Chapter 15: The Relentless Killer
Alyssa didn't waste an instant. She yanked the glass bottle from her belt, pulled off the cap and flung the sparkling water at the undead killer with all her might.
The evil being recoiled with a coarse holler and cries of "hot!" as coils of steam rose from his body like mist. Not sticking around for him to recover, Alyssa turned and started to run.
She didn't get very far. She reached the end of the long workbench before she realized that her attacker had backed away to a spot between the two sets of doorways, blocking both of her possible escape routes.
Ready to battle her way through, Alyssa scanned the bench for anything she could use as a weapon, something she could force her way by with. Her eye fell on the chemical bottle she had bumped earlier.
She wasn't sure it would do any good against his protective clothing, but she grabbed the bottle and spun around, poised to throw it. The inhuman being had recovered and was approaching her again, laughing at the object in her hand. Alyssa hurled it at him with a grunt, aiming for his head in the hopes that the impact would daze him long enough for her to run by.
Still laughing, the Subordinate swiped at the bottle, causing a thin spray of acid to leak out as the metal rod he held struck the bottle. The glass shattered and the chemical spewed out into the air. As it mixed with the acid, the flammable liquid burst into flames. The killer jerked back with a startled yell, but it was too late; the flaming droplets pelted him like deadly rain, igniting his clothes as they fell and made contact.
Alyssa waited until he had staggered back and slumped against the far wall before darting past and racing out the door she had originally come in through. Outside, she flew over the narrow walkway and down the second flight of stairs. When she reached the bottom she stumbled a little and bumped into a chainlink fence. A drainage ditch was on the other side, but she didn't pause to look at it beyond to see if there was any way she could escape across it. There didn't appear to be, so she pushed away from the fence, turned around and kept on running.
She only made it a few feet more before she had to stop; she had reached a dead end. The side of the stairs she had just descended was to her left, and to her right was another brick wall, with three extremely large ventilation fans built into it. Directly ahead of her was some kind of control mechanism with pipes connected to it; the building she was standing next to was a probably a pump station, or a power plant. There was a large bolt sticking out of the mechanism.
Her hand on her belt, she slowly turned around, eyes pointing up at the top of the stairs fearfully. But the area was quiet except for the sound of the rain. The Subordinate had given up his chase...for now.
Moving away from the fans, Alyssa walked slowly back to the base of the stairs, stepping quietly in case the undead killer was in earshot. Whether he was or wasn't, she knew she had no choice but to head back the way she came. As she rested her hand on the thin metal railing, something moving in the water on the other side of the fence caught her eye.
There was a sewer grate at the end of the ditch. The water, swelled from the rain, was rushing through it rapidly, draining somewhere underground. Something was caught on the grate, something that flapped like a flag in the wind.
Dorothy's shawl, she realized.
If there was anything here that would calm the old woman's soul, that had to be it. But Alyssa couldn't get to it from here. She could probably climb the fence, but the water was rushing awfully fast and no doubt it was freezing cold. If the temperature didn't shock her motionless, the force of it would probably knock her clear off her feet, and either case was a bad idea when an insane, undead murderer was on her tail. She had to find another way.
Alyssa turned away from the fence and looked up at the walkway above her head again. Everything was still quiet, so she went back to the contraption attached to the wall, and to the spinning fans. She had been ready to dismiss them as unimportant, but her Rooder instincts were pricking up again, much like the time they had told her that crossing the beams above the music stage was imperative to completing her goal. She went and stood in front of the fan that was spinning the slowest and saw a flash of red in the darkness behind the blades.
Curious, she crouched and squinted into the cavernous space behind the fan. The blades kept spinning around and around, making the spot of red seem like it was blinking as they passed in front of it. It finally dawned on her; it was some sort of light, which meant there had to be another room behind the fans. The ventilation shaft must pass clear through the wall.
It was as good an exit as any, she decided, since the only road out of the area was blocked. She straightened and looked at the prominent bolt again. Turning it would probably stop the fans, which was a must if she was going to go crawling between the blades, but there was no way she was going to be able to turn it with just her fingers. She was going to need a tool.
Hand still on her belt, she turned and started back up the dank steps. Her eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, her ears straining for sounds of movement over the rain, but there was no sign of a lurking killer. Alyssa hurried back into Albert's workshop.
The inside looked like it had the first time she saw it; dark and in disarray. The two wandering souls were nowhere to be seen. Alyssa checked around the workbench and on the floor, but she only saw hammers of different sizes, boxes of nails and screws, and a large assortment of carving tools. "What I need right now is a wrench," Alyssa muttered.
She looked around a moment more before her eye fell on the set of double doors across from her. They were closed again, but when she gave them a tug, they opened easily. The adjoining room was dark and musty smelling, and there were barrels and spare tires on the cement floor. Alyssa checked every crack and crevice eagerly, but instead of a wrench, she found a tiny silver key tucked away on a dusty shelf.
"No help there," she sighed, eyeing the shiny object. There weren't any more locked doors around—but there was the toolbox she saw in Albert's room, she suddenly remembered. Moving swiftly but quietly, she pocketed the key, went back outside and down the stairs to the back door of the house.
Keeping her eyes peeled and her ears open, she slunk down the hallway past Dorothy's prison and headed towards the stairs that led to Albert's room. As she neared the corner, she heard a sharp clicking sound.
It was a very brief warning, but it was enough to make her Rooder instincts order her to throw herself back, so hard she tripped and fell on her rear. A stream of acid swished through the air an inch from where she just stood.
Alyssa scrambled back as the deadly liquid splashed to the floor and splattered the walls, making the old wood and worn wallpaper sizzle and crackle like it was on fire. Another set of clicks sounded, followed by a chuckle as the Subordinate rounded the corner, shaking the slender tube in his hand. His voice was strange and unpleasant to hear; it wasn't low and raspy like the voice of Morris, but it came muffled and distorted as it passed through the mask he wore. She didn't know what was more disturbing—the distortion, or knowing that without it he would sound completely human and normal.
He chuckled again. "Scared you, didn't I?"
Alyssa didn't reply as she jerked up to one knee and unleashed her own spray of deadly fluid. She bolted to her feet and took off running in the direction of the dining room as shouts of pain echoed behind her. She burst through the dining room doors and made a beeline for the phony fireplace, knowing that he would never be able to follow with all his clunky equipment. She crawled through the ashes and mounted the ladder in record time.
In Albert's room, she wasted no time locating and unlocking the red toolbox. As she sifted through the stack of tools inside she found herself wondering, with a touch of wry humor despite her grave situation, if her next journey through time would also include a tool hunt. Not that she particularly wanted to do this again.
With one eye on the door, she fumbled around for a minute more before unearthing a hexagonal wrench. It was a little heavy, but she managed to tuck it snugly into her inner jacket pocket before slinking out into the hall. Hoping that her pursuer was still lurking around in the dining room, she hurried downstairs and out the back door again.
Alyssa wished the rain would stop already. It wasn't raining as hard as before, but it was enough to soften the sound of her feet as she moved across the saturated ground. If she was having trouble hearing her own footsteps she doubted she would hear anyone sneaking up on her, a thought that did nothing to comfort her as she began mounting the stairs.
It wasn't until she was almost to the landing did she remember something, something so important she could have kicked herself for forgetting it. Subordinates were able to teleport around at will. It didn't matter if she had left him behind—he could pop out in front of her at any time.
As if on cue, the door to the storage room swung open. Not with a thunderous bang, like usual, but with a slow, deliberate speed. It was in this same manner that Haigh came swaggering into view, clicking his weapon as he approached. He didn't need to try and rush to catch her off guard; he had caught her in a position she couldn't get out of without getting hurt, and he knew it.
"You could always jump," the Subordinate suggested as he moved to the top of the stairs, effectively blocking her path.
Alyssa had already been thinking that. The only way out now was to either jump back down the stairs or over the side, and either choice carried a high risk of breaking something. But if she didn't move quickly, she was going to get a healthy dose of acid.
"Or," Haigh added, in the same casual manner, "you could just come along now and we can end this silly pursuit. All the same to me, really. Though I'll probably scorch you a bit along the way, just for fun."
He spoke as if he were inviting her to take a stroll down the beach, and playfully warning her that he might toss sand at her, or push her into the water.
Alyssa unconsciously squeezed the railing as her heart and mind raced. She hadn't forgotten that Morris also wanted to take her somewhere, but she couldn't begin to imagine where or why. And then it hit her; the Subordinates needed her for something, and that something was going to happen when she turned fifteen. This was exactly what her mother had been trying to protect her from.
A great way to repay her efforts, walking straight into danger like this. Alyssa knew she had no chance of attacking him. He already had his weapon drawn and pointed squarely at her, and her own was still tucked under her belt. Jumping was out of the question—so she did the only other thing she could think of. She ran, and ran wildly, practically throwing herself back down the stairs in the hopes that her speed and erratic movements would keep him from making a clear shot.
It almost worked, but just as her feet hit ground again, Alyssa felt a pain in her right shoulder. It was dull at first, and for a moment she thought she must have banged it against the railing, but then the pain deepened, as if tiny flames were searing across her skin. A strangled cry escaped through her tightly clenched teeth as a feeling of fire and needles spread over her shoulder and partway down her arm. She didn't stop to look at the damage as her feet pounded madly on the wet ground, but she thought she smelled something like burning flesh over the damp smell of the rain.
Mind fogged by pain and fear, Alyssa's eyes focused on a single thing as the sound of crazed laughter sounded overhead—or was it behind her?—the door directly in front of her. Injured arm tucked to her chest like a crooked wing, she stretched out her other hand and grappled for the knob, slick from the rain, and pushed. She continued to push for several wasted seconds before she figured out that the door pulled open. With a desperate glance over her shoulder—the killer had descended the stairs and was closing in rapidly behind her—she yanked the door open and threw herself inside the house.
Only she wasn't in the house. In her fear and haste she had run straight into the outhouse instead. Alyssa stared blankly at the dirty toilet for half a moment before letting out a breath of defeat—and aggravation.
You stupid girl...
She wasn't sure who was more annoyed—her Rooder self, or her normal, everyday self, who once prided herself on being clear-headed and sensible.
There was nothing sensible about the position she had just placed herself in. There was no way out except the way she came in, and the door was already vibrating behind her back as the killer pounded on it.
"Come on out," he cried jovially. He laughed insanely between pounds, sounding like he was quite enjoying himself.
If they made headlines about this sort of thing, she could just imagine how this one would look: 'Rooder Captured in Bathroom.' The warrior women who came before her were probably shaking their heads in disgust that very moment.
No. She wasn't going to give up. She was just going to have to run, and run hard. He would probably tackle her, or spray her good as she tried to get by, but maybe she could, somehow, get her own weapon out and...
There was no time to think about it. The old, weather-beaten door was splintering under the force of the assault—it sounded like he was kicking now—and if she was going to act, it had to be now. Bracing herself, she reached for the knob with her left hand and pressed her right hand against the shuddering wood. She took a deep breath, gathered every last bit of strength she had left and shoved through the door with all her might.
She vaguely heard a startled yell and a crashing behind her as she ran with all she had towards the stairs. It wasn't until she was half-way up the steps did she realize that the night had gone quiet all of a sudden—and that she wasn't being pursued.
One hand warily on her belt, Alyssa leaned over the railing a little and looked down at the open outhouse door. She had smashed it open so hard it had pulled loose from the upper hinge. It hung open awkwardly for a moment more, then slowly creaked away from the wall, wobbling as it went.
Alyssa felt a jolt; the undead killer had been hiding behind the door. But as the it moved away, he suddenly slumped forward and landed with a wet thump on the ground, where he lay motionless with his arms and legs twisted at awkward angles.
She had knocked him clean out. Alyssa was so relieved she nearly started laughing wildly—but she squashed down the moment of hysteria and hurried up the stairs. She knew she had to keep moving; this lucky streak she seemed to be having today was going to run out eventually. And so far as she could see, there weren't any places to hide once she used up all the ways to turn the surroundings against him.
"I wish I knew how to summon that bow at will," she muttered aloud, thinking of her grandfather's notes. If she had that, this would all be over in a hurry.
But no, all she had was her little bottle of water, and that only slowed her stalker for a moment. She quickened her pace and hurried down to the fans.
The rusty bolt turned with a loud screech when she urged it with the wrench, but it turned. For a moment she thought she had been wrong and it didn't operate the fans after all, but the one closest to her was beginning to slow. The time between its rotation grew longer and longer, and it swished through the air as soft as a whisper. As she waited for it to stop completely, Alyssa set the wrench on the ground and took a moment to examine her shoulder.
It wasn't as bad as she had been imagining. If he had used the same acid as he had on the Rands, she would have been burned clear down to the bone. But as she tugged at the fresh hole in her sleeve, all she saw was a bright red spot and a little blistering, like she had rested her shoulder on a hot stove. It still hurt terribly and it bothered her to move that arm, but it would eventually heal.
Relieved, Alyssa turned her attention back to the fan. It looked like it could continue to spin at about two rotations per minute for a good while longer, and she didn't have time to wait for that. She carefully brought the heavy blades to a halt with her foot, then dropped to her hands and knees and began to crawl. Remembering the killer's habits, she listened both behind and ahead of her as she went down the long narrow tube, but it was hard to hear anything over the noise her hands and shoes made on the corrugated metal.
On the other side of the mock-tunnel was a wide, dirty room that smelled of grime and oil. The walls were metal and the floors were cement, and there was a large machine in the middle of the room, most likely a generator. The red light she had seen from outside was above a door on the northern wall.
A door that had just opened. Alyssa felt her body draw with tension, but she was more annoyed than afraid; didn't these guys take a break even for a second?
Obviously not. He was barreling towards her, his bulky body moving jerkily in his haste. He was quick, but Alyssa imagined he would be even quicker if the heavy smock that protected his legs wasn't in his way. Taking advantage of the open space, she flung a stream of water his way before dodging to the side, putting the generator between them. As his angry and pain-filled screams filled the air, she ran around to the side and raced for the open door.
She slammed it behind her, wanting to give herself all the time she could, but she was at a disadvantage. She was in an unknown area and she had no idea if there would be any way to slow him down up ahead, or somewhere she could hide for the time being.
There wasn't time to worry about it, and she ran down a set of brick steps—and almost slipped and fell clear over the edge of the brief walkway at the bottom, where the excess water from the storm was rushing by in a little channel.
Alyssa quickly backed away and looked around for a way across. There was a small footbridge to her right and she ran across it—only to find herself faced with another chainlink fence. There was a gate in front of her, but it was locked, and the fence extended to the ceiling, making it impossible to climb over. Behind her she heard the sound of the door at the top of the stairs opening.
Alyssa spun around, ready to throw herself into the channel if she had to, but her eye fell on a better escape route—another door tucked next to the stairway. Alyssa had no way of knowing if it was any safer in there than it was out here, but she hadn't any other options. With a glance at the undead killer on the stairs, she ran through the unknown door, shuddering as the sound of acid hitting the stoney ground behind her reached her ears.
Inside the new room, Alyssa's eyes darted around wildly, searching for a way to defend herself. There was a row of lockers directly in front of her; a table to her left, with the remains of a leftover meal on it; a desk with a pile of books off to the side; a shelf unit and a worn sink in the corner; an electrical box with a switch on the far wall. The dingy light hanging above her head kept flickering.
Alyssa let out a frightened squeak as the door was shoved open, pushing her forward roughly as it struck her in the back. She jerked around and backed away as the killer advanced toward her, laughing his insane laugh. "No escape for you this time," he declared, sounding positively delighted by the concept.
His bold words triggered a thought that hadn't occurred to her before—he knew this area. He had lived here before his death and he had probably studied it carefully afterward as he looked for his next victim. There were only a limited amount of places she could go and he knew where all of them were. Outrunning him or hiding from him was impossible; her only hope was to evade him for as long as she could.
As he continued to draw nearer while she pressed her back against the cold brick wall, she wondered her chances had finally run out.
Haigh was laughing again and shaking his weapon. He was probably going to douse her good to immobilize her, so she wouldn't be any trouble while he dragged her away to wherever he planned to take her. His feet sloshed on the floor as he continued to approach.
Sloshed? Alyssa tore her eyes from her impending doom and looked down. There was water on the floor, leaking in through cracks in the walls. It trickled along like little streams across the cement, pooling around the killer's feet. Alyssa stared hard in the dim light; there was some kind of black cord on the ground. It looked like it had been cut.
Alyssa looked up at the lever near her head; could it possibly...?
It seemed too much to hope for, but she reached up and tried to push the lever. It was pointing downwards so she knew she had to push it up to turn it on—unless it as already on and the power had shorted out—but it was just out of her reach. In desperation she gave a jump and the switch popped up with a click.
The cord jumped and sparked to life like a burst of blue flame. Showers of sparks popped into the air like someone had set off a box of fireworks.
Haigh didn't have a chance to scream. His body jerked back as forks of blue light coursed through him with an ear-popping crackle. Alyssa shrunk against the wall and shielded her eyes as the vibrant flashing continued, until Haigh teetered back and fell to the floor with a dull thump. Sparks of electricity continued to dance across his prone form a moment longer and then all was still.
Alyssa hesitated a moment more before leaping over the body and rushing out of the room. Outside, she looked up and down the channel for a way out. Past the little bridge was a crumbling set of stairs that led down to a muddy patch of earth just above the water. There was nothing beyond that—except a narrow ledge running along the wall.
Crossing it was risky and unnecessary business—if she hadn't known that there was a grate at the end of the channel. A grate with a shawl stuck to it. Alyssa was tired and her sore body was asking for a rest, but she pushed her back against the wall and started sidling along the ledge. It was a slow process and she kept casting nervous glances at the steps, but Haigh didn't appear.
After what felt like an hour, Alyssa reached a wider area she could stand on normally. Her weary legs begged for her to take a breather, but she stood on her toes and reached up to the grate above her head. The water pouring through it was so cold her hand felt like it had been struck, but she felt around until she grasped something soft. She gave a tug and Dorothy's shawl pulled free.
It was soaked and dirty and Alyssa could only hope it would be enough. She gave it an absent shake before tucking it into her skirt pocket, which was soaked already anyway. The ledge she was standing on passed under the grate and connected to the other side of the channel. Instead of being the size of her foot, the walkway here was several feet wide, and the chainlink fence ran between her and the icy water as she made her way back to the locked gate. As she neared it she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
She couldn't hear a thing over the roar of the water, but she instinctively spun around. Haigh was climbing out of the channel onto the walkway, like a sea-beast oozing onto land.
Oh no you don't, thought Alyssa. Not this time.
She waited until he was in range before splashing him with holy water. While he bellowed at the top of his lungs, she tugged the lock open and ran through the gate. She made it across the bridge, up the stairs and back into the generator room before the undead killer caught up with her.
"You can't get away from me, little girl," Haigh yelled as he lunged for her.
"Yes I can," Alyssa shot back as she knocked a row of metal rods that were leaning against the wall over. Haigh leaped back as they clattered and rolled at his feet. "I can do better than that," she added fearlessly. "If you don't leave me alone this very second, I'll stop you for good."
She knew the moment had come. Just like Morris, she had found something that would bring peace to his source of power, eliminating it on him. He would kill her to stop that from happening.
"You're going to die anyway," the Subordinate said, laughing as always as he kicked the rods aside. "You'll just be dying a little sooner than planned."