day that I was accepted into the military and that was the oath that I carried on my shoulders.
"Mi-Michael, you…you're shaking."
I replied gruffly, "I'm fine."
Alma stubbornly persisted and said with a worried tone, "You're terrified."
Steeling my resolve, I replied just as stubbornly but with a firm tone, "Terrified?! I am offended that you would even suggest such a thing. I have killed thousands of people, dead dropped from fucking orbit, been to Hell and back, survived a nuclear warhead explosion at pointblank range, survived the Origin Explosion, and looked my rapist in the eyes and told her to suck my dick…Sergeant Michael Becket is never terrified by anything!"
With my rifle up at the ready, I motioned for my brother to unseal the door. As my heavily armored brother took ahold of the steel wheel, Alma commented, "Well…that was all well and good…but…for the record, you have never said the words, 'suck my dick' to me…ever."
As the deafening metal screech of the door's unlocking mechanism rocked the air, I growled back, "It is called having CLASS, my love…" I nearly smashed my head against the nearby wall as I could not believe what I had just said. My wife, on the other hand, squealed with absolute delight and was all but jumping up and down with joy. The light-hearted demeanor of the situation, however, vanished completely as my brother finally succeeded in unlocking the door and then opened it. Instantly, a loud whistling gust of ice cold air blasted us as it escaped from inside the pitch black space of the service area.
Probably nothing…just the…the…the result of the pressure being released by the opening of the airtight entrance. Yeah…that's it. Pressure release.
I started to move forward into the darkness, but Alma raised her left hand out before me to stop me. Confused, I looked down to see her walking forward with her lantern still brightly lit. The raven-haired demoness briefly looked back up at me as she said, "Manners…ladies first." Before I could argue, she turned her head back and then continued forward into the darkness. Not wanting to be left alone in the encroaching darkness of the tunnel, my brother and I quickly followed close behind.
The pathway beyond the entrance narrowed into almost forcing us to be single-file. The walls were reinforced concrete but the floors were steel. There was a narrow channel in the center of the floor though its original purpose was lost to me. The ceiling was reinforced concrete and I could see the string of work lights that had once provided illumination for the maintenance workers. The air was incredibly stale, almost rotten. Meanwhile, the walls themselves gave off low groans every so often that echoed throughout the entire cavernous-like space.
As we moved forward, my trained eyes were constantly scanning the floor and walls for telltale signs of booby-traps. Sure enough, no less than ten feet from the entrance, I suddenly reached out and roughly grabbed Alma with my left hand. When she looked back up at me in complete shock and alarm, I motioned for her to look forward. As she did, she became aware of the tripwire that was inches from the surface of her nose. The pitch darkness and the shadow producing illumination provided by dancing flames in my wife's lantern had rendered the black piano wire damn near invisible unless one was looking for it.
The narrow confines of the hallway meant that it was anyone's guess what the tripwire was connected to. Alma whispered, "What do I do?"
I informed her with a calm tone, "Move forward…very slowly. Once you get past the wire, keep to the left wall. Be very careful here…I don't know how vibration sensitive the rig is." Ordinarily, what I had proposed was the worst case scenario for handling booby-traps. It was normally advised to fall back and wait for a bomb disposal team to move in. However, here, that was clearly not an option.
Alma carefully ducked beneath the wire and began to move along the left wall as I had instructed her. Following close behind, I managed to prevent setting off the rig. Seconds later, I saw the outline of a rigged double-barrel shotgun that was set up on a table that was placed in the center of the hallway mere feet from the tripwire. Relieved that it was just a shotgun, I called out to my brother, "Just a shotgun."
No sooner had I spoken those words before the shotgun loudly discharged as my brother boldly walked straight through the wire and towards the rigged weapon. The lackluster 12 gauge OO buckshot harmlessly bounced off his armored chest plate and he had quickly moved the entire rig aside to allow easier access to the rest of the hallway. As we moved forward, I became aware of a severe change in the mood. Intense sorrow and anguish was thick in the air. It was so thick, in fact, that I labored to breathe as my chest began to burn.
Approximately twenty yards later, we came upon one final door at the end of the hallway. There, at the base of the steel grey airtight door, I saw what I can only describe as religious and spiritual barriers that were meant to protect the inhabitants from evil. By this time, I had been able to guess what was waiting for us in the interior room of the maintenance area. Dare we disturb their resting place? We had no choice unfortunately. Alma used her psionic power to unlock the sealed door and, as with the entrance, a loud whistling gust of frigid air rushed past us when the door was opened. The feeling of intense sorrow and anguish increased dramatically now that the seal had been broken but we pressed on.
However, I was not prepared for the sight that greeted us. There, in long rectangular space, was a series of cots as if it was a ward in a hospital. The dust covered olive green cots were uniformly spaced and, in between the spaces, were personal belongings such as suitcases, children's toys, and diaries. The owners of said belongings were now silently resting on top of the cots. Old, young, rich, and poor, they all shared a tomb now.
Their bodies were in the postures that they had been in when the individual had originally expired. The sealed space had prevented microbial agents from attacking the corpses and, now, they were essentially mummies. To the right of the entrance was the remains of a Hong Kong soldier with his Type 95 assault rifle still firmly in his grip. Beyond him was an elderly man that was clearly not a commoner with his tailored suit and Rolex watch. As we moved forward between the two rows of cots, the scent of dry flesh hung in the air along with the sense of human loss.
Here, a young woman holding her frightened child who even in death gripped the cloth of his mother's shirt in an eternal seeking of comfort in a frightening time. There, an elderly couple who were still holding each other's hand even in death. Yet other there, a young man that was selfishly hording what little he had with him in a small suitcase that he held against his chest in a death grip. They were all strangers and yet they were not. Not unlike all human beings would you not say?
At the far end of the rows of cots, I came upon a faint glow. Upon further investigation, I found that the glow was coming from one of those old-fashion "glow worm" toys. The toy was on the ground next to the last cot in the row. The glow was barely enough to be seen even in pitch darkness but the stubborn toy held onto life despite the death surrounding it. On the cot, I saw the heartbreaking sight of a young girl who was no less than twelve years old in a pink dress. Her blonde hair was in a tangled mess and dirt was still evident on her shriveled cheeks. An orphan; all alone; no mommy or daddy to comfort her; only her glow worm toy for a friend.
The girl was curled up on her right side, and, given the thinner layer of dust on her corpse, she had somehow held out longer than the other individuals. No doubt she was accustomed to hardship and surviving under horrible conditions. In her right hand, she was holding a large notebook. Upon inspection, I found that she had using it as a diary. The first visible entry was dated nearly a month after the fall of Hong Kong to Akira's Forces.
I'm all alone now, diary.
The nice soldier man just went to sleep and never woke up. His gun would be so comforting if I knew how to use it. I liked him though. He was nice like I always dreamed my daddy would be. I wonder if…
Ssshhhh, diary. The scary men are outside in the tunnel again. You can hear their silly breathing and funny words. Shhh…if we don't make any noise, they will go away eventually.
They…yes…they are gone now, diary. I told you mister scaredy-cat. Anyway, now that I am all alone, I don't know what to do. I wish I had someone here to help me. The soldier man said that the other soldiers would be back someday. I heard that the main soldier people are 'special' and can hear people's thoughts and stuff. Maybe, if I just think really, really loud, they will hear me and come rescue me?
The next entry was a few days later. The handwriting was clearly done by a weakened hand.
Diary, I am so cold. So hungry. So alone. I keep imagining myself being warm in my bed in my family's house…smiling mommy and daddy…maybe even a stupid brother to pick on…but then I open my eyes…and I want to scream. It is dark now. The lights went off for some reason. I can hear scratching in the tunnel outside.
I'm so sorry, diary. I go sleep now. Be brave. Someday soldiers come back. Tired now. I sleep…forever this time. Goodbye…
Strangely, the next entry, which was also the last, was done in a much stronger hand. The entry was not dated but it clearly was not old.
Hello, diary. It has been a while has it not? It was so weird. I was floating in inky coldness but then something happened and I found myself back here. I saw my body. Like a raisin it is. It is kind of funny. However…they…are also here now too. They stare at me sometimes. They also scream so loudly whenever I try to leave.
The nice soldier man tries to help me but there is only the two of us. He wants to leave too but they will not let us. I am blushing writing this but the soldier man calls me his little one. I guess I remind him of his daughter or one of her friends.
He said that the soldiers are back! They came back, diary!
Oh, I see three of them now. They have found the entrance to our hideout. I like the big one. He seems big and strong but he is so nice on the inside. The other soldier man frightens me for some reason but I like him too. He is so hurt on the inside but he is still nice. Then, the girl with them…she is like me but very, very strong. She doesn't even have to focus to keep herself in a visible form.
Shh…diary. They are in the room now.
"Shh…mister. They will hear us." The girl's apparition whispered in my right ear. I nodded in confirmation as I looked around to see Alpha 1 and Alma standing on the other side of the ghostly form of the girl. The blonde child smiled brightly at me in a cheerful manner. I could not help but smile in response. She whispered, "My name is Lucy."
I replied in a whisper, "Nice to meet you Lucy. I'm Michael, his name is Alpha 1, and her name is Alma."
Before she could reply, the manifestation of the soldier appeared. I looked at him and he informed me, "Private Ano, sir." I nodded and he continued, "If I may, what are you three doing here?"
I informed him, "Trying to reach Akira's Command Bunker but the tunnel is overrun by the inhabitants of Hell and the blast door is sealed shut. Do you know where the manual release for the blast door is?"
Private Ano and Lucy both nodded in response. Then, Lucy, said, "We want to help but we cannot leave because the noise will wake them up and they will scream."
Confused, I asked, "They?"
Ano replied, "The other survivors…death did not suit them so well, sergeant." Turning back, I glanced at the motionless mummified remains of the other "survivors". The change in air circulation was being to rot the remains before my eyes. However, I noticed for the first time a low noise that I could not identify that was coming from them.
I turned back and assured the pair, "Don't worry about them. Help us open the door and we will get you out of here."
The girl and soldier looked at each other for a moment. Then, the soldier nodded at the child. Lucy turned back and nodded in agreement at my proposal. The pair turned and made their way to the far end of the interior room. We followed close behind as quietly as we could. Once we had reached the far end, Private Ano motioned to a steel plate that was projecting from the surface of the steel floor.
Alpha 1 reached down and silently removed the plate and set it aside. In the low light of the lantern, I could make out a small grey lever. My brother reached down and took ahold of the lever. I glanced up and saw Lucy pressing her hands against her ears. She had a worried expression but Ano placed both of his hands on her shoulders and began to rub them to comfort her. Letting out a grunt of exertion, my brother forced the nearly seized lever handle all the way down. A loud metal screech filled the air seconds later as the nearby blast door opened.
However, before I could brace myself, the loudest, most god-awful human wails of anger and pain filled the air with such intensity that the very room began to shake. Meanwhile, the snapping and cracking of dried bones joined in as the previously motionless mummified remains were now sitting upright with their arms failing about in the air above them like those annoying giant advertisement humanoids with the flailing arms. Their empty black eye sockets were locked on us as they continued their horrific screams. Only the rapidly decaying bodies of Lucy and Private Ano remained motionless as the disgusting display continued.
Taking aim with my assault rifle, I began to fire a series of five round bursts into the flailing corpses. As the rounds impacted the bodies, brown clouds began to emit from the impact sites as the dried flesh was pulverized by the supersonic projectiles. My brother joined in with his automatic shotgun and, soon, the bodies began to succumb to our combined firepower. Finally, moments later, the last corpse fell silent and we were all left to gather our nerves.
As I released my spent clip and then inserted a fresh magazine into my rifle, I commented, "Well that was…interesting." I turned and then motioned for everyone to follow me as I moved towards the exit. I certainly did not intend to stick around those bullet-riddled corpses any longer than it was necessary. Lucy let out a quick cheer as I heard her grab her diary and then follow close behind me.
Upon exiting the maintenance area, I turned and noticed that Private Ano and Lucy were still with us. Lucy quickly explained, "We…the gate to the afterlife is closed…"
Remembering what the plague doctor had said, I remarked, "Right…Revelations and all that..." I thought for a moment and then informed them, "I cannot guarantee your safety but you may follow us. Trust me, your chances of survival are a lot better if you stick with us." The two psychic imprints nodded in agreement. Shaking my head at how bizarre the situation was, I turned back around and then walked along next to Alma as she continued forward down the tunnel.