Chapter 18: Chapter 15

Mama! Mama! Mamaaaaa! 

Inky fingers continued to rise, smacked away by Colin’s kicking feet, but always returning to form moments later. Childish giggling mixed with the constant wailing as the abyss of masks stretched and squelched. 

Tightening the grip on his revolver, Colin aimed down, firing a shot into the creature. Gunpowder exploded, echoing around the factory, bullet tearing through the creature, pushing it back. It didn’t scream, or show any signs of stopping, pausing for only a moment before the hole patched itself up. The giggling began to overpower its cries, a cruel melody playing along Colin’s back. 

Caitlin stood, mere steps from the hanging detective, fingers flexing, eyes darting between him and the creature. Gears turning, thoughts brewing. 

“Hey, hurry up!” Colin called, arm numb, losing strength along with his blood. His face paled, arm shaking. He fired another shot, blowing a hole through one of the masks. Still the creature came, undeterred by the sound of the gun or the damage it caused. “Come on! What are you waiting for?” 

Caitlin slid a foot towards him, biting her lip, sweat rolling down her face. “Just a bit more...” Her ears twitched, eyes darting to a window. 

Colin fired again, and again, each explosion a crack of thunder in a quiet night. Each just as pointless as the last, tearing through tar before watching it knit back together. 

Mamamamamamamama! 

“Shut up, damn you!” Colin yelled, kicking a mask, cracking the ceramic scowl. Then the catwalk started to give, a bolt popping, jerking down. Pain shot up Colin’s arm, grip loosening. “Caitlin! Pull me up. Now!” 

Mamaaaaaaaa! 

The building rumbled, a steady thump thump thump growing to life, followed by the singing of a snapping chain. The wall shook, dust raining from the walls and ceiling. Every mask turned towards the noise, swaying and twisting, grubby hands pausing in their pursuit of Colin. 

Mama? 

Then the wall erupted, stone debris flying in all directions, large chunks smashing into the creature of masks and tar, shattering ceramic. 

Colin’s grip gave and he fell, stopping midair as Caitlin caught his wrist, the detective dangling over the dust cloud spreading throughout the factory. 

And from the dust cloud came a giant. Arms rippling with muscle beneath taut, gray skin and thick tufts of brown fur, shot out. In one hand, a rock it had torn from the wall; in the other, an oversized hook, solid iron with a long chain rattling at its end. An apish face snarled, the bottom half of its face raw muscle twitching over exposed bone. 

Roaring, the ape-thing swung, smashing the rock into the gathering of masks, porcelain bursting on impact. Then came the hook, impaling the mass of inky black, sticking. Mass pushed mass, the two creatures fighting their way deeper into the factory. 

Colin, shaking himself from his shock, looked up at Caitlin. “What-” 

“Protect your head,” Caitlin said, before dropping him. 

He landed feet-first, knees collapsing under him, sending him sprawling onto his back, hat falling from his head. Groaning, Colin rolled onto his hands and knees, dazed but alive. 

Caitlin landed next to him, knees bent but staying on her feet. 

Together, they watched as the two creatures fought, muscle and iron smashing harmlessly against darkness given form. Feral growls mixed with the laughter of children, heavy chain whipping both in the ape-thing's clumsy swings. 

“We should go,” Caitlin said. “Like, now.” 

Groaning, Colin stumbled to his feet, grabbing his hat on the way up. “Yeah... yeah, we should.” 

A final glance was all they needed, running through the newest hole in the factory, the ape-thing roaring as its arm got stuck in the other creature’s viscous body. 

* * *

They ran until Colin’s lungs gave out, collapsing near a tree that had managed to survive without the toxic smog constantly overhead. The lush green shaded the two as they rested under its cool shelter, the detective slumped on the ground, back pressed to solid wood. Huffing and red-faced, he looked up at Caitlin. “So... I think I’ve figured out why... it’s called the dead city.” 

“Please just shut up,” Caitlin groaned, leaning against the tree, her breathing heavy but steady. 

Looking back towards the smoke stacks bleeding into the sky, Colin closed his eyes. There they sat, listening to the city’s never-ending death knells, its walls throwing back the anguished cries. “Hey.” 

“What?” 

“You were thinking of dropping me back there, weren’t you?” He kept his eyes shut, resting his tired muscles. “That’s why you hesitated at first, wasn’t it? Thinking of letting me get eaten while you escaped?” 

“I...” She shifted around, looking away before nodding. “Yeah, I was. Thought it’d be easier to just let you go and get on with my life. It only crossed my mind for a moment, if that makes you feel any better.” 

“Right, because then you started to hear the big guy. No, I noticed something weird, but I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on.” Pulling out his lighter, he lit up a cig, slipping it between his lips. “Still could’ve let me fall and let those two whatever's finish me off. So, thanks for not letting me die, I guess.” 

“Uh, yeah... right.” The silence stretched on for a minute before she spoke again. “Hey.” 

“What?” Colin mimicked her tone, glancing at her. 

“Just, uh... what’s with the rose? On the lighter, I mean.” 

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Chuckling, the detective let his eyes shut once more. “Why, a man can’t like roses?” 

Growling, Caitlin put her back to the tree, sliding down to sit on the ground next to him. “It looks handmade, I can tell that much, even if it looks pretty good. You do it ‘cause you were bored or something?” 

Lifting the lighter in front of him, Colin inspected the etching, appraising its handiwork for the first time. “It was a gift, from my wife. She was a big fan of Lady of Roses; was Audrey Finch’s first major performance. We would listen to it together, and even though I wasn’t the biggest fan of it, she made this for me.” He waggled it in front of his face. “Now it’s how I keep connected to her.” 

“Oh.” Caitlin clamped her mouth shut. 

“Yeah.” Slipping the lighter back into his coat, Colin snuffed his cig, tossing it near a patch of bare cement. “Well,” he said, pushing himself back to his feet, “let’s get going. Don’t want to be out here still when the next thing deciding to kill us comes around.” 

Caitlin nodded, getting to her feet, and leading the way. 

* * *

The sun rose to its zenith, beating down at the pair, summer heat baking concrete streets. Shade became sparse, the smaller mutants creeping further into the shadows, forcing the predators to roam more openly for their food. Slipping into an old toy store, listening to the scuttling of roaches as they dispersed, Colin and Caitlin took stock behind a counter. 

Crouched, heads peeking over the countertop, Caitlin mouthed numbers, eyes moving down the street. She did this several times before nodding to herself. “Okay, got it.” 

“What are you doing?” Colin whispered, glancing between her and the street. 

“Counting the smoke stacks,” she said, pointing to each of them. 

Colin squinted outside, counting them quickly. “Six. Okay, why does that matter?” 

“The Doctor is weird, like I said before. Do you see the line of buildings in the distance, between the smoke stacks?” Extending her finger, she leaned over the counter, as if getting closer would make her pointing easier to see. 

“Uh huh?” Colin squinted, not really sure where she was going. 

“Well,” she continued, “there’s a total of seventy-three building between them. This is seventy-third street.” She then pointed to a street sign that had somehow remained standing, its paint sun-bleached but fairly new. 

Colin turned slowly, dead-eyed as he stared at her. “Uh huh?” 

Caitlin looked away sheepishly. “We have to go to... you know... six...” 

Colin continued staring, nonplussed. 

“I said he was weird, okay!” Caitlin shot up, jumping the counter and storming off. “Don’t look at me like an idiot, it’s not my stupid hideout,” she grumbled. 

Huffing, Colin went around, too tired and having lost too much blood to jump the counter. 

* * *

Strolling down the street, Colin realized quickly that there were no numbers or even letters indicating which building counted as the sixth one. Was it the sixth on the left, or the sixth on the right? Did it go left-to-right in a zigzag? From which end did you start counting? 

Caitlin didn’t hesitate, turning briskly into what Colin counted as the eighth building on the right. A cathedral, lined with towers at each of its four corners, a strong set of doors swinging on oiled hinges. Dozens of windows lined the walls across two floors. Climbing up its steps, their sheen gone from years of weathering, he slipped inside. 

Without the orchestral music, or the muttered prayers of a fervent assembly, the pantheon’s church became a silent box. A red carpet ran down the middle, pews lining each side leading to the apse. Stone pillars lined the walls, holding up balconies overlooking the cathedral’s nave, every meter heavily decorated. Stained-glass windows refracted light, shining the interior in a carnival’s colours. In the very back, behind the apse, sat eight niches housing marble depictions of the pantheon. 

Colin panned his eyes across the whole of the structure, the cathedrals above ground resembling this one in the most superficial aspects, while lacking any of the artistry that went into the individual construction of older temples and cathedrals. How much they had forgotten in the pursuit of industry became ever more evident, Colin thought. 

“Hey!” Caitlin called, pulling Colin from his own head. “You’re spacing out again. We’re heading upstairs, so hurry up.” And once again she stormed off, heading through a small alcove that suddenly twisted into stairs. 

Like a lost puppy, Colin trudged after her, scratching his wounded arm. He slid through the alcove, greeted by darkness as no light touched the hidden staircase. He watched as Caitlin pulled ahead of him, her silhouette twisting to watch him as she reached the top, beckoning him onward before continuing without him. Sighing, head down, he marched on. 

His legs ached. His arm hurt. His eyes burned. 

Still, he climbed, cresting the slanted tunnel that brought him out onto the inner balconies. Looking up, he caught Caitlin checking each door, closing the first three without issue. Opening the fourth, she stopped, taking only a moment to acknowledge the detective, nudging her head towards the room before walking in. 

Groaning, Colin stumbled, glancing over the intricate railings as he went. From above, a congregation would have looked tiny, the people insignificant. Shaking the thought from his head, he wrapped his hand around the iron door knocker, pulling the serpentine ring and throwing the door open. 

He stepped into darkness, the windows covered by thick sheets. Opposite the door stood two silhouettes, candelabra outlining their figures, voices bleeding off into nonsense. Air blew in unsteady gusts next to him, low rumbling preceding them. Curious, Colin pulled out his lighter, flicking an open flame to life. 

Beady eyes met his. Pale skin, like leather, stretched taut against a slender skull, blackened fangs vibrating as the ghoul growled. Its mouth watered like it had been drowning only moments before, saliva spilling out into a pool at its feet. 

Colin’s heart jumped, and he passed out. 

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