Ultimate Thriller Box Set - Crouch Blake - Страница 46

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Until he hit the wall.

Disoriented, he reached up, his fingers finding purchase on a doorknob. He got to his knees and entered the room, slamming it closed behind him.

He checked his clothes, to see if any batlings still clung to him. One was gnawing on his left calf, and he tore it off and tossed it at the bed.

It was then that he noticed what was left of Dr. Harker.

“...oh dear oh dear oh dear.”

Something had gotten to her. Something big and hungry. Her dead eyes were wide open, and her mouth frozen in a scream of raw agony. Glancing at her lower body, Belgium could guess she’d been alive for much of the meal.

The batling on the bed squeaked, shook itself off, and took flight. It came straight at Belgium, and he moved up his forearm to shield his face from the attack.

But before the demon reached him, a long pink whip snatched it out of the air with a THWACK! The batling, and the tongue that held it, vanished behind the bed.

Then came munching sounds.

Belgium held his breath, reaching his hand behind him, seeking the doorknob.

In the hallway he could hear the squealing of the brood. Going back out there  wasn’t  a viable option.

Maybe if he kept very still, the thing behind the bed wouldn’t come out.

As soon as the thought left his head, the thing behind the bed came out.

It looked like an albino alligator, with a grossly inflated and misshapen human head. Bulging, cloudy white eyes without pupils darted left, then right, eventually resting on Belgium. The creature blinked and stretched open its mouth.

It had more teeth than Bub did.

“Oh shit shit shit.”

Its six legs bent, and it hopped onto the bed. Belgium watched its nostrils flare as it sniffed the air.

The hallway was looking better and better.

“Um, hello there,” Belgium said, his mouth so dry he felt as if he’d gargled with sand.

The creature cocked its head to the side. The milky eyes regarded him.

“Hello,” it said. Its voice was that of a child’s.

Frank came very close to wetting his pants.

“I’m, um, Dr. Belgium. What’s your name?”

It moved closer.

“Do you have a name?” Belgium asked again.

“Shirley,” said the monster.

Belgium glanced to the left. The bathroom. If he could get in there and lock the door...

Shirley’s tongue fired from its mouth as if spring loaded, wrapping around Belgium’s ankle.

He screamed, then threw his whole body toward the bathroom, barely getting out of the way as Shirley leapt at him.

Frank moved faster than he’d ever moved in his life, diving for the tile floor, kicking the bathroom door shut—

It wouldn’t close.

Shirley’s tongue was still around his leg.

Belgium placed both feet on the door and pushed until the veins stood out on his forehead.

Shirley let out a heart-wrenching cry, and then the tongue severed, becoming slack.

Belgium pressed the lock button on the door knob, kicked away the slimy tongue, and almost wept with relief.

The relief was interrupted by an odd sound—a mixture of scratching and gurgling—coming from the door.

Belgium crab-walked away from the sound, and watched in horrific fascination as a small hole appeared.

Shirley, like an organic chainsaw, was chewing her way through the wood at an alarming rate.

Frank looked around for a weapon. He picked up a toothbrush from the sink, then put it back down. In the medicine cabinet were various pill bottles, some tweezers, and a comb.

He checked the door again, and Shirley had widened the hole to a ten inch circumference. She’d be crawling through any second.

Belgium reached up for the shower curtain rod, but it was bolted to the walls. The curtain itself was thin, useless. He spun and faced the toilet. Maybe the toilet seat? No time to unscrew it. But atop the tank was a heavy, porcelain cover. Belgium hefted it, whirling around just as Shirley stuck her head through the hole in door.

He gave the swing everything he had, cracking her skull so hard that the lid split in two. The creature was knocked backward, out of the hole.

Belgium craned an ear, listening. He could only hear his own beating heart.

Did he kill it? Was the thing dead?

He slowly reached for the door knob, but then thought better of it. Instead he took a step away from the door, then cautiously bent over to look through the hole.

Almost there... can almost see...

The tongue slapped against his face like a garden hose and wrapped around his neck, pulling Belgium to his knees. He gasped in horror as Shirley stuck her head through the opening, mouth open wide.

She began to reel her tongue in.

At first, Belgium’s mind couldn’t grasp the situation. Inch by inch, he was being drawn into her gaping jaws.

Then reality hit, and once again he screamed.

Unwilling to submit to the impending facectomy, Belgium planted both feet against the door and pulled hard.

Shirley answered by pulling even harder, tightening the tongue noose around his neck.

Belgium’s oxygen got cut off, and he began to lose the tug of war. Though he loathed to touch the beast, he made a V with his fingers and poked them right into Shirley’s bulging white eyes.

She cried out, the tongue loosening its hold. Belgium yanked on it with both hands, stretched it upward, and tied it in a quick granny knot around the door knob.

Then he shoved the door open and crawled past the thrashing, screaming Shirley.

Batlings be damned, he had to get the hell out of there.

Belgium threw open the door and rushed out into the Blue Arm, slamming it behind him.

There were no batlings left.

He just about wept with relief.

Then he heard the familiar scratching/gurgling sound.

Shirley was free, and biting through the door. Soon she’d be in the hallway.

Andy stuck his head out of Blue 1 and Belgium ran in and slammed the door behind him.

“Frank? Are you okay?”

“We need need need to get out of here.”

“What’s going on?”

Belgium’s eyes scanned the room, frantic.

“Weapon. We need a weapon.”

Something hit the door with a tremendous thump.

“What the hell is that?” Andy said.

“That’s Shirley.” Belgium said, gasping. “She ate Harker, and she's still hungry.”

Andy picked up the phone and dialed a number.

“Sun, there's something in the hallway. Don't leave your room.”

The biting sound came from behind the door. Belgium watched the sawdust begin to fly, and the blur of gnashing teeth.

“Did you find the cattle prod?” Belgium asked.

“Not yet. Maybe it's not even here.”

“He's military, he'd keep his only weapon nearby.”

Belgium looked under the bed and came up with a white stick. “It doesn't look big enough,” Belgium said.

“Figure out how it works.”

Andy went into the General's closet and began taking clothes off hangers.

“What are you going to do, dress it?” Belgium said.

Andy knocked away hangers and pulled out the closet rod. It was four feet long and two and a half inches wide, solid wood.

“Can you use that prod?” Andy asked.

“I think so.”

Andy raised the rod above the hole.

But, as quickly as it had begun, the chewing stopped.

Andy bent down to look through the hole. Belgium stopped him.

“Don’t. It knows that trick.”

They waited for almost a full minute.

“It’s going after Sun,” Andy said. “We have to go get her.”

Frank couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less, but the thought of that nice veterinarian alone with that horrible thing forced him to move.

Andy motioned with his chin for Belgium to open the door.

Dr. Belgium fought every ounce of common sense he had and reached for the knob, slowly turning it.

Andy gave him a nod.

Here goes nothing.

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