Fading Light: An Anthology of the Monstrous: Tim Marquitz (40 page)

The people place too much trust in me. What would they do if they
knew the engineer appointed to keep the lights running was not fully
committed to his charge? No, I don’t want to die. The thought
of dying scares me, but I am so tired.

The sound of a sputtering engine brings me back from my reverie. The
misfires let me know the generator is running on fumes. I groan as I
pull myself out of the chair, stiff joints popping as I stand for the
first time in hours. These misfires have happened so often lately I
barely have to think about what to do next. I pump the primer, switch
to the reserve tank, and feed the fuel through the line until the
sputtering stops and the smooth thrum returns.

“Fuck.”

The reserve tank is close to empty. There’s maybe half an hour
left. I don’t want go outside, not now. It would be easier to
ignore everything and let events run their course, watching the
generator consume every last drop of gas. Why should I care about an
ungrateful community that cannot be bothered to do the menial tasks
that keep everyone alive?

Because somebody finally needs me. Because I, too, have something
to live for.

It is the small remnant of human spirit left inside me, a hard coded
survival instinct, that forces me to pick up my Remington 870, fill
it with shells, and trek across the compound towards the fuel farm. I
set the timer on my watch to thirty minutes. It is going to be tight,
but if I hurry I should be able to make it.

I step out into open air, taking a reluctant breath as I scan my
surroundings. The scratching at the walls is louder and more frenzied
than it’s been inside the control room. They know just how
close we are to losing our lights and are getting ready for a
full-blooded assault.

The small skirmishes that test our defenses have intensified since
the wind stopped blowing and we transitioned to generators. The
creatures must have a greater affinity with our generators because
each and every failure has been followed by the scratching at the
walls and a swift, probing attack. We often lose one of our sentries
in its wake, their prolonged screams reminding us of what awaits if
the lights go out.

When the lights go out.

Eyes fixed on the fuel farm, I stride across the courtyard. Fragments
of light catch my eye as they reflect off the gas can at my side.
Just five hundred steps to the bowser, a thousand steps total; should
be a fifteen minute round trip.

While I walk, my mind wanders. My field of vision fixes on the bowser
in front of me, and I barely notice the figure following me from the
shadows.

“Hey, Ted, where ya goin’?”

I sigh and glance at my watch. The timer reads 26:40.

“You hear me, Ted? What’s with the can?”

26:20. I keep walking, trying to ignore the mocking voice as it
approaches from behind. I know what to expect. It happens almost
every time I leave the power station.

“Don’t you ignore me, ya freak.”

A firm hand lands on my shoulder, sharp fingernails digging into my
flesh.

“Let go, Dan. I don’t have time for your games.”

“Oh, I think you do,” the voice rasps. “I own this
facility. I own
you
.”

I tear my shoulder away and lurch towards the fuel farm, wanting to
get this beating out of the way as quickly as possible. I don’t
have to wait long.

Fleshy palms strike the small of my back and I lose my feet, the
ground meeting my face with a sickening crunch. Writhing in pain, I
can only make a weak attempt to protect myself as Dan buries his
steel toed boot deep in my stomach. He cackles as I start to cough,
wild glee lighting up his eyes as I desperately try to regain some
air. I hate this. I hate that my only choice is to lay down and take
it. I want him to die.

“Enough.” A shout echoes from across the courtyard.

Gray.

My relief is short lived as pain explodes at my ribs, my gurgled cry
accompanying the snap of breaking bones. Dan kneels beside me and
leans in close. The rank smell of his heavy breath invades my
nostrils.

“This isn’t over,” he hisses over the sound of
pounding footsteps. “Gray won’t be around to save you
next time, and I’ll gut you both like the pigs you are.”

I flinch as a thick wad of spit hits the side of my face, coating my
cheek with a warm sticky film.
Gut me like a pig?
I want to
record the sound of me breaking every bone in his body and listen to
it while I quarter his body. I want to splay his organs all over my
work bench and pulverize them in with my sledge hammer. I-I ...

“Easy, Ted, it’s alright,” whispers a soothing
voice at my ear. “I’m here now. He can’t hurt you
anymore.”

My mind is still racing as I try to slow my breathing. Soft fingers
wipe the shame from my cheek, the calming touch guiding me onto my
back and allowing me to regain control. He has always been very good
with his hands.

I take a deep breath and regret it, my body clenching as a sharp pain
pierces my side; a few broken ribs, and with luck, nothing more. I
open my eyes and see the concern etched on Gray’s face. I must
look like shit.

“You always do this, Ted,” he scolds, concern turning to
disappointment as he reaches down to give me a hand. “You
should have waited for me. You know you don’t have to do
everything alone.”

Gray. Always wanting to be the hero. Always wanting to be
my
hero. I wince as he pulls me to my feet, and double over as I am
taken by another coughing fit. When I try to stand, the world is
spins before my eyes. I take hold of Gray’s shirt to maintain
my balance.

“I need to get to the fuel farm.”

“You are in no condition to be doing anything right now.”

I glance at the timer and curse under my breath. “We only have
eighteen minutes until the lights go out. Time for you to be our
hero.”

I’ve fallen behind schedule. It only takes a few minutes to
reach the fuel farm, but I know we’re not moving fast enough.
Claws drag across the outer the wall, becoming louder and more
deliberate as each second passes. They know we aren’t going to
make it.

But I have to try.

Feeling steadier on my feet, I turn my attention to the job at hand,
unfastening the nozzle from the nearest tank and securing it to the
gas can. I signal Gray to release the valve, the corners of my mouth
turning up as the torrent of fuel passes through the hose.

“I like it when you smile.”

I blush and turn my head away, trying to focus on the fuel filling
the can. For all his qualities, he has a poor sense of timing.

“You know, once we get back to the power station, I’m
going to take care of you properly.”

My mind fights against the thought of Gray’s body pressed
against mine, the thought of passion igniting his steely blue eyes as
his hands explore my body. I need to regain control of the situation.
I need to lower my heart rate. I need him to focus.

“I thought you would be taking care of Zoe.”

A look of anguish creases his perfect face, and I know I’ve
hurt him. It was a cheap shot, even by my standards, and I wonder if
I might have gone too far this time. I wonder if I’ve gone far
enough.

The sound of gurgling fuel accentuates the awkward silence between
us. Gray closes the valve and I start to fidget, waiting for the last
of the fuel to drain from the hose, waiting for him to say something.
The timer reads 15:35.

“I’m sorry, Gray,” I whisper while fastening the
lid and securing the hose to the tank. “I didn’t mean it
to come out like that.”

Taking up the can, he heads towards the power station. He doesn’t
say a word.

I follow Gray across the courtyard, static discharges interrupting
the hum of the fluorescent lamps.

That can
’
t be right, I still have ten minutes left.

The flickering light draws everyone to the courtyard, low voices
demanding to know what is going on.

“
What’s wrong with the lights, Ted?
”

“
What have you done, Ted?
”

“
I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you faggots.
”

The power station is still two hundred paces away when the flickering
turns into pregnant pauses. I have overestimated the remaining fuel
badly. I have doomed us all.

I unsling my shotgun and awkwardly work the action, the bolt catching
on a loose shell and becoming stuck as I try to slide the action
forward.

“Are you sure you can handle that?”

I slap the barrel and shake the shotgun, removing the blockage and
slamming a shell into the chamber in a much more fluid and confident
motion. “Just hurry up and get moving. We only have a few
minutes left and I want to be ... ”

I notice the scratching, or should I say the
lack
of
scratching. Despite the crackle from the lights and the panicked
shouts from the crowd, the sound of silence outside the walls is
deafening. The lights make their final stand, a valiant attempt to
hold steady before they are finally overcome. The compound is plunged
into darkness.

My breaths come fast and shallow, my sense of direction disoriented
by the sudden lack of light. My hands fumble along the barrel of the
shotgun as I reach for the torch attachment, fingertips trembling as
I depress the switch. Looking up for the first time, I can see a
number of beams emerging from the darkness, scanning the walls for
any sign of breach.

“Over there,” I yell with a shrill voice, waking the
crowd from their stunned silence. Shouts turn to screams and people
cry out for help, fear of the darkness fuelling their need to possess
the precious torchlight.

The creatures are scaling the wall now, panting and growling as they
close in on their prey. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end
as multiple thumps strike the ground from all directions. They are
surrounding us.

“They’re coming,” I call out, desperation creeping
into my voice. “Run!”

I turn towards the power station and try to sprint, but the searing
pain at my side is too much. Glimpses of a shadowy form dodge in and
out of my torchlight, coming straight at me. It strikes me just above
my pelvis, lifting me off the ground and slamming me onto my back.
Its weight drops onto the shotgun and crushes the remaining wind from
my chest. My ribs scream in agony.

An acidic spray burns my skin and furious talons catch on the shotgun
as they try to tear me open. I can feel the adrenaline coursing
through my veins, telling me to fight back, telling me to survive. I
kick upwards with all my strength. My boot meets solid flesh,
flinging the monstrous body through the air and freeing my arms from
its deadly embrace. In a motion more fluid than I thought possible, I
draw the shotgun into my shoulder and level it at the roaring beast.
Finger on the trigger, I squeeze.

The blast is deafening, and the shadowy being is no more. My body
aches as I force myself to stand, my ringing ears drowning out the
sound of people being massacred around me. I have to find Gray.

A crumpled form lies in front of me, bloody entrails and a God awful
stench leaking from what might have been its stomach. The whole scene
is repulsive, and yet I am intoxicated by the thought of doing this
to someone else. I lick my lips. What would Dan’s entrails
smell like?

“Come on, Ted, hurry up.”

Gray. I whip around and shine torchlight at the sound of his voice.
He has a pistol in one hand and the gas can in the other. His
bloodstained body seems to glisten. He has never looked sexier.

We jog towards the power station, my aches and pains dulling to a
heavy throb. Leaving the screams behind us, we travel in silence,
meeting no resistance along the way. Gray pauses and I approach the
station cautiously, aiming my light through the open door and
searching for signs of disturbance. This is far too easy.

The familiar sound of claws against metal echoes deep with the power
station. They are going for the generator, to make sure the lights
never come back on.

“You ready?”

“You’re a fucking nut.”

“I love you, too.”

I motion to Gray and tip-toe inside the station, making a b-line for
the generator workshop. Rows of shelves line the walls, housing an
odd assortment of nuts, bolts, and broken parts. The thick coating of
dust is undisturbed.

A metallic
clank
sounds directly above me, and the torchlight
briefly illuminates a shadowy form scampering across the ceiling, and
then silence. The soft pant of Gray’s breath is suddenly
disturbed by metal containers crashing to the floor only a handful of
paces ahead of us. Something dark flashes across the corridor, moving
too quickly for me to make out. I inch forward, the creaks and groans
far too loud as the tread of my boots catches on the grated floor. My
hands shake as I try to keep the shotgun horizontal. They’re
too fast.

Edging closer and closer to the workshop, I’m able to make out
three shadowy forms. The residual torchlight barely illuminates them
as they scurry about, looking for ways to damage the remaining
generator. Pale, torn skin is pulled tight against a misshapen skull,
while rotting flesh hangs from the sharp, angular frame. They are
grotesque. I take a bead on the nearest one and pull the trigger.

Click.

The skeletal figure lifts its cold, dead eyes and stares back at me
with an evil grin. It lets out a blood curdling screech and sprints
towards us, its companions close behind. I pump the action and shoot.

Boom
.

Again and again I fire, shotgun blasts accompanied by screams of pain
as two of the monsters drop before me. Something crashes into my side
and slams me into the wall. Barely able to keep my feet, I try to buy
some time by firing randomly into the darkness. The muzzle flashes
illuminate a set of gnashing fangs bearing down on me, acidic saliva
scorching my neck.