Dave Jeffery - It Lives in Dark Places

8/14/2019 Dave Jeffery - It Lives in Dark Places

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It Lives in Dark PlacesDave Jeffery

Published:2010Categorie(s):Tag(s):"creature feature" horror action adventure

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It Lives in Dark Places

Running. Pulse pumping, pavement pounding and headlong.It was supposed to go smooth. A cushy number. A dead cert. Robert

Ashford shouldve known that there was no such thing; not when theFratellis were involved. The Fratellis the underworld equivalent of theChuckle Brothers.

Dont sweat it, Bob, Ziggy Fratelli had said to him not twenty-fourhours earlier with the smell of engine oil and wooden crates hanging inthe air of their garage. A quick in and out; thats all.

A simple courier run, Aldo Fratelli assured him. A gibbon coulddo it.

Given that two gibbons had organised it, Ashford didnt doubt this

for a second. The guys were small time, yet their ideas were big and waybeyond their muscle. Especially the one each carried as a brain.

Ashford was to go to an address and drop off a rectangular package;a weird looking, rubber sealed package that just about filled the palm ofhis hand. For this he would receive two grand. Too good to be true? Itwas the Fratellis so yeah, go figure.

When hed arrived at the address, an innocuous terraced house inNechells, Birmingham, it was about the same time as the UKs anti-ter-rorist unit. Their black cars and RVs screamed from all angles and of-

ficers got out, lots of them holding lots of guns.Ashford had floored his beaten up Citroen and fled the scene, but

several cars had followed in earnest. He was able to stay ahead, his driv-ing skills, his tools of the trade keeping ample distance between him andthe pursuing cars. But he had little chance once the helicopter picked himup. So he found an underpass and dumped the car and was now on foot,with her majestys finest hard on his heels.

As he ran, Ashford could hear their heavy stomping boots. He wasfit but he had to get real, he wasnt going to be able to run forever. Hehad to do what he did best; what he did for a living, and that wasevadethem. He needed to lie low, take stock. Plan.

When he saw themen at worksign and the orange, striped work tent,it was a no brainer. Bending low, he listened for signs of activity inside,relived that he could hear nothing. He ducked under the canvas, the reekof plastic and shit hitting him like a wall, making him momentarily re-coil. Ashford spotted the open man-hole and the tool kit perched on therim; its lid propped open with a heavy duty flashlight. He grabbed the

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torch and climbed into the hole, his feet finding the metal rungs of aladder.

With the kind of caution that only comes with unfamiliarity, Ashfordmade his descent and landed in ankle deep water. But it was the dark-

ness to his left that he noticed soon after, it seemed omnipotent, all en-compassing and it brought with it the terrible reek of human waste.

To his right he noted a creamy white arch of light in the distance, re-cognising this as the flashlights of workmen some way off. He smiled;his nose reluctant to move out of its wrinkled shape. The workmen hadvalue.

As decoys.Ashford didnt switch on his torch, and headed left; towards the

total, complete darkness, his left arm outstretched and his hand lightly

touching the wall, his fingertips inching along as they used the bricks asa slimy guide. His revulsion was held in check by his need to remainfree.

There was a sudden cacophony from overhead, the sound of manyboots thumping against concrete.

You: down there! Armed police! Show yourself! Come on out withyour hands on your head! the voice was muffled by a heavy duty face-plate.

Keep shouting, fellas, Ashford said to himself. Im perfectly fine

where I am, thank you very much!The dull chime of thick rubber soles bouncing off of the metal rungs

followed, encouraging Ashford to move further into the inky blackness,the torch in his hand squeaking in his grip.

In text book fashion the officers landed and fanned out as best theycould, given the restricted space.

Left: clear! someone shouted, his flickering flashlight falling shortof Ashfords shivering shape by mere millimetres.

We have contact to the right, Sir! another voice barked and thepool of dull light edging towards Ashford receded and panned right; inthe direction of the workmen.

Ashford had bought some time. Not much, but enough. He waiteduntil the unit had moved off. There were shouts and cries from some dis-tance away, the wavering lights muted in the distance telling him thatthe tunnel banked right, potentially blocking him from view.

Ashford saw the thing as soon as he clicked on his own torch.

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The sudden creamy light caused the creature to recoil for a few mo-ments. It lived in dark places and was unfamiliar with torches waving infront of it at such a close range.

It was big - much bigger than a man, its bulk almost filling the tun-

nel. And it had fur, yes there was plenty of that, slick with rancid mois-ture and giving off a stench all of its own. There were legs and, to Ash-fords added surprise, arms - blue-grey in colour, and big malformedhands. It regarded him for a while with black, lifeless eyes, dribblingsnot and thick saliva from a twisted muzzle that was home to manythick, buckled teeth and quite possibly a terrible, terrible death, as - likean agitated serpent - a thick, black tail writhed against the tunnel wall.

Without warning, the creature emitted a gurgling bubbling hiss,bearing its yellowed, stained teeth as though showing Ashford what he

could expect if he didn't move pretty damn quickly.And this is what Ashford did.But not before screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice distorting

crazily within the confines of the tunnel.He turned and ran, and the stinking slimy mass came after him, its

paws sending up a spray of stagnant water with each lolloping step.At the other end of the tunnel the anti-terrorist unit - having caught

up with the workmen - was slowly coming around to the idea that they'dbeen duped.

Bastard doubled back, one of the bigger officers growled from be-hind his visor.

Take Larson and go back left, Kite, another officer said to thegrumbling giant in the crash helmet. I'll remain in situ just in case we'rewrong.

No one came past us, one of the workmen protested indignantly.We'd have seen him.

Chas Beattie, the officer in charge, was about to reply when Ash-fords scream bounced out of the tunnel.

Hey, there's a light down there! Kite called, training his Gloch ma-chine pistol on the approaching target.

Stand still! Armed police! Stand still of we will fire upon you! Doyou understand?

There's something coming! Ashford shrieked as he approached theline of officers, and the tunnel was suddenly alive with clicks and popsas safety catches were thrown.

Stand still, Sir! Or we'll put you down!

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The command from the officer instinctively caused Ashford to hesit-ate and subsequently lose concentration, followed closely by his footing.He went down, heavily shouting opening his mouth to call out in pain ashis ankle snapped, then coughed and gagged as foul, shitty water filled

his mouth.Behind him the creature's momentum didn't allow opportunity for it

to stop and it leapt over him, now drawn to the torches, and the people,ahead.

Stunned by the appearance of this incredible creature, the line of po-lice wavered slightly, but then training kicked in and Beattie yelled forhis squad to open fire.

The tunnel erupted with the din of ear-splitting automatic fire. Fromhis place on the floor of the tunnel, swamped in filthy water, Ashford

covered his ears, and closed his eyes against the searing light emanatingfrom the nearby muzzle flashes.

Bullets peppered the beast, tearing into its flesh, ripping chunks fromits pelt, causing it to scream in rage and pain.

Yes, the bullets did all this yet they did not stop it.The creature slammed into the line of officers as a snapping, clawing

entity. Beattie's left arm was severed just above the elbow as a blue-greypaw gripped and twisted his arm in the melee. The officer went to cryout but the beast's jaws clamped down on his throat with such force, the

commanders helmeted head flew into the air and landed with a splashof blood and scummy water feet away from Ashford..

Screams and cries of panic now replaced the gunfire. A workman wasshoved against the wall and shredded under an onslaught of claws. A

bloodied Kite reloaded his machine pistol and emptied the magazine in-to the creature at point blank range, gouging a hole in its rump and caus-ing it to lash out with its tail. A whip-like crack ripped through the airand then Kites throat smiled at the open air before pumping blood ontothe tunnel floor.

The gunfire was now sporadic as the officers capability to protectthemselves fell foul to the creatures onslaught. The officer called Larsonspent his Gloch magazines and produced a browning automatic sidearm.He fired four shots before the beast turned on him and ripped him open.

Those stunned by the either terror or concussion were not spared; itwas an orgy of wanton slaughter, a theatre of blood, all the clichs youcan imagine rolled into one and hacked into frenzied gory pieces. Andwhen it had finished, the beast did not feed. It merely watched, its head

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bowed, sated; as though the killing was not about food and survival. Itwas just about killing, pure and simple.

Ashford watched this is fascinated horror, the torches that were stillworking providing enough awful light. It was etched on his mind even

when he closed his eyes. He stifled a sob.He began to crawl away from the carnage ahead, back the way hed

come, his focus now moving away from liberty and landing firmly onthe square marked survival. He wondered if he could make the ladderand climb; get the hell out of there before that thing decided it wasntdone killing. The burn in his ankle told him nothing was going to be easyfrom this point on, as if it ever was.

Then he sensed that he was being watched.He turned towards the creature, towards the bloody pile of bodies

not twenty feet away. And sure enough the creature had been rousedfrom it vigil and had trained those black, dead eyes on him.

It turned.He crawled.This time it didnt matter that the foul water swamped him, there

were worse things in life after all; werent there? Being shredded bysome ungodly beast in the dark was high on the list. He fought his wayto his feet, he even managed a few steps on his shattered ankle but noteven adrenaline could put distance between him and the thing now

creeping up the tunnel.He fell to his knees and turned to watch it come, its fur now blurred

by his tears of fear and frustration. Now, sitting on his backside, the painin his ankle a million splinters of glass, his heart cold with the certaintythat he was about to die, Ashford wouldnt have thought it possible tofeel the discomfort from sitting on something in his back pocket. He hada vague recollection of a weird looking packet that was going to earn histwo grand, a simple delivery to an address that had been swamped byanti-terrorist officers.

In his mind, something flickered in the resigned to die a hideousdeath part of his brain. It was the glimmer of hope, though part of himthought it more likely fools gold.

He rolled onto his side, and took the packet out, the creature was tenfeet away, stalking him, its snout foaming with blood and spit. Ashfordpeered at the rubber casing in the gloom. He ripped off the covers withtrembling hands.

Inside was a small case with an emblem upon it. A logo of somekind, and beneath this: two words.

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Phoenix Industries.On the case, there was also a seal. He broke it open.Something hissed and a cold, eerie mist wafted into the tunnel, lit by

the torch in his lap. He took out the contents of the case, a glass phial of

some kind, and as soon as he saw it, the lid closed on any hope that hewas going to get through this. He was a dead man; he knew this withunmitigated certainty.

But now he had choice.Beast was only five metres away, close enough for Ashford to feel its

putrid breath on his face when he smashed the phial against the wall.The explosion was huge, beyond huge, a vast glittering ball of ex-

pansive heat that melted Ashford and the creature with its intensity, fus-ing their bubbling bodies for the merest of moments before the blast

surged upwards, shattering the tunnel in an effervescent cascade ofbricks and flame.

And the last thing that went through Ashfords mind, the lastthought his conscious self could muster, was that it would take the Fra-tellis some time to top this screw up. And with that Robert Ashfordceased to exist.

The creature had final thoughts too. It remembered a time when itwas an animal; it remembered a time when it was a man. Where its pur-pose was to simply exist and make the most of what it was. This was be-

fore the labs, and the experiments and the lies. This was before it hadever heard of a company calledPhoenix Industries

END?

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Beatrice Beecham's Fete of Fate(2010)The full prologue and first chapter to the second Beatrice BeechamNovel.

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http://generation.feedbooks.com/userbook/17071.pdfhttp://generation.feedbooks.com/userbook/17071.pdf


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www.feedbooks.comFood for the mind

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Dave Jeffery - It Lives in Dark Places