fast. Shouting, Kerri dashed toward Brett, as well, praying that she reached him first.
Brett screamed.
As she closed the distance, Kerri finally got a good look at their foe in the light of Brett’s cell phone. Like the previous attacker, this one was a dwarf, but it was even more repulsive than the last one had been. It was naked, except for a swath of dirty cloth sticking out of its vagina.
The cloth was soaked with fresh blood. Kerri realized with horror that the cloth served as some type of tampon. The woman’s body was lean but heavily muscled, and her face, even obscured by the darkness, was clearly malformed. Her forehead bulged, and her mouth seemed to curve around her face. What hair she had was long and stringy and matted with filth. Her eyes were too large for her face, and the pupils seemed to almost completely fill in the irises. The thing’s arms were longer than its body and rippled with bulging muscles. By contrast, her legs were mere nubs—withered and useless. Despite this, the freak moved quickly. It waddled toward Brett, running on its arms, and reached him before Kerri. Brett tried to roll out of the way, but the female dwarf stood on one hand and slapped him in the head with the other. Brett collapsed to the floor, stunned.
“Get away from him, bitch.”
The female laughed at Kerri—a high-pitched keening that drowned out Heather’s shouts from the dark room.
Kerri felt a sudden but slight draft of air on her face. She glanced upward. Directly above Brett, there was a hole in the ceiling—a dark spot, blacker than the rest of the hallway. An open trapdoor dangled there. Kerri grunted in fearful awe as it dawned on her what had happened. Their captors had sealed off the hallway, turned off the lights, and then waited for them to pass beneath the trapdoor. The dwarf had dropped out of the ceiling, directly onto Brett.
The dwarf growled, eyeing Kerri’s weapon.
“Get away from him,” she repeated.
Before Kerri could strike, Brett regained his senses and lashed out at his attacker with his right hand. His movements were sluggish. He cried out, and Kerri noticed that his voice was slurred. His fingers scraped across the dwarf’s shoulder. The woman lunged forward. Her wide open mouth clamped down on Brett’s fingers.
Brett tried to pull his fingers back and moaned in disgust. Kerri gasped. She knew what was about to happen as surely as if she were watching footage that had already been filmed—and even as she raised the club, she knew she’d never be able to stop it in time.
The woman bit down. Blood flowed from around her lips and streaked down Brett’s forearm. Brett shrieked. His eyes opened wide. The thick lips on the dwarf’s face quivered. Then the woman reared back, shaking her head savagely. Kerri heard the crunch of Brett’s fingers breaking, even over her own screams.
Brett wailed. His voice rose in octaves and echoed off the empty walls and ceiling as the dwarf wrenched her head back and forth, ripping at the prizes caught in her jaws until they finally peeled away from Brett’s hand.
The dwarf growled again. Kerri edged closer and caught a good look at the shadowed, malformed face. It seemed garish in the cell phone’s light. The creature glared at her as it chewed. It sighed, clearly relishing the meal. A black froth of spittle dripped from the open maw.
The woman’s teeth ground meat and gristle and bone into paste. Her throat bulged as she swallowed.
Brett thrashed on the floor, eyes rolling and teeth clenched. His remaining fingers clawed at the wood. Blood jetted from his stumps, running down his hand and forearm as he kicked and jittered. He wasn’t screaming, but Kerri could tell he was trying to. His neck muscles were corded, and his mouth hung open, but the only sound he made was a low, pitiful whine.
The dwarf hunkered down and grunted, almost barking as it charged toward Brett again, propelling itself forward on its elongated arms. Brett tried to defend himself with his good hand, but he wasn’t fast enough. The creature rushed to his side. Her head darted forward, slavering mouth open wide, aiming for his nose.
And then Kerri swung the club in a wide arc and buried the nail in the dwarf’s eye.
It shrieked, a rough, gurgling noise, and spun around so quickly that the weapon was wrenched from Kerri’s hands. The dwarf scuttled backward. The length of wood dangled from its face; the tip dragged across the floor. The thing tottered back and forth, swaying, then lurched forward, glaring at Kerri with its remaining eye. It tripped over Brett’s outstretched feet and fell face-first onto the floor. It lay there, jerking spasmodically. Its bowels and bladder erupted, spraying the floor and Brett with foul, yellow feces the consistency of vegetable soup.
Kerri reached down, grabbed a fistful of the dwarf’s greasy hair, and jerked its head up. Then she wrenched the club free. The pulped eyeball came with it, dangling on the edge of the nail like a squashed, oversized grape. A strand of tissue stretched like taffy from the empty eye socket. Kerri twisted the weapon in her hands and the ropy gristle snapped. Cringing, Kerri shook the club until the eyeball fell off. It landed in a puddle of feces and blood.
Kerri watched, forgetting about Javier or Heather or even Brett. She stood there trembling, absolutely transfixed as the dwarf’s motions slowed. Amazingly, it was still alive, despite the massive amount of damage it had endured. The thing rolled over and tried to crawl, failing miserably in all efforts to rise even to its knees. Kerri stared, horrified. It looked toward her, one eye rolling wildly while dark fluid gushed from the red, raw, empty socket. Then it breathed out one long, shuddering sigh and lay still. A strange expression of calm seemed to come over its misshapen face.
Despite everything the freak had done, Kerri felt a sickened sense of pity for it.
She moved past the corpse and crouched next to Brett. Without a word, she pulled at his belt until it came loose from his jeans and slipped it over his wrist. Two hard yanks and the leather strap was tight, pinching the flesh until the skin beneath was bone white. Brett let out a yelp but didn’t struggle.
“Lie still,” Kerri soothed. “I’ve got to stop the bleeding. And then I’ve got to help Javier and Heather.”
“W-wh-where . . .”
“Don’t talk. Just lie still.”
Kerri retrieved Brett’s cell phone and eyeglasses. She glanced around for his makeshift glass knife, but it had shattered at some point during the struggle. All that was left were tiny slivers. She put the glasses on his face. The frames had been bent during the attack, and they hung crooked—one side higher than the other. Using the sharp, white light from the phone, she examined Brett’s injuries. The three center fingers of his right hand were gone. Raw meat and jagged bone showed clearly past the remaining shreds of flesh. The remaining digits were already bruised and swollen. His nose had stopped bleeding and didn’t appear broken. Kerri doubted that would comfort him, though.
Brett coughed and then moaned. Frothy spittle dripped from the corner of his mouth. He tried to speak again, but she put a finger to his lips. Then she handed him his cell phone, hoping that the light might give him some comfort.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back. You need to stay awake, okay? Can you do that? You need to holler if you hear any more of them coming.”
Brett whimpered, but nodded in understanding. He clutched the open cell phone to his chest with his good hand. Kerri felt like crying as she left him lying there.
She made her way to the end of the hall and peered into the darkened room. Heather was kneeling on the floor, sobbing. Dark streaks of mascara ran down her cheeks. Kerri moved up beside her, and Heather jerked in surprise.
“It’s okay,” Kerri said. “It’s just me.”
They were at the edge of a deep pit. From somewhere far below, they heard Javier groan. He sounded weak and afraid.
Kerri leaned forward and examined the floorboards. They’d been sawed off about five feet into the room. The trap ran the entire length, from wall to wall. Heather held her cell phone over the pit, and Kerri peered down into the hole, but all she could see was more darkness.
“Is he alright?” Kerri asked. “Has he said anything?”
Heather shook her head. “Not yet. I think he might have passed out or something. All he does is groan.”
Kerri leaned farther over the pit and called out for Javier. She kept her voice low—if there were any more creatures in here with them, she didn’t want to give their location away. When Javier didn’t answer, she glanced up at the ceiling, wondering if it concealed a trapdoor as well, like the one in the hallway. If so, she didn’t see it. The plaster was water stained and cracked, but there were no seams indicating a hidden door or compartment.
“Javier,” she tried again, “are you okay?”
He groaned louder, and then coughed. He stirred in the darkness, and once again, Kerri heard the distinct
