Necromance in the Air - Chapter VIII - (fiction)
Click, click, click
We last saw Lucy poised to sever Felix’s arm freeing him from the creature that had possessed his limb. Meanwhile, Tony had been dealing with the interest of Daniel Turbitt, security guard and all-round average guy.
If you’ve no idea what’s going on you can jump back here (it’s 8 short chapters folks…and I do keep them short!)
Click, Click, Click
“Maybe it’s a team bonding exercise,” Daniel Turbitt said through ragged breaths, his chest heaving as he bent double, palms pressing against his knees. His pulse pounding in his ears like a war drum, a persistent reminder of his racing heart. Each inhale tasted metallic, the cold air cutting into his lungs. He patted his chest, a futile effort to calm the chaos within, as if gentle encouragement could convince his organs to stop screaming about the buildup of lactic acid. “Can’t be real, this whole thing…ridiculous.”
His attempts to reason with himself faltered as a sound pierced the darkness. It wasn’t the usual murmur of the night or the rustle of leaves. No, this was different—sharp and unnatural. A single click, then another, until it became a rhythm, scuttling. It started faintly, like the distant tapping of chopsticks being clicked together. But these weren’t ordinary chopsticks. They were metallic, long, and menacing. Click, click, click. The sound was precise, deliberate, like a spider in stilettos creeping over tiles. For a brief, absurd moment, the image of a spider in heels almost made him laugh—almost. But then he saw that thing again, all teeth and claws, mobile violence on far too many legs.
Daniel straightened up with a jerk, his hand fumbling for the keys at his belt. The retractable key-ring jingled with a chaotic clatter that felt far too loud in the oppressive silence. His fingers trembled as they brushed against the cool metal of his walkie-talkie. Useless. His only colleague had called in sick, leaving him alone. The heavy torch on his right side was pointless now. It was no threat to the thing hunting him.
Click, click, click. The sound was closer now, each step echoing louder than the last.
“Daniel-ereeno? Oh, Daniel…” Tony’s voice drifted over the carpark, casual and cold, sending a chill down Daniel’s spine. “Come and meet Esmerelda. She’s part of the special investigation too, and she’s very special.”
He ran, feet slapping against the pavement, loud and desperate, his breath ragged in his throat as he risked a glance over his shoulder. What he saw made his stomach churn. The moonlight reflected off something in the distance—something moving fast, something glistening beneath moonlight and streetlamps. His foot met with the curb and he stumbled, almost fell, but kept running by pushing one hand against the ground.
Then he met the doors, the final barrier to safety. Thick, tinted glass doors secured with a lock that made his job relatively meaningless. His fingers fumbled with the keys at his waist. The keychain was always in the security booth when he arrived, but he’d never used them. He glanced up and froze. Black handprints were smeared all over the doors—greasy, dark stains that hadn’t been there before. His mind raced, trying to connect the dots. Had someone been here? Another victim of the van man and his monster? The thick black substance wasn’t oil or dirt; it was something else. Had it come from the creature?
The scuttling grew louder, and Daniel’s breath hitched as panic clawed at his throat. He jammed key after key into the lock, but none of them worked. Some keys jammed halfway, some didn’t turn at all.
“Why are there so many fucking keys if we’re not supposed to go inside?” he said under his breath, his hands shaking so badly that the keys served as a rattle, as if he was trying to lead them to him.
Behind him, Tony’s voice rang out again, clearer and nearer this time. “Daniel Turbitt, el-Daniel-ereeno, don’t you want to be part of the special operation?”
And then came the metallic scuttling again, but it was closer, too close. Another key, it stuck in the lock halfway, and refused to come out again. Behind him, click, click, CLICK. He tugged desperately, his sweating hands making the task seem impossible. Finally, the key came free, and he jammed another in.
“Please work, please just—” Click, the lock moved. The door swung open, “Oh, thank go—”
“Thanks, Daniel.” Tony’s voice was suddenly right behind him. “I was a little worried we’d have to break in. Pencils don’t grow on trees you know?”
Meanwhile…
Felix collapsed, clutching the stump of his arm. Eyes wide, breath ragged, his jaw hung slack as he knelt. Coloured spots floated across his vision, lingering from the searing flash of light that appeared when the axe struck. There was a smell, like burning flesh and something sharp and metallic, like ozone.
He looked at the woman holding the axe. Black, oily smears were smudged across her face with sweat dripping beneath it.
“W-why are you undoing your belt?”
“I’ve just cut off your fucking arm, that’s why?”
“You… I don’t think this is really the time for... uh, I mean, that’s not an erotic—”
“Tourniquet, you freak. I’m taking my belt off to use as a tourniquet, to stop the bleeding so you don’t die. I’m not trying to have sex with you. What the hell is wrong with you? Stay calm, Lucy, you’re a professional. You’re clearly in shock.”
“I am?”
“Probably, but I was talking to myself.”
He looked at what remained of his arm and back at the woman. “There’s no blood.”
“There’s…There’s no blood? What the...” She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes open wide, mouth opening and closing, but no words coming forth. Felix waved what remained of his arm towards her. Where his wrist had been severed, there was no wound, no spurting arteries firing crimson life across the room in horrific spurts. The flesh had healed over, as if surgery was years ago.
“Where’s the thing?” Felix said, but she didn’t respond as she took a step backwards, hefting the axe in her hands. “Where is the creature?” He asked again.
Then he heard the bin move.
“It’s behind me, isn’t it?”
Lucy nodded, and she backed further away until she bumped into a desk and froze.
Behind him, Felix heard the bin move again. The thing that had been his hand was still active. He turned his head, attempting to catch a glimpse without making a noise, and then he saw it. The thing that had been his hand now thrashed with dark blue and purple tentacles, the appendages slick and glistening as they lashed against the floor.
From beneath the upturned bin, the tentacles reached out slapping the carpet tiles, and Felix watched, willing it to curl up and die. Instead, the tentacles grew more coordinated, and then the wastepaper bin rose on tentacles. The thing emitted a noise, a keening call.
“It’s trying to find us,” Lucy said in a whisper. “We need to get out of here.”
It turned towards Lucy, and then, using its multiple tentacles, ran towards her voice. Lucy lifted herself onto the desk, scattering stick notes and pens in all directions as she pulled her knees up to her chest. The bin vanished beneath the table, clattering against whatever lay beneath.
Felix broke from his stupor and pushed himself, with his uninjured hand, to his feet. Suppressing a grunt as a head rush dulled his vision. Then he looked at Lucy and around the room. He pointed at the desk she was on, and the one next to it.
She shook her head.
So he did it again.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but this is a terrible office layout. Maybe now’s not the time for interior design critique,” she said in a hiss as the clattering continued beneath her perch.
He mouthed, using his remaining hand to motion at the different stages of his plan, “Climb across the desks and get to the door. Then step down and open it. Hold it for me and we’ll run out, then shut it in here.”
“What about everyone in there?” Lucy said in a whisper, pointing towards the door on the opposite side of the room that led to the call centre.
Felix shut his head. “There’s nobody in there we need to worry about.”
“It’s a call centre full of people. I can see them through the glass.”
Still holding his arm in his good hand, he shook his head. “It’s not that…they’re not people.”
“Oh really, just a room full of talking heads, is it?”
“Actually—”
The door intended for their escape burst open. Standing, clipboard in one hand and a prepared look of disdain on her face, was Debs. “Hello Felix,” she said with an eye-roll. “What have you fucked up this time?”
I hope you’re enjoying Necromance in the Air, feel free to tell me if you are, or hit the little like thing, or share it with your Nan or something… If your Nan is into weird comedy horror involving tentacles and the undead and stuff, I don’t know, do I? It would be weirder if I did know, wouldn’t it?! Maybe I do? Psst…share this with your Nan, she’ll love it, trust me.
Oh, if you pay to subscribe I’ll put you IN THE STORY, or your name, or any name you like really. I can say that, because I don’t really have to worry about it happening. I do have plans for subscriber stuff though, I mean, this is a WORLD. The short stories I’ve released on Substack exist in THE SAME WORLD… MUHAHAHAHAHA… they do though, Chad, Eye-ball guy, Old Polly Lamplighter… Oh yes. Not that you need to read them.
Wow, I’m in a rambling mood today.
BYE!
Another amazing chapter!!