The Perdition Tales

Moonlight Dance, Part One (part two)

“Did anyone see where he went?” Greg asked.

“You were closest to him,” Denny responded.

“It was dark. I didn’t see a damn thing.”

“Neither did we,” Denny said. “But we need to find him.”

“He can’t have gone far,” Carl said. “Maybe he went looking for a bathroom.”

“In the dark, without telling us?” Greg asked.

“Maybe he’s trying to freak us out,” Carl suggested.

“That’s something you’d do,” Denny told him.

“True.”

“But he wouldn’t do this,” Denny went on. “Not now. He’s smarter than this.”

“So what do you suggest?” Carl asked. “That we split up and look for him?” Denny nodded slightly in response. “Dude, I mean you no offense when I say this,” Carl began. “But that’s an idiotic idea. In horror movies, this is how people get picked off more easily.”

“Maybe that’s what we need to have happen,” Denny said.

“Uh…what?” Carl asked, confused. “You say…what? That…what?”

“Well if something grabbed him, then it’s going to stay away from the group,” Denny said. “But if we split into pairs, maybe we can draw it out and catch it, or follow it back to Morris.”

“And if it’s strong enough to take two of us down?”

“We’ll be prepared this time,” Denny said, reaching for a knife he had secured to his belt. “We won’t get caught off-guard this time.”

“I think Denny’s got the best idea,” Greg said. Carl gave him an exasperated look. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s a terrible idea,” Greg said. “But the only alternative I see is leaving Morris behind, and I won’t leave one of my brothers behind.”

Carl groaned, closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead in agitation. “Fine,” he said at last. “Fine, let’s freaking split up. But at least stay close, within earshot, okay?”

Denny and Carl carried the girl with them into a nearby room, not wanting to leave her behind. Jesse and Greg followed the hallway onward, past their room, looking more intently further along. Denny and Carl’s room turned out to be a great library, with a desk in the center and every wall covered in filled bookshelves. Denny laid the girl back on a couch by the door while Carl began to browse through the books and display cases that lined the entire place. “Okay, Morris isn’t in here, time to move on,” Denny said.

“No,” Carl said as his eyes scanned the shelves. “There might be something useful in here.”

“Like what?”

“Like a map of the mansion. Think about it: if we can find a schematic of the house, then we can better coordinate our search.”

“And if there is no map?”

“Can’t hurt to look. Just keep an eye on her.” Carl continued scanning bookshelves, reading many titles that appeared to be in foreign languages. Some books looked to be hundreds of years old, others wholly rotted away so badly that he feared they’d crumble at his touch. Most of the names of the books were incomprehensible, but some were books on cryptozoology or legends and mythology. There were some books that seemed to be comprehensive studies of aliens and ghosts, as well as medical textbooks and even works on gardening.

“Well, that’s disturbing,” Denny said as he backed away from a display case. “There’s a gorilla hand in there.”

“A gorilla hand?”

“You heard me right.” Denny said as he glanced at another case. He almost immediately backed away in disgust. “I’d advise avoiding this one entirely.”

“I’ll take your advice on that.”

Carl moved from the shelves and began to search through the drawers of the desk. Most of them seemed to be crammed full of scraps of paper and useless junk, odds and ends that are to be found in any junk drawer. But in the wide, center drawer, he found something interesting. “Hey, look at this,” he told Denny as he cleared a space and spread the paper out on the desk. “I think it’s a map of the town back when it was first founded. See how most of it’s forest? And the highway isn’t even on here at all.”

“This must be at least a hundred and fifty years old,” Denny said, his eyes scanning it. After a few seconds, however, he backed away. “Keep looking for a map of the mansion,” he told Carl.

Carl continued to browse through the desk, but was surprised after a few seconds when something sparked on top of it. He backed away and stared as a small spark danced across the desk, finding rest on the map of the town. The tiny, blue flame danced across the map as if by magic, then settled on one space and began to burn more intensely. A second later, it extinguished itself, leaving only a single scald in the map and on the desk beneath it. The dot was about a quarter the size of a dime, and crumbling. “What the hell was that?” Denny asked, having noticed it from halfway across the room.

“I don’t know,” Carl said. “It’s like the map sparked or something.” He stared at the map, and as he looked at the point burned into it, a thought began to form in his mind, and within seconds, it had become a full conclusion. “I know where Liz is,” he told Denny.

“Not that again…” Denny began.

“No, I’m serious,” Carl started. “The house showed me.”

“The house showed you,” Denny said slowly. “Dude, you sound like a crazy person! It’s just a house! Even if it’s haunted, how do you know it’s not just trying to trick you?”

“A trickster house?” Carl asked. “Who’s the crazy one now?”

“Listen, we have a job to do,” Denny said. “We need to find Morris, find our way out, get some supplies and get back home, okay?”

“You have your wife!” Carl said harshly. “Why are you so against me finding mine?”

“I’m not,” Denny answered. “I’m just saying that the group needs you right now! We need to focus on the job at hand, not run after something that will most likely get you killed!”

The two continued to argue, each arguing his point with increasingly angered futility. Indeed, it seemed like the two were beginning to drift further and further from reality, each engrossed inside his opinions, with the map playing a catalystic role in the fight. And as their argumentation grew steadily angrier, neither noticed as the girl with the iron clasps at last began to stir.

While Carl and Denny were investigating the library, Jesse and Greg were heading further down the hallway, moving cautiously, each holding a weapon. They didn’t know whether it was safe to call out Morris’ name given the creature outside, so they remained mostly silent, hoping to stumble quietly upon their friend that they prayed was still alive. Every so often, they would hear the same skittering sound in the walls or under their feet. Jesse drew his hand back in alarm the first time it came through the wall, but nothing could be done beneath their feet, so they simply continued, though taking careful steps. Neither wanted to repeat the situation at the Haxon House, especially in light of what may be hiding beneath the floor of this dark mansion.

As they walked further down the hallway, further and further from the den that held their friends, the plaster of the walls started to be replaced with bricks, and then, eventually, solid stone. It was as if the hallway were becoming yet another subterranean passageway, drawing the two men ever forward. No doors stood in that hallway, making Greg wonder what lay on the other side of those walls. But at last, the hallway/passage ended in a solid, wooden door worn dark with age. Greg held the flashlight while Jesse turned the handle and first stepped through the portal and into the gloom that waited beyond.

Greg was surprised at what he found beyond the door. He found stone pillars, beyond which were rows upon rows of old, wood pews, all facing what appeared to be a rocky altar at the front. Great windows showed stained-glass visions of dark clouds lit by lightning, with men and women staring with fiery eyes. No hands reached down from above but dark claws seemed to reach from below, chains wrapped around the wrists. Greg wondered what church would ever venerate such imagery. Up above, dark rafters swooped in pointed arches, except for a hole through which the moon shone brightly down. Greg checked his watch; it was 11:30. He looked at the patch of bare ground illuminated by the shaft of moonlight and surmised that in half an hour, that light would fall directly on the altar. He felt uncomfortable about what may happen at that time.

While Greg was taking in his surroundings, Jesse was hit by a wave of sound, a chorus of cries and moans and weeps and groans, voices crying and voices screaming from the shadows. He could barely concentrate due to the sheer cacophony of noise that seemed to burst his eardrums and flood his mind, chasing away all thoughts save their own unintelligible drivel. He almost began to scream before the voices became distinct, and when he heard what they had to say, he became overwhelmed with a singular impulse, one honed motivation clouding all rational thought from his brain. With only the most imperceptible of hesitations, he strode confidently down the aisle and up to the altar. With a swift motion, he grabbed the book that rested upon it, not a Bible but something equally as ancient, a parallel enigma to the holy book. His hands moved independently of his sight as they flipped to a certain page, and he stepped forward into the shaft of light, then began to speak strange and foreign words, half-read and half-heard phrases not heard in so very long.

Greg’s eyes grew wide as he saw his friend moving. He watched in confusion as his friend seemed to open a mysterious and unknown ceremony. He clasped his hands over his ears as the words of Jesse began to claw him at the deepest level, to grasp at his soul even though he knew not their meaning, though certain choice bits appeared to be in English, but melded with other languages. “Commence and arise, gather akouetai, ex nihilo, ex khora, en kroney sey-shas!” he cried out, his voice that of a madman. “The beasts have become and walk from the muck, the garden eats and the darkness breathes! Draw from the swamp and consume the flesh ex nihilo, ex khora, genoita, genoita!”

Greg fell against a pillar with his hands against his ears, trying in vain to keep the words at bay. But even with his ears covered, he could hear the creaking from the rafters as they began to move, to groan. He could hear the distant sound of enormous, monstrous jaws clamping shut only to open again, the light of the moon vanishing and reappearing. The rafters fell into darkness only to come back a bone-white, as if they were the ribs of some enormous whale that had swallowed him. And as he stumbled back against the wall, the terror welling up inside him, he could see the pews slowly starting to fill as strange, translucent and visceral forms began to take their places.

The creaking of the house drew Denny and Carl out of their argument. They both froze and listened. Then Denny forgot the noise as he saw the girl’s arm moving, slowly and barely like that of a person still half-asleep. “Can you hear me?” he asked the girl as he crouched down beside her bed, taking her hand in his. “Do you hear my voice?” But her eyes, which had shown a hint of opening, were now sagging lazily, heavily, and her arm had again gone limp.

“What’s going on out there?” Denny asked Carl, who’d had gone over to the door and opened it slightly.

“I don’t know,” Carl responded. “The hallway’s empty, or at least what I can see of it is. Should we go check on Greg and Jesse or block the door and stay here?”

“They’re our friends,” Denny said, wrapping his arms around the girl to carry her again. “We need to make sure they’re ok. Is the sound coming from the direction they went?” Carl nodded. “Then that’s the way we’re going.”

“And the girl?” Carl asked.

“We can’t just leave her,” Denny answered. “She’s defenseless. She’s coming, too.”

Carl shrugged in response and drew out his flashlight while Denny strained to lift the girl. When Denny’s eyes were turned, he quickly stuffed the map of King’s End into his pocket before he moved over to the door. He clicked on his light, drew out his knife and moved tentatively into the hall, Denny moving behind him. They followed Carl’s light since both of Denny’s hands were busy with his new charge. Together, they followed the hallway, walking for much longer than they’d expected to, feeling the walls as they turned from plaster to bricks to stone. Every now and then, they felt vibrations in the walls and under their feet, as if they were nearing a construction site, or perhaps even a blast zone being prepared. There were the groans of ancient masonry settling on the foundation, sometimes sounding more like the rising of some leviathan beast roused from some dark and archaic sleep. Carl hesitated when they reached the old door and turned to his companion. “Open it,” Denny mouthed silently in the half-light, nodding to the door. Carl took a deep breath, placed his knife into the same hand as the flashlight and opened the door slowly, stepping cautiously over the threshold.

On the other side of the door was what appeared to be the inside of a small cathedral. Stone pillars rose in rows, reaching up to a curved ceiling etched in unknown symbols. Stained-glass representations of hideous figures and pale people with fiery eyes watched over the pews, which seemed to be filled with frozen people. But as Carl looked closer, he saw that the people were moving, but slowly, blurrily, and melding into each other. And they almost seemed to glow. Denny nearly stumbled when he realized that he could also see through them, though not clearly. And up at the front of this mad service, Jesse stood, his ablaze and what seemed to be shadows dancing around him like a translucent robe. He held a book and seemed to be commanding the ghostly congregants, speaking words that became unintelligible this far back. He made no notice of the new guests.

Carl and Denny found Greg sitting near the back of the hall, his back to the wall, his hands pressed strongly against his ears and his chest moving raggedly as he noiselessly cried. Carl ran over and tried getting his attention. Greg didn’t move, and remained stubbornly rigid as Carl tried pulling his hands away from his ears. When Greg finally looked up and saw Carl and Denny, his eyes cleared and he dropped his hands as he slowly stumbled to his feet.

“What the hell is going on?” Denny asked.

“I don’t know,” Greg said. “We came in here and he just went up there and things went to hell. It’s almost like he’s possessed.”

“In this house, I can believe it,” Carl said. “Listen, we need to move. I don’t know what’s happening here, but it’s like the house is coming alive. Who knows what the hell is going on out there, but I’d rather be outside this thing than in the middle of it.”

“What about Jesse?” Greg asked.

“I don’t know,” Denny said. “But my first priority is getting her out of this chaos. We need to move now.”

“Is there any way to get Jesse out of here without making things worse?” Carl asked. “I mean, if we can convince him to stop doing whatever he’s doing and if we can get him to come with us…are those ghosts going to attack us? Or will the house even let him leave?”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” Greg muttered, straining like he was about to lose it. He stopped, however, when his eyes fell on Jesse up front. The pews were now filled and Jesse appeared to be wholly wrapped up in a ghostly, dark robe, and his voice was carrying more strongly than any voice should in such a place. But…it was his friend up there. “You two go,” Greg told his companions. “Take the girl and get out of the house.”

“What about you?” Denny asked.

“I’ll stay,” Greg responded. “I’m not leaving my friend behind.”

“But-” Carl began.

“It’ll be okay,” Greg told him, passing a wave of resignation over his friends. This was a side of Greg that they saw only in the most tumultuous of times, a seeming aura of peace and understanding. “Jesse’s my brother, just like each of you. The two of you have a responsibility to get this girl to safety; it doesn’t matter who she is. And we also have a responsibility to Jesse and Morris. Let me handle that.”

Denny said nothing, but walked past his friend. He didn’t have a hand to wipe the tear from his eye, nor was he able to do more than offer a nod of solidarity to the tall, thin man. “There’s nothing I can say,” Carl told Greg as he passed him by, too. “I’m blessed to have known you. Now go and save our friend.” With that, Carl, Denny and the girl were out the nearby door, leaving Greg alone with the phantoms and his friend.

Walking with a confidence that was shaken by every step, Greg marched his way down the aisle, past the pale and rotting faces of the horrifying dead. Jesse took no immediate notice of him, but as Greg walked, the shadows around him seemed to recede, as if he was carrying a mysterious light inside himself. Even the shadowy robes of Jesse started to peel away as Greg drew close, revealing Jesse’s normal dirty and torn clothes underneath. As Greg stepped up beside the altar beside him, Jesse’s words faltered ever-so-slightly and his eyes locked on Greg. Then the look of fiery determination wavered and, for only the slightest of moments, Greg could see his old friend again, his memories restored along with his sanity. Greg talked through Jesse’s enigmatic spells as he told the madman that he would never leave his brother behind. Greg told him how he wouldn’t abandon him to the darkness. And then, Greg placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder as the rest of him started to fade away like the rest of the parishioners who watched and waited in silence.

Carl and Denny stumbled outside and ran hard, the building behind them creaking and groaning like a wounded animal. They paused only long enough to glance back and confirm that it had, indeed, been Mane Manor that had claimed their friends. The mansion loomed in the shadows, half-shrouded in darkness, half-lit by the occasional bits of moonlight that pierced through the clouds. Great wings extended from either side of the building, like the legs and paws of a great beast marking its territory. Carl was nearly frozen in place, frozen like one of the mighty pillars inside the temple from which they’d just escaped. A sharp call from Denny shook him out of the spell and he continued to move away from that place.

The woods began to eat up the mansion until all they could see were the shadows and dark patches of the path they were following. Carl shined his flashlight while Denny continued to carry the girl, who felt to him like she was getting heavier with each step. At last, when Denny could go no further, his back aching with the strain, he lay the girl down in the grass at the edge of a clearing. Carl stopped beside him. “Go take a look up ahead,” Denny told him. “Make sure it’s safe.”

“I think we should stick together.”

“I need a break,” Denny said, breathing hard. “Besides, you’re the faster of us. If something’s dangerous, you could make it back and warn us before I could. Go take a look.”

Carl took a look at Denny to make sure he was okay and then took off into the woods. He kept the beam of his light low, his other hand powerfully gripping his knife. He moved quickly but cautiously, not wanting to draw any attention to himself from what may have been with him in the dark. He reached another clearing and carefully scanned it. He flicked his light off to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. But as he did so, the clouds cleared and the moon shone brightly above, illuminating the entire clearing. A fog seemed to have rolled into the area, climbing out of the swamp and reaching this empty place where it could swirl and twist and create the illusion of fanciful figures beneath the moon. Carl stepped back into the trees for cover as he watched the fog carefully, knowing that worse things than he’d seen could utilize such a fog to their advantage.

A scream broke through the silent forest. Carl spun around, pressed himself against the nearest tree and waited. A second scream broke out, this one continuous. Carl leapt back onto the trail, flicking his light on as he ran to the source of the scream: it was Denny. Carl reached his friend within seconds. Denny was lying on the ground, a gash in his chest and along one of his arms. Blood was pooling onto the ground around him, and he was gasping in air raggedly, groaning as he did. Carl knelt beside him to check but froze when he saw the second figure in his periphery. Slowly, he shuffled around, still stooped down beside Denny, and looked at her.

It was the girl from the basement, the girl Denny had been carrying all this time. She was awake and standing, her torn rags billowing in the cool breeze as her dark, matted hair stayed plastered to her forehead, leaving little visible of her face. But in the light of the moon, Carl could see her fingers, the nails grown long into sharp claws at least an inch long. With one of the claws, she brushed her hair out of her face, revealing a contorted face, her jaw jutting forward slightly as her cheeks stretched long. Her face was becoming blurry, as if patches of light fuzz were beginning to spread across her skin. And in the shadow cast by her downcast head, he could see the faint glow of her eyes, the same unnerving reflection that a person can see in woodland creatures at night. She stepped forward, her dark hair shining in the moonlight, her calves contorting as if the heels of her bare feet were receding upward. “What…?” Carl began, but the words wouldn’t form.

The girl c****d her head to the side and glanced up at the light, no longer obscured by the clouds above. Her head didn’t move as her eyes set on Carl. “You freed me,” she said, her voice slight and airy, defiantly countering the visage he saw before him.

“We broke your chains,” Carl said, stammering as he spoke. “We thought someone had put you there.”

“So noble,” she said. Her eyes flicked to Denny. “And he was the one who carried me?” Carl nodded his head. “So sad. I should have controlled myself a bit more. Wait…” she took a step forward, one of her claws extended to brush against Denny’s skin. His eyes grew wide and he tried to pull away from her. Carl protectively knocked her hand away from him. The girl only smiled. “You were right to free me. I was wrong.”

“Wrong?” Carl repeated. His heart beat like a sledge hammer in his chest.

“Wrong to try and contain the beast. I chained myself in that hole. I thought it best to lock the beast away. But you, oh you are the sign that I was wrong. In spite of what has happened to this town, you and your friend found me, freed me and brought me out to stand beneath the light of the moon. You are the sign from on high, telling me that the beast must be free. And now,” she said, leaning in close to Carl, sniffing him as she closed her eyes. “It is as it should be.” Without warning, the girl drew four of her claws across Carl’s chest. Pain erupted as blood began to seep out of the gashes in his shirt. His pack dropped to the ground, its strap cut cleanly. Carl raised his knife but the girl cut another gash in his arm and then lifted him into the air. The knife slid from his limp hand and crashed into the dirt. The girl stood taller than he expected, tall enough to lift him fully off the ground. She sniffed him close, her eyes closed, as if she was taking in a scent. She opened her mouth to reveal sharp teeth, which immediately dug into his shoulder, tearing the flesh as blood poured out, soaking the left side of his torso.

She let out a scream and dropped Carl, who crashed to the ground in a heap, clutching his shoulder in agony. The girl-thing backed away, stumbling. When she tried coming forward, she limped heavily. Carl glanced around to see Denny holding Carl’s knife, which was now soaked in a dark liquid. He still lay as Carl had found him, but he was still holding the knife defensively.

Carl could do little more than shuffle backward near Denny as the girl-thing limped toward them, now noticeably taller than she could have been when Denny had carried her. Patches of fur clung to her feet, which now seemed more animal than human. She loomed over the two men, her eyes shining with that same, unnerving quality, her black hair reflecting the light of the moon. Her claws flexed and her teeth, now situated in what was increasing looking like a snout, were bared. But she stopped as her gaze rose above them and into the forest beyond. She said nothing as she backed away, limping, but less so than earlier. Without a word or sound, she turned and disappeared into the woods, tearing through thick overgrowth rather than taking the trail. The undergrowth quickly filled the hole she tore, leaving no evidence of her flight.

Grunting and gasping, Carl pulled himself to his feet. The pain in his shoulder was still shouting, but it had lessened enough to the point that he could tolerate it for now. His chest, likewise, was tolerable for the moment, and the gash in his arm was only a light graze, like an unnaturally long paper cut. With a groan, he leaned down and helped Denny to his feet. The taller man was in far worse shape. The gashes on his chest were deeper, the light of the moon glinting off rib bones in a few places. Denny nearly screamed as Carl helped him to stand. Denny’s arm wrapped itself around Carl’s shoulder as the shorter man helped him to walk slowly along the trail.

“What did she run from?” Denny asked.

“I’m not sure,” Carl lied. While helping Denny, he had glanced the dark forms in the woods, the enormous, animal shapes moving slowly but steadily toward them. Nothing about the shapes suggested anything humanoid, though Carl could see nothing beyond that confirmation. The two walked slowly, Carl trying to keep Denny from noticing the sound of heavy steps behind them, of underbrush being torn away and dead leaves and branches and wood being shuffled aside beneath enormous weight. Whatever had appeared out of the fog, whatever had followed it in from the swamp, it was following them, and while the two of them were becoming slower and slower, the things following them were not.

“I know what’s coming,” Denny gasped at last as the two of them rounded a long laying in the path. “Well, I don’t know exactly what it is, but I know it’s bad. I think it’s what Jesse was drawing out.”

“Drawing out?” Carl asked, his voice dry and cracking.

“The things he was saying,” Denny went on. Each word seemed to be an incredible strain for him. “I heard a bit of what he said. I think he drew out these things. I don’t know why.” Denny stopped, digging his feet into the ground so that the two could not continue. “I know they’re getting closer. We can’t outrun them, but you can.”

“Denny, I’m not leaving you behind!” Carl yelled, ignoring the fear of what could hear him. “We’ve left too many behind already.” He stifled a gasp for air, what could have become a sob. “I’m not leaving you, too.”

“I won’t make it back anyway,” Denny told him as he slid to the ground. Carl stooped down beside him. “I’m already on my way out, brother. At least this way, I can slow them down long enough for you to get away.”

“Are you insane?!” Carl asked. “Those things will eat you alive!”

“They won’t get a chance, I think,” Denny said, growing visibly weaker by the second. “Don’t argue with a dying man. Get back to town.” With that last sentence, Denny’s eyes unfocused and his hand dropped to the dirt. Carl laid him carefully against the side of the trail, propped against a tree, and closed the dead man’s eyes. He said a silent prayer, then got up and walked away, picking up speed as he moved. He hoped that if he moved fast enough, he could outrun the emotional wave chasing after him, and it seemed to work for a little while.

Dawn had just begun to break as the wounded form of Carl stepped out of the trees. He had been lost for a long while, but the beasts had never caught him. Most of his possessions were gone, save the knife which was stained in the girl-thing’s blood. He had never seen her again either, to his great relief. He had no desire to know where she’d gone other than away from him.

He rubbed the wound in his shoulder. It still bled when he overexerted himself, but that was rare now, though the whole thing burned, as did the gashes on his chest and even the thin cut on his arm. But he was free of the woods now, standing about a hundred yards from the highway with its abandoned cars. He stood atop that highway and surveyed what he could of the town. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the map from the mansion, the map of the town with its mysterious marker burned into it. He rubbed that place, carefully formulating what that place had become by his day. The place formed in his mind and he began to walk in that direction, though his mind still danced back to the mysteries of the previous night. “The mysteries consume us all,” he mumbled to himself, not even fully aware of the words; he had suffered delusional episodes in his run through the forest, and he assumed this strange utterance to be one of them. But then he thought on the words and his thoughts moved forward to what lay ahead. Perhaps that’s where the answers are, he thought to himself as he followed the map back into the recesses of his old town.