They glanced at one another, sighed, then set off into the darkness. Jason led the way, Steve slinking along behind him.
'Stinks worse back here,' Ronny heard Jason mumble. 'It's like a cloud.' Steve coughed. 'Bet we're heading toward the old part of the graveyard. Maybe it's bodies we're smelling.'
The lighter's flame got dimmer as they kept moving forward. Their voices grew faint, and Ronny had to strain to hear them. One of them, he couldn' t tell if it was Steve or Jason, said something. The dirt walls seemed to swallow the words up.
'Can't be that far,' Ronny called. 'Look for their shit. Comics. Porno mags. Stuff like that. If it ain't there, then it's down the other way.'
The flame was a distant pinprick now, and the shadows closed in on Ronny, surrounding him. In his mind, it felt like the darkness was pushing against his bodya tangible thing. The air inside the tunnel grew colder.
'Guys? Hey, Steve! Jason! Did you hear me, fuckers? It must be this way.' The tiny flame disappeared completely. Ronny gasped, and closed his eyes for a second.
When he opened them again, it was like they were still shut. He wiggled his fingers in front of his face, but couldn 't see them.
'Hey, dickheads! Get back here with the goddamn lighter! I can't see shit.' The darkness became a wall. A cocoon. Something cold and wet dripped on his head.
'Jesus Christ… hey, Jason? Get the fuck back here now, you son of a bitch! This shit ain't funny, man. Not one fucking bit.'
There was no response.
'Steve?'
His annoyance turned to anger, then fright. Not fear. Not terror. Not yet. But he was frightened. He was shivering and it had nothing to do with the chill in the air. No way he wanted to stay down there in the dark, especially not when the whole place smelled like shit. He couldn ' t go find them. Without a light, he could trip or stumble into a wall or something and knock the whole tunnel down on top of them, burying them alive.
'Jason? Steve? Come on, you guys, answer me.'
'me… me… me…'
His voice echoed back to him, taking on an odd, muffled quality. The stench, that open sewer smell, grew stronger. 'Quit fucking around, goddamn it! I know you can hear me. You ain 't gone that far.'
'far… far… far…'
'I'm gonna beat the living shit out of you both if you don't get back here with that lighter right fucking now.'
'now… now… now…'
The echo died, and was followed by a new sound. A grunt.
'The fuck was that?'
He wondered if there could be an animal down there with them. Maybe a fox or a skunk, maybe with rabies. Ronny shivered, then got pissed off all over again. He shifted his weight, and his foot collided with the discarded flashlight, knocking it farther into the darkness. He bit back a yelp. Enraged, he took a deep breath, preparing to shout at the top of his lungs, to yell and holler at them like never before, to put the fear of Ronny Nace into them.
That was when the screams started.
'Oh shit…'
Muffled. Faint. But despite the distance, there was no mistaking the terror in them. Or the pain. No illusions; they weren' t just fucking around or playing a joke. Something was wrong.
'Jason?' Ronny's voice became a hoarse whisper. 'SSteve? Please come back. Please
…'
'Ronny, run! Rarrggh…'
'Guys? What's happening?'
'Ronnnnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy…'
He couldn't tell if it was Steve or Jason, or maybe both of them. It was too highpitched, too feminine. He'd never heard either of them scream like that before. He'd never heard anyone scream like that.
'.. yyyyyyyyyyyyyy…'
'Guys,' he sobbed. 'II can't see you…'
'… yyyyyyyyyyyyy…'
The scream had turned into one long, warbling wail. Then, almost lost beneath it, was another grunta raspy sort of snuffling sound, like a cross between a bear and a pig. Abruptly, the screaming stopped. The tunnel was silent for a brief second, and then footsteps pounded toward him. The stench grew even more overpowering. Ronny glanced up at the top of the hole, but could barely see the outline. Something hissed in the darkness, a teakettle set to boil or a locomotive building up to full steam. The running footsteps drew closer. Ronny peered into the darkness, trying to determine if it was Steve or Jason.
It was neither.
Whatever it was, its laugh was guttural, like gravel. Both the hissing sound and the stench were all around Ronny now. Suddenly, even as his stomach churned and his nose burned from the acrid odor, Ronny realized what the sound reminded him of. Several years before, when he was younger, Ronny ' s favorite Saturday morning show had been Sid and Marty Krofft 's Land of the Lost. In it, there had been an alien race of lizardlike beings called the Sleestak. They' d terrified him; equipped with huge, black, bulbous eyes, clawlike pincers for hands, scaly green bodies, and pointed heads and tails. But the worst part, the scariest part of all, was the sound they 'd made: a reptilian hissing that went on and on with no pause.
That was the sound he heard racing down the tunnel. Racing toward him. Then the figure became discernable. Humansized; two arms and legs, and alabaster skinwhite almost to the point of albinism. Ronny blinked, then realized why he could see it. Whatever this thing was, it gave off its own luminescence. Not much, but enough to make out its features. He willed himself to move, but his feet disobeyed him. The creature drew closer, swinging long, dangling arms that hung down past its waist. On the ends of those monstrous appendages were oversized hands with talontipped, bony fingers. The thing seemed to be entirely hairless, and in the middle of its pointed, head was a tiny face; yellow pinprick eyes, a slit for a nose, nonexistent chin, all dominated by a huge, grinning mouth full of yellow and black teeth. Slime the same slime that covered the tunneldripped from its pores.
It was the stench of the creature that broke Ronny's paralysis, a smell so brutally strong and rancid that his eyes watered and burned.
Cringing, he leapt upward, hands grasping the sides of the wall, clutching the slimy dirt. He slid back down. Felt the creature 's breath on the back of his neck. It was close enough to bite him, but for some reason, it didn' t. Instead, it raised its clawed hands and swiped. Dodging the razorsharp talons, Ronny jumped again. This time he found purchase. He managed to get both arms out of the tunnel, grabbed a piece of wood on the shed floor, and pulled himself up.
His head emerged from the chasm, then one shoulder, then both. Suddenly, pain ripped through his ankle. He looked down. The creature's claws were flaying through the skin, and his white sock and shoe had both turned red. It burneda whitehot, searing agony. The monster looked up at him and grinned. Its small eyes grew larger, bulging from its head. Screeching, Ronny slid backward, his fingers slipping in the dirt.
'No, no, no, no…'
The creature lashed out again, slicing through the denim and into his calf. Despite the burning sensation in his leg, the monster' s grasp was ice cold. Gritting his teeth, Ronny pulled himself up higher, kicking out with both feet, freeing himself again. The thing in the tunnel grunted, then roared in anger. Ronny kept pulling. His fingers burrowed deep into the dirt, trying to maintain his grip. His chest lay on the shed floor now, followed by his waist.
Blood dripped from his wounded leg in bright red ribbons. And then the thing spoke, and somehow, that was more terrifying than its appearance.
'You have invaded my home. Forced me to break the commandment.' Ronny tried to answer, but found that he couldn't.
There was a jingling sound from outside the shed. Keys. The lock jiggled. The doors swung open and a bright
