Dark Portal 1/Dark Portal 1.adf/TEXT/Bestial-4

Text File | 1992-09-02 | 23KB | 448 lines

@"BESTIAL INFLUX" (Part Four) By Andrew Campbell 1993



                                 -1-

 With purple stars blurring my vision, I waded over the edge of the bed
and cracked my knees on the carpet. A loose floor-board squealed loudly
beneath my weight.
 I reached the door with two painfully sore knees, stretched up, took
hold of the handle and turned it. The door silently swung open.
 Moaning with every painful shuffle, I manoeuvred out of the bedroom
and started for the lavatory. All I needed was a clean shot at the bowl
and I'd be able to throw up everything without having to worry about
cleaning up a mess.
 The bathroom came at last. I pushed the door open wide and slithered
in, holding my belly as tightly as I could. The pain had subsided but I
knew I still had to be sick.
 The toilet was partially hidden by the neck of the sink and I had to
trail deep into the room to find it. When at last I arrived there, I
gripped the slippery, ice-cold rim and eased my head over the edge. I
threw up in six coughing fits of pain and exhaustion. My vomit was thin
and runny but contained a lot of solids. I closed my eyes tightly as I
emptied the whole volume out of my system.
 When I was sure nothing more was to come, I pulled my head away from
the foul stench of the toilet and took a long breath of air. My eyes
didn't want to open but I forced them, and blinked away the frantic
pulsations of shock.
 Without warning, my breathing ceased.
 Down in the toilet, I could see thin yellow maggots.
# Lots of them.
 They were wriggling blindly, twisting and turning like living
spaghetti. The entire volume of the bowl was filled with them : a thick
stew of real live maggots.
 I wanted to hold my breath for ever and die. I wanted to fall asleep
and never wake up again. I wanted to blink and find myself in the arms
of my mother. But against my true wants and desires, my breathing
resumed and my eyes gradually retained their vision.
 It took me a long time to pull the handle and let the maggots flush
away down the toilet. When the drainage system stopped hissing and the
water in the bottom of the bowl calmed, I stood up and looked around.
 Everything seemed so horribly normal.
 It was as though the past few seconds of my life had never happened. I
suddenly realised that I was waiting for Shelley to rocket through the
door and push me away so that she could take a pee.
 Confused, I walked slowly out of the room.


                                 -2-

# 10:44 am.
 I unhooked Mum's phone and stared at it for a while. It was a simple
push-button affair made from smooth pink plastic with the digits
located in a central square on the reciever. I ran three trembling
fingers across the "9" digit, but applied no pressure.
 Ring someone, my mind chanted. Ring up one of those emergency lines
and just ask for advice. You don't have to ring the doctor if you don't
want, just try one of those lines where you talk to people.
 I was too frightened to call for an ambulance.
 The thick, cast-iron wall of fear that had steadily risen up since the
day of the Dark Operation, was now impenetrable. The visons of the
masked nurses, the unspeakably cruel Doctor Woodrow and his fellow
surgeons flashed through my head like bolts of lightning, reducing my
courage to rubble. They would creep into the house - Woodrow and his
team - with their scalpels, tweezers and face-masks... they would crawl
up by my side, the nurses smiling so horribly, the doctors' eyes
sparkling with enthusiasm... there would be no anaesthetic when they
sliced open my stomach to take out the maggots...I would watch them
extract reel after reel of my thick, glutinous organs, drenched with
worms, insects and vermin.
 My body shook so hard, the bed rattled and the phone slipped from my
grasp. I could feel things moving around in my stomach ; microscopic
sensations of maggots brushing against organs, tiny mouths feeding on
living tissue, disruptions amidst a chaotic battle for survival.
 "Oh Lord help me..." I prayed and grabbed the telephone again. I
snatched Mum's directory from the cabinet and whisked through several
pages. Only one of the numbers caught my eye.

#  "The Samaritans" - 24 hour emergency help-line for the suicidal and
#                     desperate.

 I punched in the first three numbers, listened to the soft, gentle
clicking, then slowly finished the code. I wasn't very experienced at
making phone calls and I had never dialed any of the emergency services
before.
 The phone rang twice, crackled, then picked up.
 "The Samaritans." a woman said softly. She sounded young and ready to
listen, but no words came from my mouth. The phone was jiggling around
in my hands, the bed was still rattling and a few hairs had fallen over
my face.
 I held my breath. Several silent seconds passed.
 "Hello?" the woman said. "Is anyone there?"
 I still couldn't make a noise. What was I to say, anyway? That I'd
just vomited up a stomachful of living maggots?
 "Is anyone there? Are you in trouble? Do you want to talk?"
 I gasped and dropped the phone onto my lap. It landed on it's back and
the young woman's gentle, alluring voice whispered up to me : "I heard
someone. Please talk."
 My trembling hands became tight fists, my eyes closed, my shuddering
ceased, I cleared my throat in two coughing wheezes. "My Mum'th gone."
I murmoured.
 "Your Mum?" The woman said. "You're very distant, please speak up."
 "Mum'th gone, Dad'th gone, Thelley'th gone."
 "Gone where? Are you stuck on your own somewhere? Do you want me to
call a relative for you?"
 "Don't call anyone."
 "Try and speak up love-"
 "I thaid don't fucking call anyone!" I sobbed. "Don't you dare."
 There was a pause, then the woman's voice came back. It was calmer
than before and contained a strange gentleness. I could imagine others
gathered around her, listening in, giving her advice.
 "Okay, sweet heart, you don't have to swear like that. I won't call
anyone. Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"
 I swallowed and wiped my eyes, staring at the phone (that had now slid
down between my legs) as though it were the Samaritan in person. My
mind assembled two eyes, a nose and a mouth from the shapes in the
receiver and I lifted a silly, pointless smile.
 "Whath your name?" I asked.
 "Catherine Slater. Call me Cathy. What's yours?"
 I hesitated. Should I tell her? Would she be able to track me down if
I gave my first name? Never ; there were millions of Linda's roaming
the planet. She wouldn't ever be able to find out which one was me.
 "My name'th Linda."
 "How old are you Linda?"
 "Fourteen."
 "Really?" she sounded genuinely suprised. "Is anyone home with you? Is
the house empty?"
 "No one'th here but me." I said. "And I'm feeling ill."
 "Oh." her voice became over-sympathetic. "Is it bad, Linda? Do you
want me to get you a doc-"
 "NO!" I shouted furiously. "No, you hear me? Don't call a doctor."
 "Shhh, it's alright, I won't do anything unless you say so, Linda. Do
you understand?"
 "Promith no doctor." I demanded.
 "I promise. Cross my heart, no doctor unless you say so. Okay?"
 "Yeth." I said, feeling slightly more relaxed. I had learned to ignore
the slitherings in my stomach. Cathy was here now, and she would talk
to me. She would make me forget all about the maggots. And she wouldn't
call the doctor because she'd promised, that was the most reassuring
thing.
 "Now listen to me Linda," she said. "Are you in any danger? Is there
someone bad... someone who's hurting you? Do you want to tell me about
it? Do you want me do give you some advice?"
 "Paul..." I whispered tearfully. "He..."
 "I really can't hear you, Linda. Don't swear at me. I just can't hear
you, I'm sorry."
 "Loth of thingth have happened to me." I said.
 "Tell me, Linda. I'll listen."
 "A...a boy..." I said. "My couthin..."
 "A boy did you say?"
 "Paul."
 "Paul? A boy called Paul? Is he with you now?"
 "No." I said quickly. "No, but Mum thaid he might come and vithit me."
 "Is Paul a bad boy, Linda? Is he nasty to you?"
 "He hurth me." I whispered.
 "Does he hit you?"
 "Yeth."
 "Is that all?"
 "No."
 "He touches you." Cathy said quietly. "Doesn't he?"
 "Yeth." I nodded pointlessly, my eyes staring into nothing.
 Cathy took a sharp breath and cleared her throat. "Listen to me very
carefully, Linda. Boys like Paul have to be caught and taken away,
because what they do is wrong. There's lots of girls like you, most of
them your own age. Nasty boys... sometimes fathers or step-fathers,
touch young girls, make them do dirty things and hurt them, so you are
not alone. And the best thing to do is tell someone about Paul. Tell
your Mum, or someone you love, someone you can really trust. If you
can't think of anyone, you can tell me, and I'll make sure Paul is
locked away for ever and ever. I swear it. Do you think you can do
that? Is there someone who might help you?"
 "I don't think tho." I said softly. "Paul pretenth to be nithe. He'th
got a thmiling mathk on, and no one thees patht it exthept me."
 "Do you want to tell me his name and address?"
 "I don't know if I thud or not-"
 Something smashed downstairs in the living room and my conversation
with Cathy abruptly ended.


                                 -3-

 I listened to the silence of the house, staring at the bedroom door,
expecting it to crash open at any minute.
 Everything was utterly and totally silent but I was left with the
deadly suspicion that someone else was in the house.
 I picked up the phone, re-dialed the Samaritans' number and listened
to the ringing whilst I stared at the bedroom door. I thought I saw it
glide inwards by a few centimetres and my eyes shot open wide, but then
I realised I had only imagined the movement.
 The ringing stopped.
 "The Samaritans." Cathy said.
 "There'th thome one in the houth with me." I whispered. "I heard them
down in the lithingroom."
 Cathy sighed briefly. "Linda... listen carefully, do you want me to
help you or not? If you do I need your address."
 "I can't thay where I am." I whispered plainly. "You'll be able to
find me if I tell you."
 "But Linda..." she trailed away. I had ideas that Cathy wasn't a very
experienced Samaritan.
 "Cathy, will..." my words trailed away : I noticed the bedroom door
move.
 "Linda?" Cathy said distantly, her voice feeble and tiny. "Linda?"
 The door began to open.
 "Please speak to me Linda." Cathy shouted. "Are you there?"
 I saw an arm, a shoulder, a pale, grinning face.
 "Linda? Linda talk to me. Come back."
 The door opened fully and shuddered on it's hinges. The dark
silhouette of a man, stood with his legs slightly apart and his arms by
sides came completely into view. He remained still for a while,
grinning broadly with big white teeth, staring wickedly through
cat-like eyes.
 "Linda answer me, please! Linda come back!"
 Hypnotised with terror, I slowly picked up the phone and eased it
against my lips.
 Several seconds later, I croaked, "Paul'th here."


                                 -4-

 I remained completely still as Paul walked into the room and closed
the door behind him. Cathy had stopped screaming now and all I could
hear was the dialing tone - a dull, everlasting noise.
 "Mummy and Daddy are out." Paul said softly, halting at the foot of
the bed. He was wearing a black leather jacket and a pair of pale blue
denims. "Well, I'm here to check up on you. We had a great time at the
party didn't we?"
 My teeth rattled.
 "I'm going to hurt you today," he said simply. "A lot."
 I closed my eyes to allow massive tears to escape. There was nothing
in my mind anymore except desperation ; no hope, no anger, no will to
live. Grown-up-Linda was on her knees now, after all the talk about
strength, she was down... begging for mercy.
 Paul began to enclose. I started to sob.
 "It's not your fault you're such an ugly bitch." he explained. "But
girls like you aren't worth anything. I'm afraid that's life, Linda.
The only thing you're good for is-"
 There was a loud bang downstairs and he swung around, looking like a
burgular caught in the act. I immediately stopped wailing and listened,
a faint glimmer of hope trying to burn in my heart.
 Had someone come to help me? Was it Mum, Dad or Shelley returned?
Perhaps Cathy had found me? Oh lord, I begged, please make someone be
here.
 "Who was that?" Paul demanded.
 I shook my head vigorously. "Don't know."
 "Don't bullshit me." he hissed without turning around.
 "I thwear I don't know!" I whimpered, edging backwards across the bed.
 Someone thumped a foot down on the staircase.
 "Shit." Paul whispered. "You clever bitch. Oh you clever bitch."
 Another thud. This one louder.
# Someone was coming upstairs.
 Paul swirled around and slashed his hand across my face. I fell back
onto the pillows. He began to pound his fists down onto my spine as
hard as he could, choking me of air and bruising my muscles. I began
to cough up blood all over Mum's pillow, some of it alive with yellow
maggots.
 "Bitch!" Paul screamed at me. "Fucking bitch! Bitch! Bitch!"
 He stopped, panting heavily.
 The footsteps were echoing like drums now : BANG... BANG... getting
louder, getting closer. The dialing tone of the discarded receiver
created a chilling atmosphere.
 "What the hell...?" Paul whispered fearfully. He had never heard
footsteps as loud and as oddly frightening as these before... it was
as though the person had three feet - three enormous feet attatched to
three immensely powerful legs.
 Coughing and spluttering, I managed to roll myself over. My pyjama's
had peeled back and my stomach was now exposed, but Paul wasn't
interested anymore. His eyes were locked on the bedroom door, his ears
were tuned to the booming footsteps. He was opening and closing his
fingers furiously, making tight fists then wide open palms. I watched
him through blurry eyes, then turned my attention to the door.
 The thudding stopped.
 "Come on in." Paul whispered softly. "Come in you big shit."
 The door remained closed.
 "Come on." he said a little louder. "Come on in." Then, after another
pause, he shouted ; "Come on in here you FUCK!"
 We both stared at the door as though trying to make it explode by
using the power of our minds. There was another noise in addition to
the dialing tone. A noise coming from outside in the hallway.
 It was breathing.
# Harsh, energetic breathing.

 Paul stood opening and closing his hands for a long time. Several
frightening seconds passed during which time he and I shared the very
same fear - we were completely petrified of what was in the house with
us.
 "Who the hell is it?" Paul whispered to me, his voice oddly lacking
aggression. His lips were quivering and his nostrils were expanding in
and out.
 "O-Open the door." I suggested.
 "Shut up." He snapped. "It's a trap isn't it?"
 "Huh?" I wiped a bead of blood from my chin. "No ith not."
 He stepped forwards, shuddered, stepped back. "Ah hell. Come on in
here you wimp. Come on. Show us who you are..."
 "Ith a monthter." I said quietly. "It'll kill uth both."
 Paul laughed dryly, "Yeah, right. Sure. It's a monster." he gave me a
repulsive look, then started for the door. I shuffled back across the
bed in anticipation.
 He grabbed the handle and flung the door open.
# There was nothing standing there.
 He chuckled, trying to disguise his incredible relief and I felt a
sharp blade of disappointment puncture my heart.
 The hallway was deserted - all the way back to the top of the
staircase - so if anyone (or anything) was up here, they/it would have
to be hiding in one of the other rooms ; Shelley's bedroom, my
bedroom, or the bathroom.
 "If you try and make a run for it, I'll kill you." Paul warned me,
then proceeded to stalk down the landing. He arrived at the door of
Shelley's room and kicked it open. He went inside, then came out a few
seconds later wearing the same baffled expression. He searched my room,
then the bathroom, then peered downstairs and called out a few times.
 "This house is fucking haunted." he commented as he marched back into
the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. "Now, I've wasted enough
time, so take your clothes off quickly. Come on, hurry you stupid
bitch."
 I shook my head, tears beginning to form again in my eyes.
 "Then I'll take them off for you." he pointed at me seriously. "Don't
make me hurt you more than is necessary. Comply and I'll be a bit more
gentle when I screw your ugly brains out."
 Silently crying, I began to take off my pyjamas. Full of impatience,
Paul gave me a helping hand by dragging mercilessly at my bottoms. I
was three-quarters naked when the bedroom door crashed open.
 Paul and I, both stunned with terror, heard a deep, menacing growl.
 The Creature from the woods came inside quickly and jerkily, like a
badly animated dinosaur model. It stood half an inch below the ceiling;
a semi-humanoid being with huge gaping jaws over-hanging from a thick,
snake-like neck.
 It's massive legs were half-bent at the knees, a gigantic tail lashed
between them, clipping the door randomly. It's two thin but muscular
arms were dark, long and glistening. Its chest was broad and looked
incredibly strong, and below, in it's stomach, was a bloated bag of
crimson skin, punctured centrally by a narrow, horizontal opening.
 From two small nostrils came white wisps of steam, accompanied by a
soft, deathly hiss. The Creature's head was enormous and unimaginably
repulsive. Like an angry dog, it's thin, slimey lips had curled back to
reveal teeth as big and as sharp as kitchen knives.
 Paul released his grip on my pants and turned around whilst I sat
shivering, eyes massive, heart pounding.
 "What... the... fuck..." he whispered faintly.
 The Creature angled it's grotesque head towards me and I jerked back
with sheer terror. It's eyes were black and shiny and contained no
pupils. A second passed, then Paul became the focus of attention.
Realising his imminent death, he wailed like an injured child.
 The Creature screamed with rage and fired forwards, mouth as wide as
a crocodile. It munched into Paul's face with a squelch and a crack,
bleaching itself with his steaming blood. Still alive and shrieking,
Paul keeled over and bounced onto the bed beside me, his face now
gone - in it's place, a crimson skull entwined with spurting, severed
veins. His mouth was wide open and he was screaming and gurgling at
the same time.
 Two seconds later, he was up again, this time dragged by his legs. The
Creature shook him in it's jaws like a doll, blurring his screams,
then launched him through the bedroom door - three feet from the
carpet. He collided with the sloping roof above the stairs. His
screams were silenced. He flopped down the staircase, ritting rise
after rise, and landed at the bottom with a sickening thud.
 The dialing tone buzzed distantly.
 In sharp, frightening movements, the Creature grunted with
satisfaction and whooshed around. I ducked to avoid it's enormous
tail, which whistled through the air and toppled the contents of Mum's
dressing table. It bolted out of the bedroom - destructive tail
vanishing last - and the door slammed closed behind it.
 Still transfixed, I listened as the odd tri-footsteps faded downstairs
and the noise of what I could only imagine to be flesh tearing, became
very faintly audible.


                                 -5-

 At two o'clock when I was tucked up in bed - still shivering and
sobbing - the phone rang and I picked it up.
 "Linda darling?" It was Mum. "Are you there, sweetie?"
 I licked my dry lips and swallowed. "Yeh."
 "Is everything alright? Did you get my little note?"
 "Yeh."
 "Had dinner?"
 "Yeh."
 "Oh, you sound tired petal." she chuckled. "We've just arrived in the
Isle of Man. It's a lovely day pumpkin. Should be fine in Stone Bridge
too. Why don't you sun bathe a bit in the garden?"
 "Might do."
 "How are you feeling?"
 "Okay."
 "Has Paul been yet?"
 "Yeth." I said, raising a cruel smile. "But he'th gone now."
 "Oh, that was a short stay wasn't it? Did you have a good time?"
 "Wonderful." I found my smile growing. "Utterly wonderful."
 "Oh smashing! He's a hunky darling isn't he!" Mum squealed cheerfully,
obviously hoping for a hot romance. I considered reminding her that he
was my cousin (or my half-cousin, I wasn't sure), but I thought it
rather pointless now : he was dead, so what did it matter? The Black
Creature had torn his smiling mask off once and for all. Paul was never
going to hurt me again. Never ever, ever.
 "Any post this morning?" Mum said.
 "No." I told her, though I really wasn't sure. I hadn't gone down-
stairs yet, and I had no intention of doing so either.
 "Do you want to talk to Shelley or Dad? I can ask them-"
 "Ith okay. Have a good time."
 "Well, we will." Mum said, voice full of guilt. "Just make sure you
have a good time too. We've been thinking about you. You've got our
number haven't you, if you want to talk to us. I'd better go - Mr
Cockroft's bill will be huge."
 "Bye Linder!" Shelley yelled distantly and Mum began to giggle.
 "See you monday evening." she said. "I love you, darling."
 "Love you too." I whispered feebly.
 "Oh honey..." Mum breathed out. "I'm so glad you said that. I thought
you'd thrown me out of your life. We'll be home soon and after that, we
won't ever leave you unless it's absolutely necessary. That's a
promise. Just a few more days. Bye bye honey..."
 "Bye Mum."
 "Ring you later."
 "Okay."
 "Look after the house."
 "I will."
 "And not too much TV."
 "Okay Mum."
 "Have a nice afternoon."
 "Uhuh."
 "Bye then."
 "Bye."
 "Bye love."
 "Bye."
 I planted the phone back in it's cradle and felt the silence of the
house creep back into my ears. I began to reach for the phone again,
desperate to hear someone's voice ; to break out of the cage of
loneliness in which I was trapped. My eyes wandered to the bedroom door
and remained there, huge with fear.
 It might come back at any time, I thought. It might come back and
decide to rip off your face, just as it did Paul's. My God, it was so
huge... how can anyone possibly hope to escape from something so
terrible? Isn't there anything I can do...?
 I suddenly felt incredibly hungry.
 There was plenty of food in the house. Mum had made up some of my
favourite cheese and lettuce sandwiches, probably daubed up with thick
mayonnaise and chunks of tomato. There was fresh milk, yogurt, sliced
brown bread plastered with creamy butter, chocolate biscuits... a whole
manner of scrumptious delights.
 But they were all contained in the kitchen.
 And the kitchen was downstairs.


?                      THAT'S ALL YOU'RE GETTING.

# Want to find out what happens to Linda? Write to me for parts five
# and six! Alternatively, wait for the second edition of DARK PORTAL,
# when all will be revealed.