A/N: Just a pronunciation thing—It's "Guh-lee-a," not "Gah-lee-a." It's not supposed to sound anything like Dahlia. And thanks to all my readers; as always, reviews are appreciated, and this is a pretty actiony chapter, if I do say so myself.
Chapter Eleven
Jolting out of her unintentional slumber, the figure of a young blonde officer could be seen to glance around with an expression of obvious desperation etched upon her features, until her vision came to rest on the form of another woman, who lay with her weight slumped up against a rusty metal rendition of an ancient, fire-eaten dumpster, and whose tattered appearance and pale complexion suggested lifelessness; 'twas not the case however, as the officer soon discovered by way of touching her palm briefly to her friend's arm. No, death in this case was an imposter, and as the cop let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, something beyond the alleyway moved. Near as quickly as she had exhaled, the lungs demanded oxygen once again, and refused to release it once it had been sucked dry of its life-giving properties; something that looked to be a member of the canine ancestry was situated in a casual manner just beyond the end of the alley. Only able to see from its shoulders back, the deputy leaned cautiously outward to peer around the dumpster.
The horrifying excuse for a dog which sat idly in place would have made any non-professional shriek with surprise and fear; Cybil, however, having extensive training on what not to do in certain circumstances, ducked back behind the dumpster and out of view of the creature. Its misshapen head abruptly craned around in a snapping motion at her hasty retreat, and in the next instants a padding sound drifted through the air and around the end of the dumpster; Cybil's senses shifted to high alert mode, and she stared unblinkingly as something of crimson hue slithered its way around said dumpster—a dry, scabby tongue of nearly three feet in length, so long that it dragged upon the ground—followed by the form of an enormous canine nearly four feet at the shoulder, caked in half-singed skin and patches of coarse, raggedy fur, caked in crusty blood, and whose sloping spine gave it more of the appearance of a hyena than a dog. The cop froze as the cracked skin of its muzzle breathed into her face; where its eyes should have been, the flesh appeared to have been melted or burned solid, effectively blinding it. The tongue rose off the ground, laying itself against the leather boots, and sliding up her legs until it touched her stomach, and chest, and lastly her neck and face.
She moved naught but the violet eyes as the creature examined her, which swiveled about to witness Rose's form stirring in the classic signs of awakening; she could do nothing to stop her should she open her eyes to see the creature which currently had the slick gums of its mouth against the flesh of Cybil's face and was nearly making her vomit, its actions unimpeded thanks to the decaying tissue, which caused a lift in the lips in a permanent gesture of teeth-baring; after what seemed an eternity the blue of Rose's irises were to be viewed, she let out a shriek, to which the animal responded by way of a ferocious roar more alike that of a wildcat's than a dog's. It leapt backward in surprise, freeing Cybil, but before she could raise her pistol to put it out of its misery, Rose charged forward with a large slab of stone, slashing it across the tongue and dropping it on the creature's skull. A thud and a sloshing crunch were heard as the stone impacted the cranium and brought it to the ground, the force of which propelled the skull into an outward burst; brown, steaming brain matter suddenly drenched the cobblestone below; the section of the tongue having been severed from the main body thrashed about, refusing to die, until Rose at last retrieved the same stone—much to Cybil's shock—that was entirely covered with entrails, and smashed it upon the tongue, causing it to finally cease its movements.
She stood there for a long moment, just staring at her work; whether she was admiring of it, Cybil was uncertain, though she didn't think that was the case presently; the mother eventually broke from her apparent trance, shaking her head and allowing herself the delayed reaction of complete and utter panic to unveil itself. She flung herself against the brick side of the building and pounded half-heartedly and futilely upon it with one fist—the one on her injured arm—and continued to do so for a good minute, repeating indiscernible phrases until Cybil got to her feet and caught Rose's arm in mid-beat, spinning her around to face her, and successfully bringing her back down to earth. Or wherever they were.
"You're going to do more damage that way, Rose," she snapped sharply, releasing her almost as soon as Rose was fully pivoted, and stepping back, avoiding the body of the dog behind them. "Save your energy—I'm willing to bet you'll need it for whatever your next predicament is. And don't go running off like that again! You're just like your daughter."
"I was doing just fine until you nearly took my head off," Rose retorted smartly, stamping one dusty black heeled boot for effect.
"Oh, like I wanted to get my hand bitten while in the process of getting you out of the path of that…thing?"
Rose sighed resignedly, and held up her hands in a gesture of defeat. The bandage on her wrist likely could have done with a changing, but seeing as they weren't in a particularly safe area, as far as they could see, neither of them mentioned it. Instead an uncomfortable silence followed; they hadn't been arguing especially heatedly, but 'twas enough to leave both at a loss for the proper words and resulted in the quiet present there during those few moments. At last Rose shattered that silence into a billion tiny shards of glass with her overly determined and anxious manner of going about things; the tones which she vociferated in the next instant or so were calm and collected, despite her outer shell's appearance, and she started for the street, walking cautiously lest there be any more…surprises…and upon reaching the end of the alleyway, she turned back to make certain Cybil planned on following.
"Are you coming or not?"
The cop tipped her head back in an expression of frustration, but nevertheless trod up to stand before the woman, her gun held in a position which signaled its readiness to unleash a hail of bullets on anything that dared to threaten the two of them; Rose was briefly unable to see when the officer leaned out to gaze around the area of the surrounding street; two brief, short, and strikingly meaningful word was released into the air as she did so.
"Oh….shit."
Rose looked at her questioningly, and started forward, but Cybil threw out an arm to block her path; she was not quick enough to prevent the mother from catching a quick glimpse of the source of the deputy's cursing; Rose gasped and backed up quickly, shaking her head and muttering to herself. Cybil's eyes stayed locked onto the source, however, and she considered shooting, but thought better of it when she remembered she didn't have enough bullets to try emptying them into the skulls of the beasts which lay scattered across the landscape before them.
Seven, maybe eight of the same monstrosities as the one which Rose had just disposed of lay upon the ground, apparently sleeping, their dreadfully long red appendages lay twisted about on the ash-caked earth, only occasionally shifting their positions; when they did so, Cybil was able to see their scab encrusted surfaces crack and break even further; flakes of rotting tissue peeled off as the tongues ran along the ground, as if tasting it, floating into the air only to be drawn back to the hellhounds as if by static electricity; once near enough, the flakes clamped onto the skinless patches and bubbled ferociously for a moment before steaming and turning into black patches from which hair began to sprout almost instantaneously. As if the creatures possessed their own sort of recycling system, large clumps of hair already having been grown fell to the ground and turned to ash.
Cybil backed up and leaned against the side of the alley not obstructed by the presence of the dumpster, dropping her gun hand to her side and staring blankly at the ground for a long moment, no doubt considering just what she and Rose should do in order to make it out of the situation without any missing limbs; the memory came to her that the other canine had been blind—perhaps the same would be true for the others of its kind; she removed her weight from the wall again and looked out at the four-legged troops, noting that one of them was now on all fours, each bloody excuse for a paw planted firmly and squarely upon the ground. She watched with an aggravated, weak, and churning gut as the apparent sentinel retracted its meter-long outermost extremity into the depths of its putrid mouth; she half wondered if it wasn't the creature's esophagus flipped inside out; closing her eyes at the image formed in her head, she turned her face away for the briefest of moments, only to return to gazing at the animal who had forthwith turned its head in her direction, just as had the other before, only in this case 'twas an action worthy of much greater alarm—this canine could see her.
Her heart bounded into her throat and she sprung back, seeming glued to the wall, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, prevent hyper ventilation, and panic as well, from seeping into her very thinly formed bones. She cocked the pistol, ready should the beast find its way to she and Rose, and as she did so, a boisterous bray echoed and bounced off of the surrounding structures, searching until it at last found its way to and pierced the unwelcoming ears of the two woman. Rose dropped to her knees and clapped her hands over her ears in a manner similar to the way she had done both at home after opening her daughter's bedroom door, and as she had done in the Liberty before it had spun out of control; Cybil managed only to cover one ear, as the other was occupied by the soot-cloaked pistol, and within moments she had chanced another glimpse of the disease-ridden dogs' gathering. Each and every one of them were standing now; each and every one of them seemed to be staring straight at her, their repugnant tongues sliding and slurping against the ashen landscape; drops of frothy tar dribbled from their muzzles, descending downward in thick purple strings until they at last touched the ground and snapped, splattering about. The sentry let out another bellow, forelimbs lifting off the ground as it did so, the tongue swishing about wildly, as if it were a tail; Cybil at last came to the realization that 'twas only the sentry which was fully able to see, for all the others possessed the same flesh-sealed eyelids as had the one Rose had killed. At last she left her post at the wall and grabbed Rose by the upper arm, hauling her to her feet and speaking to her quickly.
"We're gonna have to make a run for it. Only one of them can see us—I'll take it out if it gets too close, but otherwise I'd rather not waste the bullets," the officer informed the mother in her typically authoritative tone, every so often checking behind them so as to make certain they weren't being distracted and ambushed.
Rose's eyelids fluttered as the howl broke through the air once more, and she flinched, but not to the point of losing her composure a second time. Her widened blue eyes landed on Cybil's briefly, as if she wasn't sure her friend was real, and then she strode forward and out into the street to better see what had them both so spooked—too far into the street. The hellhounds spotted her, somehow, and the guard let out a snarl which sounded so similar to that of a puma, it caused Cybil to falter in her dash for Rose, and she took an instant to glance in the direction of the sound. Once removed from her steadfast position, the cop made a mad grab for her friend, only to find that she had already bolted off; she was impossibly quick for having a hurt leg, Cybil reasoned, and as she fully exposed herself via the open street, several of the monstrosities broke into great, leaping gallops; their enormous forms pulled ever closer to her and their strides literally swallowed the ground beneath them; one leapt at her and the woman was forced to drop into a roll in order to evade its deathly sharp, talon-like claws.
She suddenly realized just what she had done. Unable to make it to her feet in time due to the slippery ash coating of the earth, the blonde was now a prime target for the two creatures whom hadn't made the leap at her before; one of them surged at her before she could stop it; two paws were slammed down upon her stomach and she was held immobile beneath its lumbering bulk, virtually incapable of breathing. Its claws slit through the thin material of her shirt, and she cried out when they sank into the soft skin beneath, soaking the front the shirt with a deep, nearly black scarlet. She didn't struggle, for fear of intensifying the wound, and sooner than she could have ever possibly deflected it, the colossal tongue-like limb lifted itself upward and struck out like a viper, boring into the area between her collar bone and left shoulder, miraculously missing her heart muscle. The scream of anguish that was emitted from her throat apparently spooked the animal, and it flinched, slicing part of its limb on her sheriff's badge, which in turn resulted in its ripping the tube-like appendage from the wound.
In the next instant, the brute let out a yelp, having been cracked on the side by a large brick; another's neck was snapped by way of an enormous metal pipe, and the third was pierced through the paw by the same pipe, effectively fastening it to the ground; the young blonde cop was literally dragged from the scene, through a doorway and into a room; the iron door was clamped shut and locked. The hands of her protector were removed, and Rose's face came into view; Cybil took no notice of the room into which she had been lugged until another voice besides that of Rose came about.
"You're very lucky to have had a friend here."
Cybil sat up, Rose crouched worriedly by her side, one hand on the cop's arm both for balance, and so that she might look at the wound, which was far more serious than anything she'd seen before that point. The officer's tones were suspicious, and this was plainly displayed in her response.
"By the looks of things I have more than one," she gasped, her shoulder and midsection paining her beyond belief. "That is of course you're one of those religious, witch-burning zealots. Who the hell are you?"
"Galia," the woman answered softly, looking quickly to Rose, who stared up at her with the same suspicion as had Cybil. "Lady Christabella's only spawn."
Cybil and Rose looked at each other simultaneously, reading one another's eyes as if each one was to provide a proper reply, but nothing came; the miners suddenly appeared behind Galia, blundering sticks in hand; one of them spoke, and by his voice, Rose recognized him to be Layton.
"Have you ever considered why the demon-child wanted her so badly?" he asked Cybil, who only stared back with lifeless eyes.
"She sinned in the same manner as did Dahlia," said the other miner. The two chose to remove their masks, revealing surprisingly youthful faces; Layton's hair was a deep ebony, and longer, giving him an almost feminine characteristic, whilst the other's was brown and scruffy. Both had green eyes, as did Galia. Cybil imprinted the faces into her memory, and Rose as well; she didn't know if she would ever need to remember in the future, but in case she did, she would be knowledgeable as to what they looked like.
"I was cast out," Galia broke in, looking at Rose, "In much of the same manner as was that demon-child. My mother told no one of my existence, and during the times I was repeatedly denied entry to her sacred church, I had gathered my own followers. We thrived whilst my mother's side slipped farther and farther into that Hell, finally falling entirely when you provided the demon-child with a way to enter the church. Her revenge was never directed at myself, for I had been subject to the same discrimination as she, hence why I survive today. She didn't know I'd salvaged others from the fate she intended to bestow upon all those but her mother and I, which is how these two survive." She gestured to the miners, who looked slightly uncomfortable at their late introduction.
"Are there others?" Rose inquired from her position at Cybil's side.
"Quite a few, actually," the unnamed miner replied.
"They're some in the upper stories of this library," Galia continued, glancing upward subconsciously. "The rest are scavenging, I'm sure. When the sirens announce the terror's return once more, this room will fill itself."
The woman's hand pushed open a second door behind her, revealing a mid-size expanse; dirtied carpet lined the floor, and shelves upon shelves of books towered to the ceiling some twenty feet above. At the far end could be seen a fireplace of monstrous proportions, though 'twas blocked off with a presumably weighty metal grate across its fire-pit. From the ceiling hung a great chandelier of rusted brass and diamond, although several sections appeared to have been either mangled by fire or damaged by human hands; its base took the appearance of a large hand with its palm against the roof, and the symbol on the church steeple etched into the brazen skin which lined the back of the hand. It was slightly disturbing, yet unendingly beautiful in its curiousness; neither Rose or the injured cop could seem to decipher its symbolic meaning however--if it had any.
Cybil lay back down a moment past, letting out a barely audible groan of pain as she did so, and Rose's attention was fully shifted back to her. She didn't know whether or not she could fully trust their acquaintances, but she decided that for the time being at least, she would have no other choice. She raised her eyes to Galia's but before she could voice a request, the woman had already spoken.
"There is a room on the far end of this gallery. You might find rest there." She looked at Cybil with narrowed eyes. "Her wounds will need tending to."
Rose cast her a probably undeserved glare, and stood up as Layton and the still un-introduced second miner made to lift the cop; Cybil was in no way trusting of them, however; she struck out with her good arm and clocked Layton on the leg with her pistol, snapping testily that she would walk, if only they would lead the way. He frowned noticeably at her, his eyes catching Galia's briefly; she only nodded, and turned to climb the three or four steps through the doorway and into the main area of the building. The miners joined her; Rose tried to help her friend to her feet, but was scolded in the same way as were the miners—minus the physical attack on the legs. She looked at the cop curiously, her sea-blue eyes shifting every so often to take in their surroundings as Cybil stood, and they followed after the others.
"I don't dare allow myself to trust them."
"They're all we've got right now Cybil."
"She's that lunatic's daughter. There's no way in Hell I'm trusting her."
Rose sighed, decided it best not to waste their energy on pointless arguments. They traveled between the towering shelves of books, and the young mother couldn't help but wonder just what stories those books held; what information she might gain by reading them; whether they could help explain her daughter's vicious ailment. The town's history was likely to be found buried deep within the yellowing pages of those texts, their written words explaining all-too-thoroughly the answers to the questions she had been longing to speak aloud and receive satisfaction when their mysteries were correlated and solved. Oh, she did indeed miss her daughter so, but her time here was to save her Sharon from the suffering which had been lurking in the depths of her small body for far too long. As had become the norm, her musings were cut short by their arrival at the room which Galia had spoken of and apparently offered to them.
The door was opened to unveil a sort of office, a fireplace in one corner and a desk in the other; a twin bed was placed haphazardly against one wall, its frame crooked and the springs beneath literally rusting away; a small couch was placed forward to the fireplace, its cushions warped and the material 'twas composed of had singe marks in it. It was a rather ugly shade of green, and the remainder of the study followed much of the same basic color scheme; the room was not at all pleasant to be in, but at least it was safe from the darkness—or so Galia had said.
"If you need any assistance, please just ask," the woman in the white dress said calmly, her gaze aimed pointedly at the wound on Cybil's shoulder. "You should both try for some additional rest…I daresay what little you have already received was nothing of what you needed, and still need."
Neither of the women chose to question as to just how she knew they had slept—it was rather unimportant, in the grand scheme of things. The miners flanked Galia as she turned to leave, her figure disappearing into the rows of books, and leaving Rose and Cybil alone. Rose noted that while she had offered aide, should they need it, Galia had failed to inform them as to just where she would be, whether 'twas inside the building or out; she made the quick decision not to worry over it, for she was certain that between she and Cybil's minds, they would need no further assistance. She rounded to face her friend, but saw that she had already made her way over to the couch and had lain down, though not after ensuring the safety was once again in place on her pistol. Rose closed the door, making her way over to sit on the end of the couch closest to the cop's head. She looked down at her to see her eyes were closed, not in slumber, but in weariness; when they opened, they widened in surprise at Rose's presence, but relaxed an instant later, presumably having decided there were no giant hounds from Hell in the vicinity.
"Okay," Rose began, her entrails contracting as she caught a particularly clear glimpse of the other woman's injuries. "Shoulder or stomach first?"