Horror Sensation/HORROR.iso/stories/5.txt

Text File | 1980-11-27 | 34KB | 626 lines

@ BESTIAL INFLUX (Part5)

# By Andrew Campbell 1993
# Continued from DARK PORTAL Edition One...


 It took me an hour and twenty minutes to build up the courage to
venture out of the bedroom. I found Mum's pink dressing gown in her
wardrobe and put it on. Moments later I was gradually opening the door
with my trembling hands, crooking my back slightly to ease the pain of
the bruising I had acquired.
 The landing was bare, silent and empty, but the wide-open doors at
either side were threatening. Directly in front of me, on the ceiling
above the stairs, I could see a large splattering of blood.
 Paul's blood.
 I was still staring up at the gory mess when I reached the top of the
staircase, at which point my eyes averted down and focused on a pale
flower-patterned rug at the bottom. There was more blood, thicker,
darker and more concentrated, and it trailed off in a wavy stream
towards the living room.
 I descended each rise with incredible quietness, all the time listening
for hostile sounds and scanning for dark movements. There weren't any
though, which made me all the more frightened ; the Black Creature was
either asleep... or watching me from some unseen hiding place.
 My stomach was aching again when I tip-toed into the kitchen. Hunger
was shaking hands with my fear it seemed, and the resulting pain made
me feel dizzy and breathless.
 I opened the door of the refrigerator and took out a plateful of
cheese and lettuce sandwiches, neatly wrapped in cling-film. There
were two unopened bottles of fresh milk, which I took out and cuddled
under my dressing gown.
 Before leaving the kitchen, I raided the biscuit tin, filled my
pockets with chocolate bars from the wall-mounted cupboards, and
emptied the bread-bin of three loaves.
 Clutching my loot, I began for the stairs again, listening even more
intensely to the creaking of the house. When I passed the slightly open
door of the living room, I could smell fresh meat, but I didn't stop to
investigate.
 I plonked one foot on the bottom step, glanced behind to make sure I
wasn't being pursued, then hurried upwards. I ran down the landing,
trying to ignore those enigmatic doors, reached my parents' bedroom and
skidded to a halt, gasping for air.
 The door was firmly closed.
# I had purposely left it open.
 Hanging on to the bulk of food tucked under my robe, I took several
steps nearer, listening for inside noises. Everything was silent
except for my thumping heart and my wheezy breathing.
 Could the Creature be in there right now, on the bed, feasting on the
remains of Paul's mutilated body... waiting for my return?
 I touched the handle, then whipped my hand away as though it were
boiling hot. Shivering, I tried again, this time the door swung open
under my control and I took a bold step forwards.
 There was nothing on the bed except the muddled quilt and several
blood-soaked pillows, littered with dead maggots.
 I closed the door behind me and leapt onto the bed, spilling the
provisions in a messy heap. I sat in silence for a few moments,
listening acutely to the house.
 As usual, I heard nothing at all.

                                   *

 At five o'clock I wasn't hungry ; I was bored.
 The bed was cluttered with plates, crumbs, empty milk bottles, smears
of chocolate and half-chewed crusts of bread. Down on the floor beside
Mum's cabinet was a reddish-yellow pile of vomit, alive with thin worms
and shiny, black-headed maggots.
 I simply stared up at the ceiling and began to hum a pointless
Christmas carol.
 Thinking...
 I wasn't going to ring Cathy again, because she wouldn't be able to
help me. She would only send Doctors, Nurses and Policemen, and I'd be
taken away to be experimented on. She would call Doctor Woodrow and -
just like last time - I would be awake when the scalpels cut through my
skin.
 I picked up the phone and began to dial randomly, writing down the
codes in Mum's directory for possible future use. After a series of
hopeless answers from corner shops, grumpy old men and busy housewives,
I managed to find, through some unexplainable twist of fate, a group of
kids my own age. It was a young boy who answered the call.
 "Ghost Hunters, how can I help you?"
 Startled, I removed the phone from my ear and looked at it.
 "Hello?"
 "Can I thpeak to thomeone older?" I asked.
 "Look girlie, do you want some help or what? This is an emergency line
here. We don't like prank callers." There was a lot of giggling and
coughing.
 "Hello?" someone else said suddenly. "Hello? I'm sorry about that. My
name's Robert Haig and if you're serious about a ghost problem, I'd
like to hear all about it."
 Robert sounded a bit older and more mature.
 "I don't have a ghoth," I said. "I juth want thome company."
 "Oh." he coughed. "Damn. False alarm, dudes." There was a moan in the
background. "You know, you're the first caller we've had since we put
the ad in the paper."
 "Ad?" I inquired. "What for?"
 "Ghost Hunters." Robert said boldy. "We're quite confident we can get
rid of absolutely any paranormal activity. Before you laugh and slam
the phone down, we've kicked seven ghost's arses, but that was before
we decided to go into business."
 "How old are you?" I asked him.
 He chuckled. "Does it matter how old I am?"
 "Pleathe tell me." I said.
 "Sixteen in December and don't you dare say I'm inexperienced."
 "I wathn't going to."
 He paused. "You weren't?"
 "No." I smiled to myself. "You're older than me."
 "I am? Who the hell is this?"
 "My nameth Linda and I'm fourteen."
 There was a pause, some muttering in the background, then a series of
loud cheers and whistles. "We do discount for chicks!" someone yelled.
 "Ignore them." Robert said and the noise died away. "So er, what is it
you want from us exactly?"
 "Juth someone to talk to." I said. "I'm alone right now. Well... thort
of alone... and I'm thcared."
 "Do you have any reason to believe there's a ghost in your house?"
 "Not a ghoth." I said uneasily. "But..."
 "What?"
 "Well, I don't think I thould tell you. You might get hurt."
 "What might hurt me, Linda?" he sniggered.
 "You're taking the pith out of me." I said morbidly.
 "Hey, no way. If you need help, we'll come." Robert persisted. "Do you
live in Stone Bridge?"
 "Yeth."
 "Brensefield?"
 "I-I'm not telling you." I said. "You might try and find me."
 "Well, isn't that what you want?"
 "But it'll kill you, juth like it killed Paul."
 Robert's voice became low and serious. "Someone's been killed?"
 "Yeth, by a monthter."
 "A monster?" he said excitedly. "Can you tell me where it is, Linda?"
 "You mean you believe me?" I said, bewildered that a boy would take me
seriously even in the slightest bit.
 "Sure." he almost laughed. "I mean, we've seen things that would scare
you shitless, isn't that right lads?" There was a loud, chaotic cheer
of acknowledgement. "A monster? No problem. Tell us your address and
we'll be right over-"
 "No way." I said sharply. "You can't get rid of it."
 "Well, no offence," Robert said. "But what did you ring us for besides
to chat? Do you want our services or not, Linda? We've got other more
important things to do, you know."
 I remained silent, replaying Paul's face tearing away from his skull
through my mind. Hearing his screams and gurgles. Ducking that enormous
tail. Watching the Creature dart out of the room quicker than a lion
pouncing for a bird.
 "I don't want your thervices. I'm thorry."
 "Hey wait," Robert said quickly. "I didn't mean to sound-"
 I hung up.

                                   *

 Dad rang me at eight o'clock and I tried to keep him on the phone for
as long as I could. Whilst I spoke to him, my eyes wandered to the
dying worms and maggots splattered on the carpet beside the bed. For
the first time I noticed they had tiny stumps just below their heads,
and another pair near the lower end of their bodies. For a few moments,
I spoke to my father mechanically, simply answering his questions with
"yes" or "no", never really thinking about what he was saying.
 As night crept in and the house grew darker, I began to realise the
true terror hiding behind my situation. I was alone in an old farm
house on the outskirts of Stone Bridge with a gigantic monster from
God-knows where lurking in the shadows.
 Without warning, I began to fear my mother's wardrobe. I imagined the
Thing hiding in there, breathing, waiting for me to drift to sleep,
grinning with those razor-sharp teeth...
 The curtains came next and I gasped in fright when they waved around,
caught in some eerie draft from the chilly night air. I saw myself walk
to the window and pull back the curtains... I saw the Black Creature
screaming at me through the glass, it's jaws clotted with Paul's flesh,
it's eyes black and lifeless...
 I sensed movement under the bed, something waiting for me to cuddle up
to the pillows and drift to sleep so that it could slide a scaly black
hand up from under the head-board...
 Mum's dressing table mirror reflected the Creature, it's arms wide
open ready to crush me like an insect. It hissed and snarled and beat
it's tail on the floor excitedly ; calling me to come closer, allowing
me glimpses of it's innards through that unexplainable opening in it's
stomach. For a shocking split-second, I saw Paul's dead face stare back
at me from inside the Creature's belly, his eyes huge and his mouth
hung open in a perfect 'O'.
 Crying and screaming whilst the illusionary terrors haunted me, I
snatched the phone once more and dialled.
 "Pleathe..." I whimpered when it began to ring. "Pleathe God..."
 "Ghost Hunters, how can I help-"
 "Robert!" I gasped.
 "Linda is that you again?"
 "HELP MEEE!" I screamed. "Robert pleathe help me! I'm thcared! It'th
going to GET me when I go to thleep, I know it ith. Pleathe come and
help me get out of the houthe, PLEAAATHH..."
 "Where do you live?" he demanded. "We'll come right away. Chip! Get me
a piece of paper will ya-"
 "Hurry." I whispered, sniffling and smearing away my tears. "I live at
Rothendale Cottage at Black Hill, do you know where that ith?"
 "Yes! We're just ten minutes away!"
 "Run," I begged. "Run ath fatht ath you can!"
 "We're coming. All of us." he said firmly. "We won't let you down
Linda, that's a promise. Now stay calm, try not to get scared."
 "I can't help it."
 "Breathe deeply. Close your eyes."
 "Juth hurry."
 "Ten minutes."
 "Okay."
 He hung up.

                                   *

 They did come.
 I watched them approaching from my bedroom window - four distant heads
bobbing up and down against a dark purple sky.
 As they came nearer, I began to fear for them.
 My thirst for company - someone to talk to and be with - destroyed all
thoughts of turning them away. The night was so lonely and frightening
and full of horror, sleep was the furthest thing from my mind.
 The boys gradually became larger and more distinguishable. I observed
their backpacks, their waving, dancing hair, pumping arms, wind-blown
clothes and their fast, determined strides.
 I felt like a princess ; four big, strong, heroic men charging to my
rescue, risking their lives for the sake of saving mine.
 I abruptly emerged from my fantasy when they knocked on the door.
 I replaced the curtains and skipped out into the upstairs hall,
vaguely aware that I was still dressed in my "Care Bear" Pyjama's.
 They knocked again, this time more eagerly and loudly.
 "Linda!" one of them shouted. "Can we come in?"
 I walked to the top of the stairs and peered into the gloom.
 "Robert?" I called, my voice echoing.
 "I'm here!" he shouted. "The door's unlocked, I'm gonna come in, is
that alright Linda? Just shout to me."
 "Okay!" I called excitedly, my eyes filling with joyous tears. I heard
the door swing open and whispery voices disturb the silence. A few
moments later, shadows began to seep across the walls and the stairs
began to creak and moan.
 There was enough remaining light for me to be able to see their faces
quite clearly. The first boy that came into view was tall, thin and
dressed in a red sports shirt and blue jeans. In one hand he was
carrying a torch, in the other he brandished a seven inch survival
knife.
 I stumbled backwards upon seeing the weapon.
 "Hey, it's alright." he said, sliding it into his belt. "I won't
hurcha. I'm puttin it away, see?"
 Another boy emerged, a pale, long-faced kid with freckles and a
crew-cut. He was wearing a green military vest packed with tools and
weapons, his arms were bare and reasonably muscular and he was chewing
gum. "Negative disturbance." he muttered.
 "Cut the shit." the boy in front sniggered. "Don't mean nothin'
anyway."
 I shuffled back towards the bedroom door, thinking of what my parents
would say if they knew I was alone in the house with four young lads.
 A third boy scuttled into view from the stairs. He was small, chubby
and by the look of him, out of breath. He tapped the pale-faced kid
on the shoulder and said, "Peterson heard somethin in the livin room."
 "Haig?" The pale kid said hesitantly.
 The boy dressed in the red sports shirt nodded. "You and Chip check it
out. Tell Peterson to get his arse up here."
 "Gotcha." the pale kid nodded and darted downstairs again with the
plump boy.
 I watched as the last member of the gang emerged from the stairs
holding what looked like a farmer's shot gun. His eyes briefly engaged
mine and we exchanged smiles.
 "What is happening Chief?" he said, resting the gun over his shoulder.
 Robert began to fumble in his pockets for something as he spoke.
"Check the bedrooms will you, Peterson?"
 "All right."
 Now that the house was alive with human activity - movement, opening
doors, gentle footsteps - I became more confident and aware of myself.
I watched Peterson with wide, anxious eyes as he searched the bathroom,
Shelley's room and then my own. Robert found what he was looking for -
a medical aspirator - just as Peterson stepped in front of me.
 "Hello." he said. "Can I check out that door behind you?"
 "Uhuh." I nodded and edged away nervously. He was a tall boy with
curly black hair and a soft, handsome face. He was wearing an enormous
cream-coloured trench coat, unbuttoned to expose a dark chequered shirt
and black trousers. Even though he looked little older than me, I could
smell pleasing aftershave.
 "I shall not be long." he smiled as he strode past me, his coat waving
like a cape.
 Still standing in the hallway, Robert inhaled two portions of his
medicine then gasped exhaustingly. "Jesus Christ." he muttered as he
pocketed the aspirator. He looked up and saw me staring. "I've got
asthma if you didn't guess." he said. "I did like you asked and ran
all the way here."
 "We can't find shit, Haig!" One of the lads called from downstairs.
 "Secure the front door..." he ordered breathlessly.
 "What the hell for?"
 "Just do it." he grinned at me and winked. "I love being in control."
 Peterson came out of my parents' bedroom and gave me an asking glance.
Robert wiped his mouth and took a few steps forward. "Find anything?"
 "This." Peterson said and handed Robert a small crumpled up piece of
paper. I identified it instantly ; it was Mum's note.
 Robert uncreased it and began to read aloud. "Dear Princess Linda..."
he looked up at me and chuckled. "Is this for real?"
 "Ith from my mum." I said. "She left it bethide the bed. I found it
when everyone had gone."
 Robert read the note, handed it to Peterson and waited for him to
finish. "What do you reckon then, Brains?" he asked.
 Peterson looked at me. "Who is this Paul character?"
 "He wath a bad boy." I said slowly.
 "Was?" Robert said. "What do you mean, 'was'?"
 "He'th dead now." I said simply. "The monthter killed him."
 Peterson and Robert exchanged glances.
 "Anything else in the bedroom?" Robert asked.
 Peterson squinted. "Except for a generous proportion of dead maggots
intermingled with dried blood and vomit, I would say nothing of
particular interest."
 "Dead maggots?" Robert shifted his brows slightly. "I think I'll take
a look if you don't mind-"
 "One moment, Chief."
 "What's up?"
 "We seem to have missed an explosion of blood on the roof opposite."
 Imitating Shelley by biting my nails, I watched as Robert turned
himself around and stared up at the splodge on the ceiling above the
stairs. He angled his head at me. "Do you know anything about that?"
 I nodded. "Ith Paul."
 Robert glanced at Peterson (who shrugged), then looked at me again.
 "How did his blood get up there?"
 "The Black Creature threw him out of the bedroom." I pointed to the
door behind Peterson and waved my hand at the stairs. "Juth like that,
lobbed him by hith legth. He thmacked into the roof and fell down the
thtaircathe-"
 "Are you keepin us stood here forever?" one of the lads grumbled again
from down below. "We're getting pissed off."
 "Shut your mouth, Chip." Robert called. "We're coming down in a sec."
 Peterson turned to me and said, "Linda? Where did the maggots come
from? Do you know?"
 "I don't know." I lied, too frightened to tell him the truth about my
condition.
 "Is that Paul's blood in there too?" he asked.
 I shrugged and looked down at the floor. "I don't know."
 "You said the Black Creature," Robert said thoughtfully, rubbing his
chin in a professional manner. "Was this thing transparent? Like a kind
of ghostly apparition?"
 I shook my head.
 "Do you think you could just have been dreaming it up?"
 I shook my head again.
 "Well, I don't want to sound rude or anything but... we don't seem to
have found-"
 "Give her a break." Peterson interjected. "There is blood everywhere,
dead maggots on the floor, do you not think we should remain here, at
least for a while? Search the place more thoroughly?"
 Robert looked at me suspiciously. "This could be a joke-"
 "Come off it, Chief." Peterson stuck up for me patiently. "I think we
should at least stay for an hour. What if Linda is right and there is a
creature here? We have got the camera, the equipment, plenty of time.
It is the summer holidays after all."
 I gave Peterson a tiny smile. He winked at me.
 "Well, okay." Robert sighed and shrugged at the same time. He was just
as professional at sounding depressed as he was at rubbing his chin.
"Didn't you say you wanted us to get you out of the house?"
 I glanced at Peterson. "Well... it might not allow uth to."
 "What might not?" Robert said.
 "The Black Thing, Chief," Peterson answered for me. "Which is why I
think it might be a good idea if we remained here for a while before we
do anything major, like try to rescue Linda."
 "But the door's just downstairs. All we have to do is-"
 "I know it sounds easy," Peterson said. "But what if this thing turns
up before we have chance to exit?"
 Robert chuckled. "What you're suggesting is that this creature is
watching us right now. It knows what we're doing."
 "Yes, I am suggesting that." Peterson said.
 "Sounds to me like a non-standard spook." Robert said, turning and
heading for the stairs. "I'll get the others to come up for a moment
whilst we sort all the assigning crap out."
 When he was out of sight, Peterson nudged me gently. "Hey," he said.
"I stuck up for you."
 "Thankyou." I gave him an innocent glance. He wasn't that much bigger
than me, which made it all the more difficult to avoid eye contact. He
was quite happy to chat and make conversation, but I was as nervous as
hell. I wondered if he thought I was ugly or not, considered asking
him, then dismissed the idea completely.
 "You do not seem to talk much." he said.
 I sniffed, staring at my bare feet, wiggling my toes.
 "Perhaps you would care to guess my age."
 "Fourteen?" I suggested almost straight away, then blushed a little,
thinking of how silly my voice sounded.
 "A bit older." he said.
 "Fifteen."
 "More."
 "Thixteen?" I said, surprised. "No you aren't."
 "Yes I am. My birthday was three days ago." he said. "I would be
honoured if you would wish me a happy birthday."
 "Happy birthday," I giggled.
 He gave a soft triumphant cheer. "The lady laughed!"
 "No I didn't." I said.
 "Then what was that sound you made?"
 "I coughed."
 Robert came back upstairs with his two friends trailing behind. "This
is Chip," he pointed vaguely to the smallest boy and then to the pale
one with the skin head. "And this ugly dude is King. We're staying for
a while."
 "There's nothing here, Haig." Chip protested.
 "He's right." King added. "We searched every room. There's blood all
over the place, but there ain't no dead bodies or ghosts."
 "Does that not strike you as odd?" Peterson leaned against the bedroom
door frame and lowered his gun to the carpet.
 Chip shrugged. "Either we've missed a massacre of gigantic proportions
or this is some kind of hoax."
 "I'm not playing a game with you." I said. "I promith."
 "How do we know that?" King snapped.
 "She ain't gonna be able to pay for us helping-"
 "-all the way out here for no reason at all-"
 "-and this place is full of-"
 "Shut up!" Robert shouted. "For God's sake, shut the fuck up. We'll
hang around for a bit, maybe grab a bite from the fridge if Linda would
be so kind to allow us..." he looked at me askingly and I nodded.
"Great. Now stop complaining and stay on your guard. This place is
creepier than the bogs at Stone Bridge High."
 "Suppose we got downstairs shift." King grumbled, nudging Chip.
 "What's so good about being up here?" Robert asked.
 King glanced at me and snorted. "I guess nothing in this dump."
 Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peterson's gaze shift to me
momentarily. I remained still and quiet.
 "Any further insults," Robert warned. "I'll make sure you're the bait
for this motherfucker when we find it."
 "Yeah, yeah." King shook his head and trundled away downstairs again,
Chip following him without so much as a word. I assumed the thought of
food had sealed his outburst of complaints.
 "Miserable bastards." Robert commented and smiled at me. "Now who
would you prefer to watch over you whilst you grab some kip?"
 I looked at Peterson immediately. Robert laughed.

                                   *

 At twenty past ten, I sat up and adjusted my eyes to the darkness.
 Peterson was crouched in the open doorway, his shotgun propped against
his right shoulder, a silver coin bouncing from one hand to the other.
 "Are you thtaying there all night?" I asked him softly.
 He turned his face to me and made his coin vanish. Even though I
couldn't properly see his expression, I knew it was either a warm smile
or a pleasant grin. "I was planning on staying here until morning,
yes." he said.
 I pulled back the covers and scrambled out of bed. My stomach was
hurting badly, but I ignored the pain. Feeling quite confident, I sat
down opposite Peterson and cuddled my knees upto my chest. The landing
was long, dark and scary, but I showed no fear in front of the boy.
 Muffled laughter came from downstairs.
 "Robert and the others are playing cards." Peterson informed me. "They
are all scared, you know."
 "Th-they don't theem to be." I whispered, shivering.
 "Go back to bed." he smiled. "You look very tired."
 "I cuh-can't thleep."
 The boys laughed downstairs again.
 "You'll catch cold."
 "Don't." I waved a hand. "You thound like my mum."
 "Mums tend to know best."
 "Not my mum."
 "Oh? Do you want to talk about that?"
 "No."
 "Alright. What do you want to talk about?"
 More laughter from below.
 "You." I grinned and cuddled myself harder. "Whath your real name?"
 "Everyone calls me Peterson."
 "Whath your firth name?"
 "James. But don't call me that."
 "Why?"
 "Because only my parents call me James."
 "Thath pretty thilly, Jameth."
 His eyes twinkled. "You sound as cute as you look." he said and I bit
into my pyjamas with incredible surprise. I didn't answer for a while
because my mind needed a long time to register such a compliment. It
was a remark I knew I wouldn't ever forget. We stared at each other for
a moment whilst laughter flared up from below.

 Something smashed in the livingroom.
 Peterson glanced toward the staircase. "Sounds like they broke an
ornament. I wondered how long it would take."
 "Where are they?" I asked, easing my legs down.
 "I suspect they are all in the kitchen."
 "Did the noise come from-"
 "Shit!" Robert yelled distantly. "Chip, you fucking useless bugger!"
 "I'll make sure they pay for any damage." Peterson said. "I can take
charge of these idiots if I really... want... to..." he noticed that my
eyes had wandered down the landing. "What is the matter?"
 I watched the door of Shelley's room open by itself.
 "Linda?" he leaned forwards and reached out.
 My blood transformed into ice and a gigantic scream froze in my
throat.
 Peterson frowned. "Hey, are you-"
 "Looook..." I whispered softly and pointed with a trembling finger.
 Peterson's eyes followed and became huge. His face contorted and a
thin drool of saliva escaped his mouth.
 Stood dominantly in the hallway, the Black Creature kicked open the
door of the bathroom and launched itself inside using it's muscular
back legs. A second later, only it's enormous tail could be seen,
whipping at the walls and slapping the carpet, then that vanished
too and the door slammed closed.
 Everything was silent again.
 "Linda," Peterson whispered, clutching his shot gun. "We are in very
serious trouble."
 "It went into the bathroom..." I said and stared at Peterson as though
waiting for him to explain the reason why. "Did-did you thee it? Did
you theeeee it?" I shuffled across the carpet towards him.
 He nodded, staring at the door through which it had vanished. A
shaking hand wiped away spit from his chin. "We have to get down to the
others. We have to warn them that there is something here." I noticed
his voice was low and crackly.
 "Why did it go into the toilet?" I asked him, wanting to laugh, but
not quite finding enough humour.
 "I think urination was the last thing it had in mind." Peterson said
and knelt up. "Now, I want you to come with me. I am going to get you
out of the house as quickly as possible-"
 "No." I said sharply. "It might kill you."
 "Linda, you cannot stay here." he hissed. "I do not know where you
managed to find that creature, I have never seen anything like it
before, but I am not leaving you here with it."
 There was laughter from the boys downstairs.
 "Peterthen," I said sharply. "It ripped Paul'th fathe off. It bit into
his head and tore his fathe right off. If it catcheth you, it might do
the thame."
 "Do you know why it killed Paul?" he asked.
 "He wath going to hurt me." I whispered and shivered, the horrible
memories  of Paul returning. "He thouted at me really loud before it
came in-"
 "Then we will do this properly." Peterson interrupted and stood up,
dragging his gun from the floor. "I most certainly have no intentions
of ever hurting you, and we will both be as quiet as mice."
 "Hey Peterson!" Robert called from downstairs. "Wanna game of cards?"
 There was a rumbling, thumping noise in the bathroom and I grabbed
Peterson's hands. He lifted me onto my feet and hugged me closely.
 "We can't risk an answer." he whispered in my ear.
 "What if it..." he gently placed his hand across my mouth and smiled.
Instinctively, I kissed his palm, but it was such a gentle peck he
didn't notice.
 "Peterson!" Robert bellowed. "If you've fallen asleep asshole, I'll
be pouring cold water down your Y-fronts..."
 Something thumped against the bathroom door again, this time louder,
and thought I heard that recognisable, wolf-like growl.
 "Jesus Christ..." Robert said and began to ascend the stairs. I
tensed and pressed myself up against Peterson. He cuddled me tighter.
 "I bet I know where you are..." Robert said as he came trundling up
the staircase. "You're in bed with Linda aren't you? Ahhh, you sly old
shit, you're frantically putting your clothes back on!" he began to
laugh heartily at his own joke.
 The bathroom door crashed open. Peterson's grip on me tightened more
than ever and I felt his body begin to shudder.
 "Oh god I feel sick..." Robert moaned and came up the last few steps
with his head down and both hands gripping the bannister. He tripped,
retained balance, then stood limply at the top of the stairs, beaming
at us both.
 Shivering, Peterson placed a finger over his lips and shook his head,
nodding towards the staircase, trying to indicate it would be a wise
move to use it.
 "What's wrong with you two?" Robert said and his voice echoed.
 The Black Creature lunged out of the bathroom, feet banging on the
carpet like cast-iron weights. Our view of Robert was completely
obscured by the Creature's bulk as it swung around to face him, head
hung low, legs bent, arms held wide and open. It growled and snarled
and released a long funnel of yellowish vapour from it's nostrils.
 "Robert?" Peterson called calmly. "Go downstairs would you?"
 There was no reply. The Black Creature over-shadowed his form, and we
watched with growing terror as it's tail began to smack the floor
rapidly.
 Without warning, Peterson threw me away, stepped out into the middle
of the hallway and aimed his gun. "Hey you!" he shouted and the
Creature bolted around, it's tail sending Robert tumbling down the
staircase.
 "Peterthen, NOOOO!" I screamed.
 The Black Creature's eyes engaged mine, then fixed on Peterson.
 Shaking the turret up and down mindlessly, he pulled the trigger and
blew a hole in the floorboards. Splinters of wood and plumes of blue
smoke swirled around the Black Creature's legs. It swung it's head
down, scrutinised the damage, then flicked it's head back up.
 There was a brief moment of quiet, during which King shouted up from
the livingroom : "What the FUCK is going ooooon?"
 The Creature snarled and leaned backwards, then sprung at Peterson,
mouth open, ready to bite off his face. I pressed myself up against
the wall and closed my eyes as the terrifying monster soared past me,
creating a cold draft that tousled my hair.
 Peterson was thrown back against the bedroom door, which crashed
inwards and squealed off it's hinges. I followed the Creature inside,
feeling the end of it's tail snaking between my ankles.
 Just as I entered, Peterson slammed against the bedroom wall and held
his shot gun up horizontally. Without hesitation, the Creature rocketed
forwards and enclosed it's jaws around the metal obstruction, narrowly
missing his wrists, sliding it's nose further and further down until it
came into contact with Peterson's cheek. It growled furiously and
snorted yellowish-white steam into his face, making him splutter and
choke and weaken his resistance.
 "Leave him alone!" I cried and staggered into the room, my eyes blurry
with tears. "Just leave him alone!"
 Peterson slid down the wall, holding the gun high, straining as the
Creature's gargantuan jaws munched through the metal of the weapon.
It's mouth was now open wide enough to bite off his head, and as his
face reddened and his body shrank to the floor, I feared that he would
suffer that very fate.
 Propelled by anger, I ran forwards and began to kick the Creature's
sides. It's skin felt dry and coarse against my bare feet, and it was
so hard and impenetrable, I felt as though I was attacking a block of
concrete.
 Just as Peterson's gun snapped in half and the Creature's jaws came
down to take his life, there were two shouts from the hallway. I swung
around simultaneously with the Black Creature. We both saw King and
Chip already screaming and fleeing toward the staircase.
 The Creature shrieked and roared thunderously at them but to my
terror, swung back around to finish off Peterson.
 Desperate to save him, I fell forwards beneath the creature's open
mouth and covered the boy as much as I could, making sure that to kill
him... this demon had to kill ME.
 Sharp teeth pressed lightly into my back. Breath heated my skin. But
I remained still, my arms locked around Peterson's neck, my body
pressed flat against his.
 The Creature snarled loudly in an attempt to scare me away. I closed
my eyes and buried my head into Peterson's shirt, trying to block out
the noise and control my fear.
 Gently, it began to nuzzle me in the side, trying to gain access to
the boy beneath. I clung to him, leaning in which ever direction the
huge, scaly nose intruded, never giving it an opportunity to take a
bite.
 I played a game with it for almost a minute, during which time I saved
Peterson's legs from amputation by dragging them under my thighs and
rescued his head from decapitation by burrowing it into my chest. Fully
awake, Peterson said nothing as I protected him.
 "Hey you ugly motherFUCKER!" King yelled from the stairs and the
Creature momentarily diverted it's attention to him. I heard Chip
shouting and Robert screaming, then like a giant cat, the Creature
tore out of the bedroom and shot down the landing.
 Sweating and gasping for air, I slid away from Peterson and swung
around, in time to see a lizard-like tail wave down the staircase and
out of sight. I heard screams and shouts and thumping footsteps,
crashing ornaments, exploding glass, growls and snarls and jaws
snapping...
 "Linda," Peterson whimpered, tears running down his cheeks. His nose
was bleeding and his hair was a bird's nest. But he was alive.
 "Thereth nothing we can do." I said softly, shivering with cold and
fear. I looked into Peterson's eyes as the racket downstairs came to a
slow, gradual halt.
 When Mum's bedside clock turned eleven, the house was silent again.