They were pale and thin, rigid, not fleshy, less like mammals or reptiles than massive, armored bugs. Their bodies were long and thin, plated, thorny and balanced on long, bony legs that folded strangely beneath them. Their heads, in contrast, were very big, with great, toothy jaws thrust forward like the cowcatchers on old steam trains. In contrast, their eyes looked almost human, except for their shocking red color.
He didn’t have time to ponder them further. They were moving, creeping toward him on stilt-like legs.
He had to move. Now.
The door to the kitchen was to the right. He only had to dart around the partition and across the smoking section before these things caught up with him.
With no other option presenting itself, he went for it.
The things bounded after him. They were fast, like the one at the asylum. They didn’t run like any kind of insect. They didn’t scurry or scuttle. They were agile and swift, almost primate-like. Though their legs were long and stiff, they didn’t stalk. They were flexible and lithe. The one that had blocked the exterior doors leaped over the partition and dropped down onto the dusty table, nearly overturning it, but never losing its stride.
Eric darted through the kitchen door and then threw his weight into it, holding it closed as one of them shoved against the other side. It was strong. He couldn’t hold it back for long.
To say that this was not an ideal situation was a grotesque understatement.
He searched the kitchen around him, but there was nothing but empty shelves and dusty counters piled with old, metal trays. There were no tools, certainly no knives. Why would there ever be anything as convenient as a knife? He’d even take a rolling pin at this point.
Something large and heavy slammed into the door, almost knocking him off his feet, but he managed to brace himself and hold it closed. He couldn’t keep this up forever.
The back door was at the far corner of the kitchen. To reach it, he was going to have to bolt for it. But even if he thought he could reach it before the enraged beast caught him, he had no guarantee that it was going to open. It might be locked or barred in some way, like the fire exit at the asylum.
But he didn’t have much left in the way of options…
Swearing bitterly, he ran for it.
The door crashed open behind him almost as soon as he began running. The monster stumbled and slid on the smooth, tile floor, crashing into the counter. It bought him a few seconds, allowing him the time to reach the back door. But it was just as he’d feared. It wouldn’t open.
Pressing his back to the door, Eric faced the creature. It was slinking toward him, it’s strange, bony feet clacking against the tiles.
Another door stood before him, leading back out into the restaurant. Eric ran for it, but it swung open before he could reach it and the second creature stepped through, blocking his path.
This was bad.
This was very, very bad.
There was no way out now.
Eric backed away from the second creature, but he had nowhere to go but into the waiting jaws of the first. Desperate, he snatched a stack of trays off the counter beside him and held them in front of him like a shield. They were about twenty-six inches long and eighteen inches wide, made of thin aluminum, relatively useless as a weapon, but there were four of them in this stack. If he was really lucky, they might hold off the inevitable carnage for as much as thirty seconds. Maybe.
There was nothing left to do. Isabelle couldn’t help him. He couldn’t contact Paul because Paul didn’t have a phone. Even if he could contact him, his brother would only end up as dessert.
Karen was going to be so pissed at him.
He looked from one of the creatures to the other. They were stalking closer. He could hear them growling. The sound was odd, less a snarl than a queer sort of clucking noise.
His heart was racing.
Out of options, he lifted the trays high above his head and turned to face the nearer of the two.
It paused for a moment, as if considering his choice of weapon, and then it pounced.
He swung the pans like the blade of a broad axe.
He expected it to do nothing more than anger the thing, if it even noticed the blow at all. Instead, the monster burst on contact. In the blink of an eye it was gone and in its place was a heavy mass of black goo that splashed across Eric’s startled face.
Even before he could wipe it away, he realized that it was gone, evaporated into thin air.
It was just like the one Paul hit with his truck, except that he hadn’t struck it with nearly the force of a moving pickup…
Shocked that he was still alive, Eric turned and faced the second creature. It stood there, staring at him, growling that strange, almost cooing growl.
He took a step toward it and was surprised to see that it took a step back.
“You can’t be serious.” He lifted the pans over his head again.
The creature actually shrank back from him, closing its evil, red eyes in anticipation of the blow.
He swung the pans and this one exploded just like the others. Black liquid splashed across the floor and vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.
Eric couldn’t believe it. After filling him with such utter terror, the things were as fragile as balloons. It didn’t make any sense.
Confused, he turned and walked away, still carrying the stack of metal trays in case there were more queerly harmless monsters lurking in the building. Instead, he emerged from the kitchen and found himself standing before an obese man in his mid-fifties, dressed in western clothes from his cowboy boots and boot-cut jeans to his button-up shirt. A spiffy, black cowboy hat finished the look completely and added a new level of surrealism to this already exceptionally weird day.
He was sitting at a table, one boot propped up on another chair, staring casually up at him. Had he been here the whole time? From here, he would have been completely hidden by the partition when Eric first entered the restaurant. And he probably wouldn’t have noticed him in his pointless desperation to escape those monsters.
Looking up at him now, the stranger said in a clear, Texas drawl, “Now that right there never fails to be embarrassing.”
Eric stared at the man, confused. “Excuse me?”
The chubby cowboy shook his head. “I can make them look like anything I want. They can look like kittens if I want them to. Or wolves. Or a big old bear. Or something right out of your nightmares.”
“You mean those things in there…? You made those things?”
A proud smile spread across the fat man’s face. “Little trick of mine. It’s pretty cool, actually. They come in real handy. I experimented with a lot of things, but those’re the scariest I’ve found. And believe me, it can be effective. I’ve known people to jump right out of windows trying to get away from them. One time, I sent a dozen of them in after a guy and he just killed himself on the spot. Saw that he didn’t have enough bullets to shoot them all, I guess, and just put one in his own mouth instead.”
Eric felt his stomach roll over. That was sickening, and yet the stranger sounded genuinely proud of himself.
“But when people decide to fight…well, you saw what happens. They don’t hold up all that well.”
“What are they?”
The stranger shrugged. “Dunno. Some people call them ‘projections.’” He pronounced the word “per-jek-shuns.” “But I don’t really know what they are. They’re just something I can do.” He grinned up at Eric. “Pretty neat, huh?”
“It’s definitely something,” replied Eric. These projection things sounded like something between a harmless residual and a manifestation of a real monster. He experienced both the previous year. One was little more than a mirage, the other fully capable of ripping a person’s head off.
Why did he keep meeting people with the freakish ability to create monsters?
The stranger stared up at Eric, studying him. He had the distinct feeling that he was being sized up.
“So was I supposed to kill myself back there? Was that why you sent them after me?”
Again, the stranger grinned. He shook his head, playfully scrunching up one side of his pudgy face as he did so. “Naw.”
“So you just wanted to scare me, then?”
“I suppose I just wanted to have some fun.”
“Right. It was a total riot. A laugh a minute.”
“Aw, don’t be a sore sport. Sure, they’ll bite if you let them, but if you put up any kind of fight at all, they’ll burst. Hell, all you’ve really got to do is bop them real good on the nose.”
“Who are you?”
Again, the cowboy grinned. “Nobody, really.”
“Okay…” Apparently, no one was sharing names today. Eric found he could live with that. “What are you doing here, then?”
“Same thing you are, I reckon.”
“Which is?”
The cowboy raised a hairy eyebrow. “You don’t know why you’re here?”
“Not really, no. I just kind of stumbled onto these places this morning. I’m just trying to understand why they’re here. That’s all.”
The man stared at him for a while, considering him. Finally, he said, “Well, there you go. We’re just trying to understand why these places’re here.”
“So you’re some kind of detective, then? A scientist? What?”
The stranger chuckled to himself. “Sure, why not?” He rose from his chair and stood before him. Up close, he possessed an impressive girth, much like the formidable Leon Rufar, although not quite as big around the equator and without the impressive beard. He also wasn’t nearly as muscular. His extra size came entirely from an apparent weakness for southern cuisine.
His belly sagged over his belt, he had two too many chins, there were sweat stains on his shirt and his cheeks could only be described as jowls.
Eric didn’t think the stack of pans he’d carried out from the kitchen would turn this monster into goo. He was going to need an industrial sized blender, which he didn’t happen to have on him.
“Let’s just say, I’m here to find some answers. That’s all.”
“Well, I’m afraid I don’t have any for you,” Eric said.
“That so?”
“Very much so. Like I said, I just stumbled onto the first of these places this morning.”
“So you say.”
Eric didn’t care much for where this conversation was going. “I do say.”
“And yet, you’ve found more than one. How did you manage that?”
“Well, once you’ve seen one, they all kind of stand out,” Eric lied. He hesitated to mention Aiden or his maps. He still wasn’t sure how all of this fit together. And Aiden, while skittish, hadn’t seemed particularly threatening. Sure, he’d shot at him with a Taser, but it could as easily have been a firearm. When it came down to the facts, Aiden simply didn’t seem dangerous. Unlike this guy. “I mean I did grow up around here. I think I’d notice if a gas station I’d been to a thousand times suddenly had an old deserted restaurant attached to it.” In truth, he still hadn’t seen this place from outside, but that was none of this tub of lard’s business.
“That so?”
“It is. Why are we talking in circles? What exactly do you think I’m going to tell you?”
“Like I said, I’m just looking for some answers.”
“Like I said, I don’t have any. And I have to be getting back. People are going to be wondering where I am.” Eric started to walk away, but the fat stranger blocked his path.
“One more thing, before you go.” The man made a show of turning to the side with his thumbs hooked into the sides of his belt. Eric didn’t understand at first why he was doing this, but then he saw the glint of metal protruding from the back of his jeans.
He had a gun. A big one.
And he was making sure that Eric knew it was there.
Thrusting one meaty hand out toward one of the nearby booths, he said, “What do you make of that over there?”
Cautiously, Eric glanced in that direction. He didn’t see anything at first. But then he spotted it. It was another of those odd, circular symbols.
“You ever seen one of those before?”
Eric glanced back at the man. Instinctively, he felt that it was a bad idea to lie about it. “I have,” he admitted. “At the other places. I don’t know what they mean, though.”
Turning around and gesturing in the other direction, the cowboy added, “There’s another one on the far wall, too.”
Eric looked back that way. He was right. He hadn’t seen it in his rush to escape the mysterious creatures, but it was there, carved right into the wood paneling.
Before he could think of anything else to say, Paul’s phone began to ring. More like his own phone, it blurted out a mechanical jingling noise, which was much better in his opinion than a Spice Girls song.
“Who’s that?” the cowboy demanded.
Eric withdrew the phone from his pocket and glanced at it. “It’s my brother,” he said, turning it so he could see.
“Your brother,” repeated the cowboy as he looked at the screen. “It says ‘Karen.’”
Eric looked at the screen again. “My sister?”
The fat man scowled at him.
“He used to be Kenny. Before the operation.”
This seemed to catch the hefty stranger off guard. He cocked his chubby head, his jowls and chins jiggling as he did so. He seemed to be trying to decide if Eric was making fun of him or not.
“It’s kind of a touchy subject, actually. I usually don’t discuss it with strangers.”
“Are you trying to be funny?”
“Nothing funny about it, I don’t think. It was actually quite sad. His first girlfriend was a store manikin named Rose.”
The cowboy stared back at him, perplexed.
“In hindsight, that was probably when we should have sat down and had a talk with him.”
“You’re a strange one. You know that?”
“Yeah. I get that a lot.”
The phone stopped ringing and Eric lowered it, but did not return it to his pocket. If he had the chance, he wanted to get a picture of those symbols.
But right now, he needed to remain cool.
If you’re still here, Isabelle, he thought, let Paul know where I am. But don’t let him come looking for me. And definitely don’t try contacting me right now. He was sure she was there—she almost always was—and that she already knew these things without being told, but he liked to be safe.
Just in case.
“So you don’t know what these mean?” said the cowboy.
“I don’t,” Eric assured him. He turned and walked to the nearest of the two symbols and examined it. Numbers spiraling inward, just like the others.
1160087310023116.
He lifted the phone and snapped a picture of it. “Let’s see if it’s the same as the one across the room.”
Together, they turned and walked across the restaurant floor. As they did, Eric looked around. The symbols were here, but there was still something missing. Nothing here pointed to that mysterious tower.
He wondered why that was…
The second symbol was different from the first, just like in each of the other buildings, except for the last five digits. Eric snapped another picture and glanced at his fat companion. He didn’t seem to be concerned about the camera phone. “I don’t know what these numbers are. I don’t even know where to start guessing.”
The stranger was quiet for a while, as if contemplating.
“So what about you?” Eric asked. “Do you know anything about any of this stuff?”
The cowboy turned and looked at him. “Nope. Afraid not.”
Eric had the distinct feeling that this man was lying to him, but he didn’t dare tell him that. Instead, he said, “Well then, I guess that’s it. Dead end. Might as well go home.”
The stranger continued to stare at him. He was suspicious. Eric could tell. But he really didn’t know anything. The symbols were still a mystery. He still didn’t know why these hidden buildings were here.
He was in a very vulnerable position right now. If he was right about these places, no one could see or hear them while they were inside. This man could shoot him in the head and just walk out without anyone ever knowing what happened.
And he was becoming more and more concerned that this was exactly what this man intended to do.
He had to get out of here. And he had to do it now.
His eyes drifted to the far wall. Squinting to see better in the gloom, he craned his neck forward and said, “What the hell is that over there?”
The cowboy turned and looked. He scanned the room, but found nothing odd. “What?” he asked. He turned back and Eric caught him in the face with the edge of the stack of trays, staggering him backward and off his feet.
He didn’t try to hit the man again. He didn’t dare go for the gun. He was no fighter. This man outweighed him by a considerable amount. He simply thanked God that such a stupid trick worked, threw the trays at him and ran.
He had a few short seconds to worry about whether the doors would prove to be locked like the one in the kitchen, but it was a pointless concern. As he approached it, a gunshot boomed behind him and the glass disintegrated from his path.
He raced through the shattered door and ran as fast as he could go toward the front of the building.
The cowboy fired another round. Then another. The window to his left exploded. He crossed his hands over his face to shield himself from the flying glass and continued running.
He realized he was cursing, but couldn’t quite remember when he started.
When he was past the windows, he glanced back, but the cowboy hadn’t emerged yet. He had to get as far from here as he could.
He turned forward again, and skidded to a halt as a truck squealed to a stop in front of him.
“Shit!” shouted Paul as he leaned out the window. “Where the hell did you come from?”
His heart thundering, Eric ran around to the passenger side door and jumped in. “Go!” he cried. “Get out of here!”
“Why?”
“Just do it!”
But Paul was already doing it. With a roar of the engine and a squeal of spinning tires, the truck raced past the ruined doors of the restaurant and out of the parking lot.
Eric kept his head down, half-expecting to be shot dead as they fled, but the cowboy did not follow him out into the parking lot.
“What the hell happened back there?”
Eric shook his head. “You’re going to have to let me catch my breath first.”