The Aberration (3 page)

The mill was a living organism.  Guy had gradually come to understand that.  It breathed, it fed, it
shat
.  The raw wheat that whisked in the spouting was the blood in its veins; the filters its lungs.  It needed love and attention, and suffered from neglect.  If not given proper care, it would turn on you.

Floor by floor had separate machines that ground, sifted, and processed the flour.  Spouting ran along the wall and through the spacious floors, lifting various stages of product to their destination by powerful suction.

He walked each floor, scanning the massive rooms for any sign of Drake.  He probably just had a bad battery, but all the same… Guy’s eyes narrowed.  He couldn’t explain the feeling; it was as muddled as the sky outside.  But the feeling of unease only grew as he walked the mill, his muscles tensed as though preparing to spring into action.

On the fourth floor the purifiers sifted in time, creating a harmony of their own that blended smoothly with the existing melody.  The instruments rose in volume, the sound reverberated into his chest, his vision distorted…

~*~

Everything was slightly blurred, the colors faded. 

The foreboding castle appeared to be cut from onyx rock. The ramparts were warped and covered with disfigured gargoyles, the towering spires lost in low hanging clouds that flickered with smothered lightning. 

Sir Guy gazed at the castle, sword in hand.  His armor was battered and spattered with black blood.  Another knight stood with him, silver-haired and eagle-eyed.

Guy’s eyes never drifted from the dark walls of the castle.  “Are you sure this is the location, Antenor?”

Antenor’s gaze was sharp, his long hair rustled in the wind.  “Positive. The resonance is almost overpowering.  The Others are near.” 

“When does the Aberration begin, then?”

Sir Antenor unsheathed a two-handed longsword.  “It has already begun.”

At the castle, massive iron doors groaned as they slowly opened.  A towering black-armored figure strode out of the gloom.  It was humanoid in shape, but the deeply shadowed face appeared to be anything but human.  It hefted a rusted, jagged blade over its massive shoulder.

The reverberation was deep as it thumped its armored chest and roared in some guttural tongue.  Vapor billowed from its mouth, exposing jagged, uneven teeth.

Antenor turned to Guy.  His voice was cool as though he was relaxed in his garden back home.  “As we practiced.”

Sir Guy answered with a wild yell and charged with his sword pointed at the looming creature.  It roared in anticipation.

The savage swing from the grotesquery almost split Guy in two, but he managed to spin away at the last second.  As the creature tottered off balance, Antenor dashed in and stabbed at the giant’s midsection, right between the joints in the armor.  The bestial figure toppled, crashing heavily to the earth. Sir Guy swung his blade downward viciously.

Black blood spattered his chest and face as he stabbed again and again…

~*~

Guy’s chest heaved as he leaned against the railing of the inside stairwell.  His breath punched from his lungs in slow gasps and his vision flickered like a faulty television as he sat down and cradled his head.  It took a few moments before the world coalesced to normal again.  He took a deep breath and blinked open his eyes.

It was only by chance that he saw the drop of crimson beside him.

Hesitantly he reached out and dabbed his finger.  It was wet and looked suspiciously like blood as he smeared it between his fingertips.  He shakily stood and examined the stairwell.  Higher up he spotted another drop, then another.  He rounded the corner to the sixth floor.

Drake huddled into the corner of the wall as though he meant to burrow through it.  His fingers were painted red, haphazard lines streaked his face from hysterical clawing.  His shoulders shook uncontrollably as he stared from a waxen mask.

Guy took a hesitant step forward.  "Drake?"

Drake gave a wild start and pressed himself even further against the concrete wall, mewling incoherently.  His bloodied fingers left crimson stripes from his torn and jagged nails.

"Drake, are you hurt?  It's me, Guy.  What happened to you?  I saw blood…"

Drake's lips trembled.  "It's not… it's not…"

"Slow down, Drake.  It's not what?"

"It's not… not…
my
blood."  He pointed a torn, quivering finger.

Guy followed the gesture, as a sound like splattering slop assaulted his ears.

Disintegrating Lucidity

Rob was whip-thin, nervous-natured, and had a bad habit of not making eye contact.  So Fran was not surprised that he talked to the wall when he entered the lab. 

“Uh, Fran?  Do you have the moisture numbers for, uh…that last run?  I was planning on uh, going over them before I left.” 

She hated his tendency to stammer.  It made her façade of respect hard to maintain when looking him in the face.

“Right there, Rob.”  It was past time for her to be gone.  She should have left as soon as the police cleared them.  Reese’s death was hard enough to deal with, and she had other things to do.
 
Her forlorn apartment awaited her arrival where she would follow her normal routine of watching reruns of Friends and drowning her self-contempt in a half-gallon of double chocolate chunk.

Rob picked the papers up, pushed his glasses up on his nose and scanned through them.  “Little late for you, isn’t it? You uh, OK?”

“Yeah.  I was just about to leave.  Can’t believe how dark it’s gotten.  Looks like rain.  Figures.”

Guy’s voice crackled over the radio.  Even over the static and machine racket his voice seemed uncharacteristically on the edge of…
panic
.

“Anyone have a copy?  Michael?  Rob?  Someone call an ambulance right
now
!”

Rob’s eyes widened.  “What the…?”

Michael’s voice fizzled in on the radio.  “What‘s going on, Guy?”  Even over the line, his voice made her heart rate do somersaults.  

“Call an
ambulance
is what’s going on!”

Rob picked up the lab radio.  “Uh, Guy?  Is something uh… wrong?”   She wondered if Rob’s grasp of the obvious was what qualified him for plant supervisor.    Her amusement faded quickly with the sound of Guy’s frantic voice.  Even through the static he seemed to be breathing heavily, and in the background almost drowned out by the machines, was that… weeping?

“There’s… blood all over the place.  I have Drake… with me.  He found it.  Call an ambulance.  Get the… police too.  Think it’s… too late, though…”

Michael’s voice returned on the line.  “Dammit.  You won’t believe this.  The phones aren’t working.” 

Rob leaped for the lab phone.  When his face crumpled she knew that he got the same result.  Her throat tightened. 
What the hell is going on?

Guy’s voice crackled.  “Use your cell phone!”

She groped in her purse until she found it.  Her heart pounded.  “There’s no signal.”

Rob ran his fingers through his stereotypical corporate cut.  “Hard to uh, get a signal in the building sometimes.  I’ll uh… get my phone and step outside.”

They both jumped when the side door banged open.  Guy rushed in, supporting Drake, who looked like one of those war refugees she’d seen on TV: tear-streaked face with eyes wide and staring at nothing.  Blood covered his fingers and was smeared on his face and shirt.  Rob helped Guy ease him into a chair.  He huddled with his arms around himself, trembling visibly.

“What’s going on, Guy?  You uh, said something about blood?  It’s only his fingers…”

“It’s
everywhere
, Rob.  The walls, the ceiling… has anyone called the police yet?”

“The phone is out.  What the hell happened?”

Michael dashed through the other door, making her jump again.  Her heart sank at the look on his face.  For some reason he was dripping wet.  Water pooled on the floor at his feet from his saturated clothes.  “You guys won’t believe this.  Look outside.”

Through the narrow window nothing was visible except thick, unnatural rain.  A streaming curtain that obscured everything, it cascaded silently against the window.  

Fran stared.  “That’s impossible.  Just an hour ago I saw the sun setting.  Clear as day.”

Rob’s voice rose shrilly.  “Where the… hell did
that
come from?”  Fran half expected him to start wringing his hands.

Michael eyed Rob worriedly.  “I don’t know, but it’s thick as
soup
.  I couldn’t even get a signal outside.”

“Did you go up the stairwell?” Guy asked.  “Sometimes you have to go up higher…”

“Are you
listening
?  I couldn’t even
see
the stairwell two feet ahead.  That stuff is
thick
.  Never seen anything like it.  Plus it feels… weird out there.”  Michael’s eyes look challenging, as though he expected an accusation of cowardice.   “Thought I’d check in and see if anyone else had a signal first.”  He gave a start as he noticed Drake for the first time.  “What happened to
him
?”

“He saw it first.” 

Rob’s eyes quivered behind his glasses.   “Uh… what did you see, Guy?  We’re all here, uh… right?  Where did the
blood
come from?”  

“I think it was Greg.”  Guy’s voice was flat.  He seemed more interested in peering at the deluge outside.

“Greg?  Uh… I thought he was gone.  Maintenance leaves with first shift.”

“Yeah, but Greg always rides the clock for a few more hours.  Doing his last
inspection
before he leaves.”

“You saying he uh, had an
accident
?  Is he hurt?  You saying that?  Is
that
what you’re saying?”

Michael gave Rob a withering glance.  “Jeez, Rob.  Get a hold of yourself.  Let the man get it out.”

Guy hesitated.  It was that pause that alarmed her, that moment when she knew it was going to be much worse than any of them expected.

“He’s
dead
.  It was no accident.  There’s nothing on the stairwell that could do
that
to him.”

“Do…
what
?”

Guy’s eyes stared.  For a moment he looked as lost as Drake, who still sat whimpering.  Guy’s voice was barely above a whisper when he finally spoke. 

“He’s all over the place.  Something completely tore him to pieces.”

Accoutrements of Carnage

Michael felt the spider legs of apprehension crawl across the room.  They all looked at Drake, who shivered silently in his chair, eyes glazed.  They looked back at Guy, who met their gaze unblinkingly.  If Drake was in that kind of state of shock, Guy had to be right.  But…

“What do you mean some
thing
?  I mean, it’s got to be some
one
, right?  Who… would
do
something like that?”  He looked at Drake.  “Snap out of it, man.  Did you actually
see
anyone else up there?” 

Drake’s wildly staring eyes finally focused.  “No… I didn’t see anyone… else.”  He shivered, almost a convulsion.  “But Guy’s right –
nobody
could do that to someone!  There’s… there’s something in this mill.  You didn’t see the body.  It looked… like a dead animal after lions… ripped it apart.”  His eyes squeezed shut.  “It was… just
sick
!  God… oh
God
…”

Michael barely noticed when Fran gasped and grabbed hold of his arm.  He expected someone to say something, but Rob just sat down hard in a chair.   His mouth worked wordlessly.  “Uh… uh…”

Michael looked at Guy, who seemed to stand apart even with everyone crowded together.  Concentration melded his face into an iron mask, almost a caricature of steely resolve. His voice was completely calm when he spoke.

“All right.  Mike, come with me.”

Rob practically leaped out of his chair, blinking rapidly.   “Uh… where are you going?  It’s hardly safe…” 

“Shut
up
, Rob.  We can’t just sit here and think everything is going to be ok.  I need to go to the locker room for something.  Then me and Mike are gonna have a look around.”

Michael swallowed hard.  “We are?”

“Come on.”

He had to disentangle from Fran’s arm.  It actually took some gentle pressure; she had developed barnacle fingers when he wasn't looking.

“Be careful.”  Her voice was a shaky whisper; her watery eyes were glued to his as if trying to memorize his face.  As if she would never see him again. 

His smile quivered weakly across his cheeks.  “Nothing to it.”

“Come on, Mike!”

He took a look back as he followed Guy.   Drake, Fran, and Rob all stared like abandoned children before the swinging door obliterated the sight.

Guy's long strides were catlike, a panther stalking down the hall.  Even if it was all bravado, it still infected Michael as he half-jogged to catch up.  “What’s in the locker room?”

“Listen, I didn’t want to say this in front of the others.  You saw how they were.  On the verge of falling apart.”  He gave Michael a sidelong glance.  “You're different, though.”

Michael wasn't sure if he should have felt proud or frightened.  “What… what are you talking about?  Look, if Greg was… murdered… the chances of the killer still being in the building are…”

His back slammed against the wall.  It took a startled moment to realize Guy had seized him by the collar.

“Guy… what the
hell
?  Are you
crazy
?”

“What do you think this is, a
joke
?”  Something deranged flickered behind Guy’s dark, almost onyx eyes.  Michael realized with a sinking feeling that Guy was insane. 
I've been working with a madman who only needed the slightest push to send him over the edge.
 

Guy spoke through tightly clenched teeth.  “Don’t you get it?  Greg is just one part of this.  The ravens, Reese, this
storm
?  Think, for Christ’s sake!  This isn’t about some
murderer
.  Wake up!  It’s... its like…”