The Jackson - Part Three

3

Corey tripped as he ran down the steep, metal staircase. His body flew forward and sprawled out onto a cement floor, his flashlight skidding down the hall ahead of him. His ribs cried out as all of the air left his lungs but he could hear the woman screaming. It was more than screaming, she was in agony and she was crying out, saying something, but he couldn’t make it out.   

It took painful effort, but Corey pushed up to sit on his knees. When his breath came back and he got his bearing, he jumped to his feet and raced for his flashlight. His cheek pounded where it had also hit the ground. The stairs had already kicked his ass. His sore chest and jaw both ached as he ran and he feared that when he finally found her, he might be of no use.

He was so close he could hear the woman clearly. Not only was she still screaming, but a string of obscenities was pouring from her. Some of it was enough to make even him blush and the rest of it was in another language.

Corey’s boots hit the hard floor hard as he pounded down the hall. This place is a maze, he thought. There were turns leading him farther away, some dead ends, and all of it in total blackness. The only thing Corey could do was to try and follow her voice. He wasn’t a religious man but when he hit another dead end, he prayed that the woman kept making noise. Otherwise, he would never find her. Even if he had wanted to ignore her cries and go on to ransack the apartments above, he couldn’t have. There was only one way to go.

Then it was ahead of him. A thin line of light at the bottom of the wall. A door.

He ran his hand over his parted lips. He wasn’t ready for this – he wasn’t ready to walk through that door. For the first time in his life, Corey was terrified, and not for himself but for what he might see. Once he opened that door, there was no going back.

“Move your feet,” he whispered to himself.

Shutting off his light and stowing it in his pocket, his feet shuffled forward, silently. As he neared the wide door, he could hear that the woman was still talking in a foreign language and the maintenance man was… humming? Corey pressed his ear against the door and couldn’t believe that the little old man was humming.

He wished he had brought a weapon. Corey stepped back, took a deep breath, and flung the door open.

The maintenance man was organizing a bucket of cleaning supplies, wearing a blue jumper with a name tag that read Peter, and the woman, who couldn’t have been more than twenty and was dressed like she had been headed for the gym, was on all fours, trapped in a large dog kennel.

For a moment, they all looked at each other, each one trying to figure out what on earth was going on. Corey noticed the cattle prod on the man’s desk and strange weapons hung neatly on the wall. Then, the bewildered maintenance man leapt from his chair and attacked Corey. He may have been older but he was spry, his swinging arms were almost a blur as they landed every blow. It took everything Corey had to block the hits. In a moment of panic, Corey began swinging back. The man, Peter, if his name tag was correct, dodged Corey’s attempts.

Not only did he dodge, but he jumped and kicked and twirled around Corey in a frenzied dance. Corey couldn’t keep up. Peter kicked him in the gut and shoved him back against the thick wall where he proceeded to batter his ribcage.

Corey cried out and fell to the floor when Peter finally stopped.

“What are you doing here?” he spat. He had an accent as well. Another one Corey couldn’t place.

It hurt to suck in air and Corey didn’t even try to stand. “I – nobody,” he answered weakly.

Peter kicked him hard in the stomach again and Corey, unable to stop it, vomited. The girl in the cage had gone quiet.

“I’m going to ask you again,” he said. He leaned down close to Corey. His breath smelled of strawberries and eggs, remnants of his dinner. “Who sent you? And do not lie to me.”

Corey shook his head. “I followed you in. I wanted to go upstairs.”

“So you’re a thief?” He laughed then. His laughter bounced around the small room causing Corey to flinch.

It was obvious that this man was stronger than him and more adept at fighting, and Corey wondered what he would do to him. He looked over at the poor woman. “Why is she here? What are you doing to her down here?” His voice was so hoarse, he didn’t even sound like himself.

Peter was in his chair again, looking at Corey, and Corey knew that he was deciding his fate.

After a moment, he nodded to himself. Peter walked to Corey and hauled him to his feet. It was surprising how strong the old man was. Corey knew he was going to have to find another way to help this woman.

“Do you want to know what she is and why I have her caged down here?” Peter asked. After dragging Corey across the room, he slammed him up against her cage. “Are you still hungry, you little bitch?”

Hungry? Had Corey heard him right?

The woman didn’t speak. She watched Peter’s every move and she no longer seemed scared, but excited. She nodded.

“Then consider this thieving asshole my gift to you. Get rid of him and I won’t de-fang you.”

“De-fang?” Corey heard himself ask.

Through the metal bars, Corey could see her eyes begin to change. They went from a lovely amber to stark black. Her skin started to pale from sun-kissed to an almost blue hue. Her nails grew and the fangs Peter had mentioned started to inch their way down her bottom lip. Corey screamed and fought against the maintenance man but it was no use. He wasn’t strong enough and by the looks of it, this thing in the kennel could get to him no matter how fast he could run.

“Have you ever seen anything like that?” Peter asked.

Corey couldn’t answer.

“No? No ideas? She is a crone. I caught her eating homeless children in Central Park. I’ve been starving her for a few days so I imagine she’s hungry enough to eat an adult even though she says they taste sour.”

Corey looked back at Peter. He had been so scared he hadn’t even noticed that Peter wasn’t holding him any longer. Instead, he was reaching for the cattle prod on his desk. Corey couldn’t think of anything else. He reached for the cage and the strange bolt it had on its door and let the monster loose.

She lunged out and Peter screamed. The next few moments were a blur. The crone went past Corey and straight for Peter. Corey sat there, petrified as she tore into Peter’s throat, her mouth almost unhinging to take his neck in a singular bite. Peter’s head fell to the floor with a wet thud, his own mouth opened in shock.

There were sounds of slurping and bones crunching as she ate more of him, tearing into his shoulder and torso.

Something inside of Corey snapped. He had to get out. Peter’s body was close enough that if Corey moved slowly, he might be able to grab the maintenance keys from his belt. There was a big gray door, steel with an open window near the top, and Corey knew that had to be the way to get into the building. He didn’t care about robbing it anymore. He cared about finding someone to help him.

He snatched they keys and ran for the door. It was locked with a deadbolt.

Obviously he had gained the woman’s attention. He watched her rise from her meal and stalk toward him. He nearly pissed himself.

Corey’s fumbling fingers found the knob and unlocked the door. He yanked it open and fell into the brightly lit hallway. He only made it a few steps before he was tackled to the ground.

This is it, he thought. This is how I die.

She flipped him onto his back, better access to his neck, he knew. His eyes were shut tight and he was waiting for her to strike. Instead, she took her time climbing onto him and straddling him. She didn’t hold him down like she had with Peter. Her hands roamed over his chest and up to his face. Corey dared to open his eyes.

The woman looked normal again. Her blue skin and black eyes were gone. In fact, she looked healthy and happy if he ignored the blood and skin that trailed from her mouth and chin.

She said something in what Corey assumed was her native tongue. It sounded thankful. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to thank him, that she could just go, but before he could spit the words out, her mouth was on his. Her kiss was hard and deep and tasted of iron. Bits of Peter wormed their way into Corey’s mouth and he had no choice but to swallow them down. Her warm body moved over his, grinding against him and despite being scared, his body began to respond. He wanted to push her off but he was too afraid.

Then she stopped. She sat up, a big smile was spread across her face, and she spoke again as she wiped Peter’s blood from Corey’s lips. Corey wanted to puke again, to empty himself of the human flesh he had been made to ingest, but he held it down.

The monster in women’s clothing stood, shot Corey one last bloody smile, then left.

Corey couldn’t move. When he heard the other door to the maintenance room shut, he knew she was gone. Still he couldn’t move. He laid there trying to think through what the hell had just happened. But he couldn’t think. All he could do was cry.