Case File 13 #2 (20 page)

“Would you rather go back?” Angie snarled, whirling to face the rest of them. “Are you going to give up because of a little stink?”

Angelo ran his hands through his hair.

Carter scuffed his shoes on the floor.

“I'll go,” Nick said, although he was pretty sure he'd hurl as soon as he got in the hole.

Dana pressed her lips together before nodding. “I will too.”

“Okay.” Angelo sighed, his face looking green.

Carter and Tiffany looked at each other before both saying, “Fine,” at almost the exact same time, as though neither wanted the other to say it first.

The only one who hadn't agreed was Jake. He was backed as far away from the hole as he could get, shaking his head with a look of disgust. Both of his hands were plastered over his nose.

“It's his superior sense of smell,” Angelo said. “If it stinks that bad to us, it must be unbearable for him.”

“I guess we could go without him,” Dana said.

“No leavsies,” the giant cried, swaying back and forth. “No leavsies.”

“I think he's afraid to be by himself,” Carter said. He stood on his tiptoes to pat Jake's back.

“I don't know what choice we have,” Angie said. “The smell will kill him, and he's so big he'd have to crawl through the pipe.”

Nick couldn't imagine being on his hands and knees in the filth.

“No leavsies,” Jake repeated. “Is not beings to us alonsies.” A tear dripped from one of his eyes.

Nick sighed.

“Hang on,” Tiffany said. “I have an idea.” She unwrapped her silk scarf from her neck, reached into her purse, and pulled out a bottle of perfume. Balling the scarf, she opened the bottle and poured half of its contents onto the silk. Instantly the tunnel was filled with the overwhelming smell of flowers.

“Whoa,” Carter said, waving his hands in front of his face. “I think I liked the chemical smell better.”

But Jake took his hands from his nose at once and clapped. “Flowersies.”

“Yes,” Tiffany said. “It smells like flowers. Now kneel down.”

Jake knelt beside Tiffany and she wrapped her scarf around his nose and mouth, looping it twice before tying it at the back. “How's that?” she asked.

Jake inhaled, coughed, and said in a voice muted by the scarf, “Pret-ty.”

“Good enough,” Angie said. “Let's go.” Without giving anyone a chance to back out, she entered the hole.

Nick followed behind her. Instantly the smell made him choke.

“Man up,” Angie said, splashing ahead of him.

Nick turned on his light and almost wished he hadn't. The walls were covered with a greasy slime that glistened like a putrid rainbow. At the moment, the gunk at the bottom of the pipe barely covered his ankles. But he could see that sometime recently it had been much higher. What if the storm sent a river of sludge rushing down the pipe while they were inside?

Nick was so focused on trying not to barf that he didn't realize Angie had stopped until he ran into her back. “What's wrong?” he asked. “Why did you stop?”

“Is it another dead end?” Dana asked from behind Nick.

Angie shined her light into the darkness ahead. “Get out the bats,” she whispered.

Dana handed Nick both of the bats. He kept one and passed the other to Angie. The pipe was just wide enough for him to squeeze up beside her. “What do you see?” he asked.

Angie shook her head. “I didn't
see
anything,” she said, her voice so low it was barely more than a breath. “I could have sworn I
heard
something though. Up ahead, in the water.”

“What's happening?” Carter called.

“Be quiet, you guys,” Nick hissed. He listened intently. Something splashed just out of the range of his light.

“Did you hear it?” Angie asked.

“Yeah,” Nick whispered. He held his bat out before him, imagining giant red-eyed rats or snakes big enough to swallow a kid in one bite. He was so focused on staring deep into the tunnel that he didn't notice the creature that climbed out of the water right in front of him until it touched his shoe.

Nick looked down as a pink, five-legged tarantula climbed up his pant leg. “Gahhh!” he screamed, kicking it off. There was something terribly familiar about the spider. Something so horrible he couldn't even process it.

Another spider dropped from the ceiling onto his shoulder. Nick slapped at it, screaming. It felt warm to the touch.

Two more climbed out of the water in front of Angie.

“Don't use the bat in the wat—” Dana started to yell. But she was too late. Angie jabbed her bat at the spider and the electrical current from it ran through the water into everyone standing in it.

It felt like a giant hand lifted Nick and slammed him against the wall of the pipe. A hot metallic taste filled his mouth and the hair on his arms stood straight up.

“Don't use the bats in the water,” Dana groaned, trying to stand back up from where the shock had thrown her.

Nick had dropped his flashlight. As he picked it up, he saw one of the big pink spiders floating in the water. It seemed strangely misshapen—all five of its three-jointed legs growing from one side of its body.

Suddenly, he realized what he was seeing. At the same moment he heard a loud splashing coming from the pipe ahead. The creatures—briefly stunned by the bat—had recovered. Dozens of them were racing toward him—hundreds.

“Run!” he screamed. “Go back! Get out!”

Angie stood dazed, the bat hanging loosely in her hand. Nick grabbed her and pulled her back down the pipe. Behind him the splashing was getting closer and closer. Something clawed at his ankle and he stomped on it.

Ahead, he could see the other kids climbing out of the hole. “Get the lid,” he yelled. Angie was slowing him down, stumbling like a rag doll, but he knew if he let her go she'd fall. Something clawed at his back. He dropped his bat and slapped it away. Then he was at the opening. Turning. Slipping. Climbing out. Angelo and Dana pulled him and then Angie.

“Close it,” he screamed, “before they get out.”

A pack of the scrabbling pink creatures spotted the opening and scurried toward it. Just as they were about to break through, Jake picked up the metal lid and heaved it onto the pipe with a deafening clang.

“What kind of s-spiders were those?” Dana stammered, her face white.

“Not spiders,” Nick gasped. “Hands.”

Nick lay on his back, covered in muck and trying to catch his breath. “How's . . . Angie?”

“She's coming around,” Angelo said. “How are you?”

Nick wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. “Okay, I think.”

Carter leaned over him, his eyes big and round. “When you said hands, you didn't mean actual . . .”

Nick nodded, although he could barely believe it himself. “Severed hands. A hundred of them at least.”

“No.” Carter shook his head. “That's impossible. I mean, the brain was bad. But hands? Live hands crawling around like spiders?”

“We have to leave,” Dana said. “I don't have the weapons to fight something like that.”

“No.” Angie moaned and sat up. She blinked her eyes and looked around. “We can't go back. Those things had to get into the pipe, so we know it connects to the lab somewhere.”

“It doesn't matter,” Dana said. “We lost both of our bats and you saw what a bad idea it was to use them in the tunnel anyway.”

“Besides,” Angelo said, “there aren't enough charges in the bats and fishing poles combined to stop all of those”—he gulped—“hands.”

Dana nodded. “We can come back another time. Now that I know what's here I can invent something else to fight them off.”

Angie looked at Nick, her eyes begging. “Tell them. Tell them we don't have time to try again.”

“If there was any way . . . ,” Nick said, feeling like the world's biggest coward.

“There is,” Carter said.

He reached into his pillowcase and pulled out the packets of itching powder.

Nick groaned. “Stop kidding around.”

“It's not a joke,” Carter said. “Dana, give me one of your smoke grenades.”

Dana looked at Angelo, who lifted his shoulders. She took one of the cans out of her bag and handed it to Carter. “Be careful with that. If you set it off in here . . .”

“Do I look stupid to you?” Carter asked, then held up a hand. “Don't answer that.” He gently peeled part of the duct tape from the can. One by one, he placed the packets around the outside, sealing them on with the tape.

Nick sat up, understanding what Carter was doing. “I think this could really work.”

“Itching gas.” Dana started to giggle. “How will they scratch themselves?”

Angelo chuckled. “They'll have to ask someone for a . . . a hand.”

Angie looked from the grenade to the metal plate. “How do we open and close it fast enough to get the grenade in without the hands escaping?”

Carter turned to Jake. “You can pull up the plate and slam it shut again, right?”

Jake studied the plate. “Opensies. Closeies.”

“I think he gets it,” Tiffany said.

“You're going to have to pull the tab before he opens the plate or there won't be time to throw it in before the hands escape,” Dana said. Even now they could hear fingers scraping and clawing inside the pipe. “If he doesn't get the plate opened in time, you're going to gas us, instead of them.”

Carter patted Jake on the knee. “He'll do it.”

“If we're going to try it, we might as well get started,” Angie said.

Dana wiped her palms on the front of her jeans. “It might be a good idea if the rest of us move back.”

Nick punched Carter softly on the shoulder and gave Jake a fist bump. “Good luck, guys.” Then he moved a few yards back in the tunnel with the rest of the group.

“Ready to do this thing?” Carter asked.

Jake, who seemed to sense the seriousness of the situation, nodded silently.

“Let's rock those hands then!” Carter yelled, pulling the tab.

Jake reached for the plate. His thick fingers fumbled for the edge.

“One,” Dana counted.

“Open the pipe!” Tiffany yelled.

The giant couldn't get a grip on the plate. His fingers kept slipping. Nick saw the problem. The plate had fallen too far in. Its edge was even with the metal of the pipe. There was nothing for Jake to grab.

“Two,” Dana whispered. “I don't think he's going to make it.”

Nick leaped forward, pulling the knife from his pocket. He pried open the blade just as Dana said, “Three.”

Diving toward the opening, Nick rammed the knife at the crack between the plate and the pipe. He missed, and the blade skittered across the metal.

“Get back,” Dana screamed. “It's gonna explode!”

“Get rid of the can!” Angie shouted.

Carter clutched the grenade in one hand, eyes locked on Jake's fingers as the giant clawed desperately for the edge of the plate.

Nick tried one more time. His blade found the opening. Knowing it was probably too late, he jammed the knife sidewise. The blade snapped. But the plate slid out half an inch.

Jake's fingers gripped the exposed edge. With a grunt of effort, he grabbed the plate and heaved.

Carter flung his arm forward. His fingers were still on the can when it exploded. White smoke billowed out. Severed hands—somehow sensing the light—crawled toward the opening. Nick lunged at Carter, knocking him away. One of the spider-like hands leaped toward him. Before it could escape, Jake slammed the plate home.

“Are you guys okay?” Angelo said, running to check on Nick and Carter.

Carter flexed his hand. His fingers were red and slightly swollen. “It kind of tingles.”

“How long before we can go in?” Angie asked.

Dana calculated on her fingers. “If the smoke takes five minutes to dissipate—and assuming the itching powder will wash off in the water over time—I'd say we wait another three to four minutes.”

“What do we do if it didn't work?” Nick asked. The idea of a hundred hands waiting to attack them inside the pipe made his skin crawl.

“Start singing,” Angie said. “And hope they clap.”

Fortunately, they didn't have to worry about that. As soon as Jake pulled open the plate, he could see the itching powder had done its job. The hands were going crazy. Most of them rolled around in the water, stretching their fingers at awkward angles as they tried to scratch themselves. Some leaped around like crazed frogs. A few rubbed themselves against the side of the pipe, and one pair had even figured out how to scratch each other. It was actually kind of funny if you didn't think about what they were.

None of them paid any attention as Angie, Nick, and the rest of the kids entered the pipe and hurried by. They were careful not to step on any of the hands—the idea of fingers crunching under their feet was too gruesome to consider.