CHAPTER 9

Malakaan

 

n the suffocating stillness of the concrete room, Casey was acutely aware of the rhythmic sound of Pike’s breathing, the click of Penny’s nails on the trapdoor, and the drumbeat of his own pounding heart.

“Is it gone? Are we safe?”

“Are we ever?”

Penny stared intently at the trapdoor with her head cocked, and then pulled back, moving to the far side of the room. Pike crouched and placed his open palm onto the steel. The trapdoor seemed to be holding, although it was bent in the middle. Whatever had been pounding from below was obviously very powerful.

“Quiet now,” Pike cautioned as he got down on all fours and pressed the side of his head against the concrete next to the trapdoor and listened. No sound came from below. There was a narrow gap where the door fit into the floor. He couldn’t see into the inky darkness, but he sensed movement below. A massive form shambled back and forth in the darkness like an angry ape in a cage that was far too small.

“Jeez!”

Light flashed, painting Pike’s face a bilious green. He lurched back as an upsurge of brilliant green sparks sizzled along the edge of the rusted steel. Casey caught a whiff of rotten egg stink as a tendril of emerald smoke twisted in through the gap. Instead of rising into the air and fading away, it became thicker and more tangible, dipping close to the floor. Two more gassy green tendrils slowly curled into view, and began exploring the edges of the door like slender fingers.

“They’re trying to get it open,” said Casey. “I wonder why whatever is down there doesn’t just smash its way through.”

“Don’t ask for trouble. Maybe it can’t.” Pike watched the sparks hissing and sputtering. “Those sparks are trying to eat away that trapdoor, but it doesn’t seem to be working very well. Maybe the steel has a lot of iron in it.”

The green wisps were no longer smoke. They had solidified into probing fleshy tentacles, wriggling along the surface of the steel. One of them wrapped around the bar and rattled it in the hasp and then quickly uncoiled. The surface of the tentacle that had touched the bar bubbled and blistered. The other two tentacles darted close but didn’t connect with the metal.

“See…that bar is made out of iron. Those things are trying to remove it, but they’re sure having a hard time. It’s like us trying to handle something that’s red hot. It got scorched where it wrapped around the bar.”

Penny lunged forward, sinking her teeth into wriggling green flesh and all three tentacles instantly dissipated into mist. She looked around and let out a low satisfied woof.

Pike smiled grimly. “And I guess they don’t like dogs.”

Casey leaned against the wall as far away from the trap door as he could get. He was beginning to feel a knot of panic rising, but he reminded himself that he wasn’t the first scientist to be confronted with unusual phenomena, and the important thing to do was stay calm.

“What did you mean about the iron content of the steel being high?”

“Some monsters react badly to certain metals,” said Pike. He kicked the end of the rod with his boot, wedging it in place more securely. “Silver can kill werewolves. Legends say that iron can ward off…”

“Werewolves! Monsters! What are you talking about?”

Pike sounded crazy. In spite of everything Casey had been through, he wanted to find a more rational explanation for all of this.

“I don’t believe in monsters.”

“Well, Red, I think you might want to start.” Pike turned and looked him in the eye. “What do you think those green things were? And what do you think is trying to smash its way in here? A pony?”

He started looking around for a weapon. What were the options? A broken chair. A crate filled with pipes and scrap metal. Well, one of those iron rods was better than nothing, or maybe there was something in that mountain of cardboard boxes.

Penny wedged her muzzle in back of one of the boxes, apparently determined to force her way behind it. Pike walked over, tugged on her collar, and bent in for a closer look.

“What do you know? Hey, Red, come over here fast!”

Pike braced his boot against the wall as he reached behind the box and pulled. Half a dozen boxes crashed to the floor. Rusty screws and bolts bled out of the mildewed cardboard. Another pull and a second stack of boxes fell, covering the trapdoor with more debris and revealing a door encrusted with layers of peeling paint.

Acrid smoke formed along the crack in the floor and the trapdoor began to cave in. Tortured metal shrieked as it scraped against concrete. One of the hinges ripped loose, and the rod that Casey had rammed into the hasp snapped in half. The trapdoor buckled and disappeared into the tunnel followed by an avalanche of moldy cardboard and trash. Glass shattered as a box of old bottles hit the floor below. Green light flashed through the gaping hole in the floor. The walls and ceiling of the square room were painted with long dark shadows. The light faded away leaving behind shadows that remained as if burned into the concrete. Shadows that were starting to ripple and shimmer with a faint iridescence.

“We’ve got to go,” said Pike. “Those shadows are starting to move on their own!”

The door was set into an opening that was tall and slightly arched at the top. Casey rattled the knob and pushed his shoulder against the wood, but the rusty lock held fast.

“It’s locked! Maybe we can pry the door open with one of those iron rods.”

“Just move!”

Pike ran across the room and leaped in the air. His black boots crashed into the door and the worn lock gave way with a spray of splintered wood. The door flew open and banged against the wall.

“Or that might work,” muttered Casey.

Pike landed lightly on his feet, bounced up, and spun around as Casey ran through the door. Penny tore past them and down a dark corridor, breaking through a veil of cobwebs. They raced along following the white flag of the dog’s tail. Shadows were peeling off of the walls and moving together. Some had begun to take on human shape, swaying and waving their arms. Gaping mouths opened and the high mournful wail began once more. The sound grew more despairing and yet more ominous.

They’re hurt and scared, Casey thought. And angry too.

He ran harder than ever. From the corner of his eye, he had caught a glimpse of something huge and inhuman forcing its way up through the shattered opening in the concrete floor. Pike was right. Monsters were real.

Hunched forward on powerful legs, a humanoid stood straddling the trapdoor. Rows of sharp stony plates ran down its broad back to a reptilian tail. It was partially obscured by green mist that moved purposefully, reacting to objects and air currents. It was using the mist to obtain sensory information like a bat using sonar to navigate.

The wedge-shaped head sloped forward, eyes hidden under a bony, protruding brow that dominated its face. It ducked and entered the corridor, flared nostrils sniffing the air. A dozen shadows bobbed and swayed around it. Some stood like men while others flattened against the wall again and skimmed along, flickering shadows once more.

Up ahead, Penny scratched anxiously at another metal door. Pike pushed the dog aside, turned the knob and pushed. Rusty steel scraped against concrete as the door, protesting loudly, opened a few inches. Pike threw his shoulder against it and shoved, forcing it to open wide enough for Penny to slide through.

“In here,” hissed Pike, but Casey was already slipping past him through the doorway.

To maximize a sloping building site, the foundation of the long abandoned Stepinpep Shoe Factory, had been carved out of a steep hill. The tunnel had led Casey and Pike through the hill and opened onto the second floor into what had been its main workroom.

The space had once hummed with activity as workers cut and stitched Stepinpep shoes and boots. Now it was just a home for rats and pigeons, and a graveyard for obsolete machines. Rain poured in through gaping holes that had once held skylights. Small rivers ran across the cracked concrete floor between rusted hulking pieces of long forgotten machinery. The dog led the way into the room weaving between the old machines, followed by the two kids who moved quickly but carefully to avoid slipping on the slick surface of the floor.

There was a low screech of metal against concrete. Pike and Casey ducked down behind a work table lined with rusted sewing machines. A heartbeat later, the steel door they had squeezed through sailed through the air and crashed against the wall. The monster ducked its sloping head and stepped through the ruined entrance.

From Pike’s hiding place, he could see green sparks crackling around its dead white eyes. Pike closed his own eyes and whispered a single word. “Malakaan.”

“What did you say?”

“That’s its name. I just know that,” said Pike. “Don’t ask me how.”

“Okay.” Casey studied Pike’s face. “But I’ve got a ton of questions to ask when we get out of here.”

“If we get out of here,” Pike muttered.

The chorus of shadow men surrounded their master swaying and twisting. As their mournful song echoed through the old factory, Malakaan listened intently, and turned deliberately toward Casey and Pike.

“Those shadows are communicating with that song of theirs,” said Casey. “That thing…that Malakaan…it knows we’re here.”

As Malakaan moved forward, its scaly tail swept back and forth, knocking a corroded lathe to the floor. Clawed hands clapped together in a shower of green sparks, sending out a wave of energy zigzagging from machine to machine.

Rusted gears began to turn. Ancient mechanisms, kicked to life by the strange force surging through them, sputtered and shook. Rattling contraptions ripped away from the work tables and danced across the floor. A sewing machine next to Casey pumped madly, and then burst into green flames. He jumped back, feeling a hot flush of anger. Malakaan knew they couldn’t get out. It was taunting them, playing with them like some horrible cat tormenting trapped mice.

A glance through the greasy cracked window that punctuated the wall facing the road revealed a twenty foot drop to the concrete below. On the side of the building that hugged the hillside was a single long low window with a rusted steel crank.

“It won’t budge. We need something to use for leverage to force it open.” Pike turned and scanned the work tables and floor for something to wedge under the handle. “Or smash it.”

The Saint Bernard stood stock-still, fur bristling, and then began to lope across the concrete floor, head ducked low. She leaped, hurtling through the window in a shower of broken glass. The drop from the east windows to the hillside was little more than four feet. The Saint’s paws skittered to find footing on the steeply sloped hillside, skidding a little in the soft mud.

The energy in the room shifted instantly, and Pike felt a panicked tightness in his chest. The green mists swept across the floor, and the singsong howl of the shadows rose higher. Malakaan charged forward, smashing worktables into kindling.

“Jump!” Pike grasped Casey’s waist and boosted him up on to the low concrete sill.

SCREE-EEE-EEE!

The grating scream of a hawk at close range made Pike flinch and duck down automatically. Talons raked Malakaan’s face as the hawk swooped low. Crows, ravens, and pigeons poured down from the rafters enveloping the disoriented monster in a cloud of flapping wings. Malakaan turned in a circle, howling and striking out blindly. A hooting owl wheeled in close enough to leave long deep scrapes along the creature’s scaled shoulder. Milky fluid wept from the wounds.

As quickly as it had begun, the attack ended. The birds sailed through the ruined skylights and into the storm. Malakaan’s living green mist swirled across the floor finding nothing. The boys were gone.

Pike and Casey heard the monster’s frustrated scream rattle the remaining factory windows as they trudged up the hill, grabbing onto bushes and branches to pull themselves along.

Casey followed closely behind Pike, grateful to be with somebody who clearly knew his way around. He wiped some sweat off his forehead with the back of a muddy hand, and glanced around feeling a sudden surge of panic.

“Where’s Penny?”

Pike turned and gestured down the hill. “Back there.”

The Saint Bernard stood facing the factory where spectral wailing mixed with the high squeals, clunks, and whines of the rejuvenated machinery as it ripped apart. Dancing shadows, thrown across the walls and windows by the fire, mingled with the howling silhouettes as they stretched and twisted. Three of the shadow men flattened out against the walls of the factory and slid down toward the earth. When they touched the ground, they solidified and started drifting forward once more with their boneless glide.

“Penny!” Casey called. “Penny! Come here!”

Casey started to head back down the hill but Pike grabbed the back of his jacket.

“You can’t go back down there, Red. If those things start to get close, that dog can run way faster than you.”

“Those oily-looking shadow things were in my house,” said Casey. He ran his hands through his rain soaked hair, pushing it behind his ears. “In my sister’s room.”

“Nice neighborhood you live in,” said Pike. “I’ve never heard of anything like that being sighted in Vermont before. We’ve got to get moving. The woods are thicker up there, and we’ll be more likely to find a place to hide.”

Shimmering dark shadows moved out into the storm, writhing and waving their wispy arms. Malakaan stood motionless at the window, head cocked. The emerald fire revealed the monster’s pale armored skin, seamed with raised scars that coiled around its entire torso and down its arms and legs.

“What about Penny?” asked Casey. “She’s squaring off against those things alone. We can’t just leave her there.”

“She’s not alone. Look up there in that tree. They know something’s really wrong here, and they are standing ready to fight.”

Songbirds and birds of prey lined the twisted limbs of an oak. A lynx crouched among them, fur to feather, and watched Malakaan and his shadows with luminescent gold eyes.

A trio of hissing raccoons had waddled out of the woods and now stood flanking the Saint. Rain-drenched bushes were torn apart as an eight point buck smashed through. It cautiously made its way down the hillside and joined the strange growing phalanx of animals, where it stood pawing the ground with its hooves.

The factory was fully engulfed in flame, and in the distance, a few sirens could be heard. Help from town was arriving, but Casey wondered if it would be soon enough.

“It’s time to go,” said Pike, tugging on Casey’s sleeve. “And I mean right now.”

Malakaan had leapt from the window, and stood on the hillside in a whirlpool of green mist, circled by his captive shadows. The mist spread out across the rain-soaked ground, swirling close to the paws and hooves of the animals and then pulling back again. Malakaan stepped forward, head lowered and muscles tensed. The Saint and the other animals barely moved.

Malakaan shrieked and lurched forward, wrapping powerful arms around one of the wailing shadow men and crushing it like a ball of clay.

Girders ablaze with green fire caved in, collapsing the factory floor. The oil tank of the old furnace exploded. Pike shoved Casey down behind the trunk of a fallen tree as a colossal ball of flame shot toward them. As he fell, Casey saw Malakaan hurl something through the air, something heavy that hit the ground next to him with a sickening thud.

Darkness swallowed him up.