-CHAPTER FIVE-

-2D-

I don't think I'll ever have Murdoc's way with words. Most of the time, I consider that a good thing. I mean, half the time he opens his mouth it's to say something mean and nasty. (Unless he's talking about himself. Then he's all candy floss and lollipops until somebody tries to change the subject.) If he's not saying something soul-killing and he's not talking about himself, chances are he's talking about one of his other favorite topics: fame, drugs, or sex. The thing is, even when he's being a crusty arse, he's always got something to say.

Me, I had no idea what to say to Noodle after she told me about all of the awful things she'd been seeing. I wanted to say something to make her feel better—but what do you say to comfort someone who's just told you they're being haunted by apparitions so horrible they would make even zombie master George Romero piss himself?

I wanted to ask her, Are you sure you're all right? How long has this been going on? Are there really FIFTEEN of those things? What if there are more? Where did they come from? What do they want? The words were there, swirling around in my head like a pack of puppies in a shop window going "pick me, pick me, pick meeee!"But somehow, none of those seemed right, either.

I even caught myself wondering what Murdoc would say. All I came up with there was his pebbles-in-the-chest voice in my head going, "Bugger if I know, face ache." Guess that means even he would have drawn a blank.

I was still fumbling over what to say when the lights went out. You know how sometimes you'll get a couple of warning flickers or a funny little electrical buzzing sound before that happens? None of that happened for us. One second it was light. The next second, pop! Pitch black.

I did what anybody would have done if they were in my shoes: jumped about three feet straight up in the air and screamed like a scared little schoolgirl. I don't know if Noodle jumped, too. It was so dark I couldn't even see her standing right there in front of me. Besides that, my heart was doing this painful scared rabbit kick against my chest at the idea of us being stuck in the dark in Kong with a bunch of monsters out to get us. It's kind of hard to pay attention to anything else when you're worried that your heart is about to explode.

When my heart slowed down to a slightly less heart attack-inducing rhythm, I croaked, "All right there, Noods?"

She answered back, calm as ever: "Yes, I am fine."

"Good." I let out a laugh that sounded like a croaking toad and thought, Man…she wakes up early, she can work the coffee pot, she's not afraid of the dark…sometimes I think she's more grown-up than I'll ever be.

I was just getting calm enough to think about apologizing to Noodle for screaming in her face like a prat when she sucked in a sharp, hissing breath through her teeth. Just like that, my heart was back in my throat and ticking like a strobe light. She said something in a choked whisper. It took me a second to realize it was my name.

"W-what?"

She didn't answer. I could hear her fumbling around in the dark, like she was looking for something.

I shivered. The cold sweat running down my back felt too much like little ghost fingers for comfort. "Noodle, what is it?"

Her breath was coming in short, scared little gasps. There was a sound of hands scrabbling along the wall, and then a click—the button for the lift. She was calling the lift.

"Noodle!"

"2D," she whispered. "They're here."

"Who's here?" I don't know why I said that. It's not like I didn't know what she meant. I think I was so scared I didn't know what I was saying. Or maybe I was hoping she would pick up on the Poltergeist reference and say "The TV people."

She didn't say that, though. In fact, she didn't say anything at all. Somehow, her scared panting was worse than anything she could have said.

I realized then that the hallway was freezing. If the lights had been on I probably would have been able to see my breath. There was also this godawful stink that was nothing like the smell of the landfill outside. This was a rot smell. Like road kill baking on the highway.

I hugged my arms up over my chest and tried not to think about what the cold and the stink could mean. At that point, I was ready to close my eyes, curl up in a ball on the ground and play a nice round of "If-I-can't-see-it-it-can't-see-me."

That was when the lift doors opened. Noodle didn't waste a second. She dove inside with a cool little tuck and roll maneuver the second they were open wide enough for her to fit. I was so screwed up I probably would have just stood there admiring her action movie-worthy skills if she hadn't reached out and dragged me inside after her. (Really, I remember thinking, Well, if I tried that I'd break my neck. She should be a stunt double or something.)

I turned around to look back out at the dark corridor. Even on a good day, the lights in the lift aren't very bright. Running on the backup generator, they were about as good as a flashlight on dying batteries. It was still enough for me to see something hobbling towards us.

I caught a flash of blue-gray skin. A leg missing a foot. A ring of bruised, black flesh around a twisted neck. Then the doors slid shut and it was just me and Noodle staring at each other with our eyes as big around as tires.

It seems like we stood there like that for a long time. It was probably only a couple of seconds, but it seemed liked years before I managed to squeak, "So…what are we going to do now?"

She blinked. She'd gotten sickish gray patches under her eyes, but the color started to come back as she said, "The lift is the only thing that runs on the backup generator. We need to turn the other lights back on manually."

"How do we do that?"

"We need to go to the fuse box."

"Where's that?"

"I think it's in the car park."

I chewed my lip. I'd kind of been hoping she would say something like, "Why, it's right here in the lift, 2D, and all you have to do to fix it is blow it a kiss."

"W-what if we run into another of those…." I stopped there. I really didn't know what to call the thing I'd seen scuffling towards us in the corridor. Monster? Zombie? Scary McScary demon from hell?

Noodle seemed to get what I meant anyways. "Murdoc and Russel are down there. Maybe we will see them instead." She punched the button for the ground floor and down we went.

I was half-expecting to see a crowd of those awful things to be waiting for us when the lift doors opened. (That's always how it happens in the movies. The soon-to-be-dead sorority girl thinks she's escaped the zombie or the chainsaw-wielding psycho only to round a corner and SLASH! CRASH! She's dead.) I was very happy to see an empty corridor instead. (I guess that sort of thing only happens to sorority girls.)

We crept off the lift. The doors slid shut behind us, leaving us in pitch black. I really wanted to just turn around and get back on the lift. You know, just to make sure there wasn't a fuse box in there that needed a kiss. Instead, I clamped my hands onto Noodle's shoulders and the two of us started inching down the dark hall. Maybe it's because we were so quiet, or maybe we just got lucky, but we made it to the end of the corridor without bumping into anything nasty.

I'd been thinking that the car park would be as dark as the corridor. It wasn't. I guess that shouldn't have been so surprising, since that whole morning was pretty much one big pile of unexpected with a twist of nightmare fuel for good measure. Still, it was a nice surprise to see Murdoc's Winnebago all lit up like a Christmas tree. A debauched Christmas tree with a Satanist living inside it, but for Kong, that's really not so bad.

With all the light from the Winnebago, I was sure that Noodle wouldn't have any trouble seeing to fix the fuse box. (Yes, Noodle. If I can't even work a coffee machine properly do you really think I would know what to do about a busted fuse box?) I'm sure she wouldn't have had any trouble—if we had made it to the fuse box, that is.

We were about halfway across the car park when Noodle stopped walking. She didn't say anything, but I still had my death grip on her shoulders and the way her muscles went tense was enough to tell me that there was something I probably didn't want to see somewhere very close by.

I didn't want to look.

I really, really didn't want to look.

I tried not to look.

I looked.

There were three of them. I'd thought nothing could be worse than seeing one of those things, but I was wrong. Seeing three was worse. So, so much worse. At least with one you knew where all the messed up limbs ended. With three standing in a huddle along the far wall I couldn't even tell which broken leg and which twisted arm belonged to which.

I wanted to stop looking, but something about the hurky-jerky way they were moving towards us made it hard to tear my eyes away. I opened my mouth to scream. The only thing that came out was a wheezing noise that sounded a lot like somebody had punched me in the gut.

Noodle backed away from the approaching monstrosities until she bumped into me. I stumbled and took a couple of shaky steps back, too. With my legs about as steady as a half-set pudding, I was moving just as jerkily as the things that were coming towards us.

There was a shuffling noise; a funny scraping sound like a wet bag of cement dragging over concrete—two more of them, coming at us from behind. I have no idea how they managed to get around behind us so fast. I wasn't too worried about how they got there, though. The only thing that I was really thinking about right then was that the only way for us to get to the door that led back to the corridor or the door that led to my room next to it would have been to go right through them. (Slash! Crash! We're dead.)

We couldn't go forward. We couldn't go back. There was only one place for us to go, and it was almost as bad as the things that were jerking along after us. With Noodle a couple of steps ahead of me, I started running for Murdoc's lit-up Winnebago as fast as my numb, half-set pudding legs would go.

-Murdoc-

My morning just kept getting better and better. When I first woke up, all I'd had to worry about was shutting 2D up before his obnoxious screaming made my hangover any worse. In less than twenty minutes, I'd had to contend with a ruined demo tape (which had had some usable material on it, in spite of the fact that 99 percent of it was utter shit), a mentally traumatized lead guitarist, a power outage, and a sudden infestation of creatures most people would probably claim crawled straight out of the fires of hell. (Of course, I knew better than that. Having been to hell from time to time, I can safely say that there was nothing quite like that down there.) In the midst of all of that, it's no wonder that my bitch of a hangover had gone about twenty shades worse.

I was well aware of the fact that I had to deal with the ruined tape, the traumatized guitarist, the black out, and the twisted creatures from Satan knows where, but with my head throbbing like an egg about to crack I was in no condition to handle any of it. I was so bad off I would have nicked a couple of 2D's mind numbing painkillers if I'd have known where the stupid idiot kept them. As it was, I had to settle with a handful of expired aspirin from an ancient bottle stashed in my Winne.

Russel frowned as I shook the pills out of the bottle and said, "You know, you shouldn't take aspirin for a hangover, Muds."

I glared at him. I have no idea what compelled him to follow me into the Winne when we ran away from the twitching monstrosities in the instrument room. (To be perfectly frank, I have no idea how he managed to fit through the door.) "I will take whatever the damn hell I please and if you have a problem with that you're free to—"

A frantic pounding on the Winnebago's door drowned out the word "leave."

I jumped, smacked my head on the toilet unit's low ceiling, and scattered my handful of pills all over the floor. Russel didn't jump—a lucky thing, because if he had he probably would have tipped the whole damn trailer. Instead, much to my horror, he started forward to open the door.

I stumbled out of the toilet as quickly as I could and parked myself between him and the door. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" I hissed. "Planning to let those things in here for a party?"

"It's D and Noodle, man."

"I know that," I snarled. (Because there was no way that I, Murdoc Faust Niccals, sex god, bass slayer, and let's not forget mastermind behind the world's greatest band ever, was rattled enough to mistake my own guitarist and lead singer for flesh hungry abominations out to defile my admittedly incredible body and swallow my Satan-stained soul. Absolutely not.)

"Then what the hell is your problem?"

I shrugged. "Well, something out there is making them scream, isn't it? Now, I'm asking you, do you really want it in here with—umf!" I was cut off by one of Russel's ham-sized arms connecting with my face hard enough to knock me off my feet.

When the door flew open, Noodle was kind enough to notice me lying half concussed on the floor and jump over me. Dullard—ever so predictable dullard—did nothing of the sort. We ended up in a tangle, him jamming his elbow into my kidney and screaming, "Close the door, close the door!" in my face. His hands were scrabbling, probably trying to find the ground so he could stand up, but the stupid bugger was so hysterical he didn't seem to realize that he was slapping my face and shoulders instead. He even managed to land a hit to my mouth that split my lip wide open.

That was certainly enough to shake me out of my concussed stupor. "Damn it, 2D!" I snapped, and gave him a push that sent him flying. As soon as he landed on the ground, he rolled over to do a ridiculous backwards, belly-up crawl away from the door until he was pressed up against the wall opposite.

I stood up, poked at my lip with my tongue, and tasted copper. Still bleeding, I thought. 2D, you stupid bastard. I'm going to end up with one of those ugly scabs on my lip that looks like a big, black beetle poking out your mouth. Before I could start thinking about how I was going to get my revenge on him for ruining my perfect visage, Noodle tugged on my arm and whispered, "Murdoc, look."

If it had been anybody else at any other time under any other circumstances that would not have been enough to save 2D from the kick in the ribs I'd been planning to deliver to him. But this was my steady as a rock guitarist sounding scared enough to burst into tears in a dark and aberration-infested Kong. Even in my pukey, hungover, brain throbbing state, I knew that I couldn't ignore whatever it was that she was afraid of if I planned on getting out of the situation alive, so I decided to leave 2D's kick in the ribs for later and turned around to see what she wanted.

She was standing at the door, holding back the curtain over the little window there so I could see out into the car park. At first I didn't see anything, even though the light from my Winnebago was bright enough to light up most of the car park. Then I noticed something slinking around in one of the shadowy areas outside the circle of direct light—a humanoid thing with all of its limbs hanging at wrong angles, like a Picasso painting come to life. Then I saw another. And another, and…ten. There were ten of those monstrosities hobbling around in the shadows, dragging about on the ground, lying on the ground in impossibly twisted, twitching heaps.

I stared out at the scene for a good ten seconds. Ninety seconds later, I was hunched over the toilet retching with a lovely aftertaste of stomach acid tainted with sweet wine. (What can I say? After the demo tape, the fight, the running for my life, and 2D's hysterical assault, my stomach was completely knackered. At that point even a mildly ugly person would have been enough to set it off.)

When I finally emerged from the toilet, I was sweaty, shaky, but feeling more clear-headed than I'd felt all morning. Russel gave me a disgusted look and nodded towards Noodle as if to say, Do you always have to set such a poor example? I rolled my eyes and thought, Yeah, like your disgusting eating habits are any better. (Honestly, I don't know what he was on about. It's not as though Noodle hadn't seen all of us drunk or hungover at some point or another, and she didn't seem half as put out as he was.) Then I cleared my throat and said, "Well then. I vote we get the hell out of here, go stay in a hotel for a couple of days and stock up on some heavy artillery to help us take care of our…ah…little problem."

"Huh," Russel grunted. "When did you have the Winnebago fixed?"

I frowned. The Winnebago hasn't run properly since that bastard Dr. Wurzel got his grubby paws on it—something about a broken carburetor or the like. I'd been meaning to have it looked at for some time, but… "I didn't."

"Then what's your plan for getting us out of here?"

"I have no idea—hey, don't you dare give me that look, lards! I can assure you, if I'd had the slightest clue that we would end up in a situation like this I'd have had the damn carburetor or starter or whatever the hell it is fixed. I'd have had a couple of rocket launchers installed on the roof and kept a stockpile of flamethrowers in the glove box! It's not like you're coming up with any bright ideas, so unless you've got something useful to say, you can keep your mouth shut or get the fuck out of myWinnebago! Got it?"

"Yeah," he growled. "I got it, all right."

I was about to deliver a particularly caustic and detailed response about where, exactly, he could shove it, but before I could say anything, Noodle said, "Maybe we can take the Geep."

I gave Russel a glare to let him know that yes, I had noticed his sarcasm, and no, I damn well didn't appreciate it. Then I turned to Noodle and said, "Sorry, love, but going out there with those things skulking around would be tantamount to suicide."

"2D is a horror film expert," she answered. "Maybe he has some idea of how these things work so that we can get to the Geep."

2D with an idea? Laughable as it was, we were in dire straits and I'm sure you know what they say about desperate times. I turned to look at my mentally challenged singer. He was still curled up in a pathetic ball with his back pressed up against the wall looking even dopier than usual. Trying not to roll my eyes too much, I half-mumbled, "OK, brain ache. Tell us what you've got." This ought to be good….

He gave me a blank look, as if he had managed to miss our entire conversation. (Something that was entirely possible, I might add. This is 2D we're talking about here.) "Huh?"

This time I didn't try to hide my eye roll. "Your horror films!" I snapped. "Even you have to have gleaned somethinguseful from all the hours you waste watching that junk. So tell us: how do characters in your horror films get out of situations like this?"

He shut his eyes and kept them closed so long I was starting to believe that actually thinking about anything had been so difficult for him that his brain just decided to crap out and go to sleep instead. (Again, entirely possible when dealing with 2D.) When he finally did open his eyes again, he whispered, "They usually don't get out. I mean…most of the time everybody ends up dead or…or turned into zombies or something. Pretty much the only time anybody does get away is when the zombies are too busy eating some poor bloke to notice."

"A distraction, eh?" I stretched my mouth into a smoldering grin. "Thanks for volunteering, 2D."

"M-me?" he squeaked in a voice that sounded closer to a pubescent crack than anything that ought to come from a man who sings for a living. "But I…I don't—I mean, I can't…."

"No way," Russel growled. "That's not happening, Muds."

I gaped at him. I hadn't expected 2D to get the joke, but I've got to admit I'd had a little more faith in Russel's brain power. Apparently, he was as thick in the head as 2D.

I was still wondering whether I should even bother explaining that I was joking when Noodle said, "We don't need a distraction. They are gone."

Well. That was surprising. Russel and I hurried to look out the windows nearest us to see if it was true. (2D just stayed on the floor like an idiot. Not that you needed to know.) I stared out into the dark car park for a long time, keeping an especially keen eye out for anything twitching or limping around in the more shadowed areas. I was sure that she was mistaken. She had to be mistaken. But, try as I did, I couldn't see anything unusual.

After a long silence, Russel whispered, "I don't know, man. Think we should we make a run for it?"

The Geep wasn't far—100…200 meters, tops. A distance even I could run, worn-out, nicotine-abused lungs be damned. "Yeah," I whispered back. "Let me grab the keys."

I stepped over 2D and squeezed around Russel to get back to my bedroom and snatch the key to the Geep off my bedside table. I took a couple of steps towards the kitchen, then stopped and decided to at least throw on a shirt and a pair of jeans. (While I'm not particularly averse to going out in public in my knickers, there was just something damned undignified at the thought of dying in them.)

Once I was properly dressed, I went back to the kitchen to find Russel and Noodle waiting by the door ready to go and 2D still sitting on the ground like a lump. He didn't respond when I prodded him with the toe of my expensive Cuban heeled shoe. I gave Noodle and Russel and look that said, If I'm the one that has to get him on his feet neither of you are going to be very happy about it.

Russel stepped forward with a sigh, wrapped one of his massive hands around 2D's wrist, and hauled him to his feet. "Come on, D, we're getting out of here." He frowned when 2D didn't say anything and asked, "Hey, you OK, man?"

2D blinked and the spaced-out look in his eyes went away (or rather, diminished back to his usual level of vacancy). "Yeah," he answered. "Just scared is all."

"Yeah, so am I," Russel muttered.

"Me, too," said Noodle.

They all turned to me as if they expected me to say, "Me three" like we were in some campy kid's movie. They must have been absolutely crazy if they seriously thought I was going to say something that stupid. Instead, I said, "Come on; let's go already!"

Russel nodded to Noodle. She opened the door. For a couple of seconds we all just stood there staring out at the empty car park. (I don't know about them, but I wasn't about to be the first one to go traipsing out the door to test the waters. Unfortunately, Russel was too big for me to kick out the door without breaking my foot, and I couldn't get a clear shot at 2D with Russel standing between us.) Finally, Noodle jumped outside and started running.

2D and Russel were quick to follow—an absolutely daft maneuver if you ask me. I waited a good five seconds after they took off just to make sure something wasn't trolling around out of sight waiting to pick us off once we got outside. Russel noticed me standing there in the door and yelled, "Come on, Muds!"

I had to bite my tongue to resist the urge to answer, "I'm coming, cannon fodder!" as I started after them.

My shoes were pounding on the paved ground, echoing off the concrete walls and ceiling loud enough to raise the dead. Russel's thundering footsteps were even louder than mine, and I could even hear 2D's feet scraping on the ground every couple of steps. If there was anything out there, it had to know we were out, exposed with nothing to keep them away.

I heard Noodle shout, "Murdoc, hurry!" Looked up, saw her already sitting safe in the Geep, but with her face twisted into a horrified grimace. Something brushed my back. I have no idea what it was because I knew better than to waste time turning around to look. Instead, I reached back and slapped away something that felt like dirty, wet rubber. Then I was running, leaping into the driver's seat, trying to fit the damn key into the ignition slot with my hand shaking like a tweaker on a bad trip. (Of course, Noodle kicking the back of my seat, Russel yelling "Get us out of here, Muds; get us the hell out of here" in my ear, and 2D slapping my arm and gibbering, "Go, go" didn't help matters.)

I glanced up into the rearview mirror and cursed under my breath in languages I didn't even realize I knew. They were there, all right. All ten of them, closing fast.

The key finally slipped into the ignition slot. I turned it once and the engine gave a sick little cough; twice and it burped to life. With the car in gear, I slammed the accelerator to the floor and we shot forward. The engine sputtered, threatening to die out. I whacked the steering wheel and screamed some sort of wordless threat and lo and behold, the engine caught and we were roaring forward—until I noticed a second little herd of the damned things standing directly in our path.

I pulled a hard left to avoid running into them. (They didn't look sturdy enough to stand up to a head-on collision with the Geep, but for all I knew those suckers would release some sort of metal-eating acid, or somehow manage to get caught up in the axels and bring the whole damn car to a screeching halt.) There were screams from Noodle, 2D, and Russel. I shouted a belated warning to "Hold on, damn it!"

Then I heard Russel yell, "Oh, shit! D!"

I glanced at the empty seat next to me with and, with a sense of dawning horror, looked into the rearview mirror in time to see 2D come skidding to a stop face down on the ground about twenty meters behind us. I couldn't tell whether he was unconscious or whether he was just addled by the fall, but either way, I didn't see him move before the group of creatures I'd swerved to avoid blocked him from view.

Something he'd said back in the Winnebago ran through my head then: "Pretty much the only time anybody does get away is when the zombies are too busy eating some poor bloke to notice." My mind was already made up. I pressed the accelerator down as far as it would go.

"What the hell—Muds, what the hell are you doing?" Russel shouted.

I didn't answer. Not like I had to. Even dullard himself would have been able to figure it out for himself.

In the rearview I saw Noodle's mouth drop open. "No!" she screamed. "2D!"

I saw her squirming in the seat, twisting to put her foot up on the seat. "Keep her the fuck in the car!" I yelled.

A couple of seconds later she was screaming, "Russel, let go of me! We can't leave him here—we have to go back! Let me go! 2D!"

Russel was struggling to keep her in her seat, but winning. (If the Geep hadn't been bouncing over all the potholes in the car park at top speed, and if she hadn't been so hysterical, he wouldn't have stood a chance.) He was glaring at me in the rearview mirror and it was pretty obvious that he was mad as hell, but he didn't say anything because he knew damn well that I was right.

We came rip-roaring out of the car park as fast as the Geep could go. The mid-morning sun hit my bloodshot eyes like needles dipped in acid. I didn't even blink. Instead, I kept the gas pedal stomped to the floor until we blazed through the gates at the end of the grounds and onto the main road with Noodle screaming at us the whole way.

Author's Notes: Well look at that—an update that didn't take three years, and a long'un to boot. Thanks again to everybody who is reviewing this and putting it on your favorites and alert lists! It's always nice to get such great encouragement. And…erm…2D fans, don't kill me (yet)!

Next chapter: All Alone