Bestial (22 page)

He pulled his shirt over his mouth, choking on the dust. Holding his breath, he covered his head with his arms. He could hear the heavy thunks of bricks and small pieces of the Marriott plummeting all around him, like miniature meteors. Luckily, none of them hit him.

He moved to the edge of the rooftop and stared down at the wreckage. He had to squint to see through the soot and plaster
powder, but what he could see was an awe-inspiring sight, Armageddon in miniature. His eyes began to tear up, although he wasn’t sure why. The devastation just seemed so … final.

After its descent, the Marriott barely even resembled the hotel it had once been. It had smashed into the earth, crushing everything in its path. The two buildings it had struck on its passage to the street now appeared to be wavering in the breeze. Fires burned in various places in the wreckage, and pipes had snapped; water and gas spewed forth like blood bubbling from the wounds of one of the Titans.

Searching for the Brink’s truck, he realized he couldn’t find it anywhere. Maybe it was trapped beneath the hotel debris, smashed beyond recognition, the poor people inside mangled and broken.

Suddenly, a huge wall of flame shot from a damaged gas pipe, blasting forty feet into the air, singeing Christian’s eyebrows. He cursed and stepped back as the flame died down, slowly eating away at other parts of the rubble. Bits of plaster dust caught fire, miniature fireflies floating through the air. He hoped the rest of the dust would put out the fires.

Where was that truck? He couldn’t find it anywhere on the street.

Something clattered behind him, and Christian turned to see the rooftop door with the padlock shaking. The things had found their way up the stairwell, and they were rattling the door, pounding on it with their paws. Their efforts gained in determination, and he realized they probably smelled him on the roof, through the cracks of the door. One of them gave a long, decisive howl.

“Oh, come on,” Christian muttered, looking toward the heavens.

The padlock appeared as though it could give way at any moment, and Christian looked back at the twelve feet that separated him from the rooftop of the next building over.

If he could reach that roof and hide inside the building, do something to eliminate his scent …

The padlock gave way, and the door burst from its hinges, falling to the roof with a loud clang. The first creature stuck its shaggy head out from the stairwell, and its gaze immediately focused upon the boy. With a roar, it ran toward him.

Christian sprinted across the rooftop, heading for the space, praying he would make it to the other roof.

Feeling the air suddenly beneath his feet, he knew he was going to fall short, was going to plummet into the alley, into the waiting mouths of the lycanthropes beneath him. Swinging his arms, he closed his eyes and resigned himself to destiny.

SEPTEMBER 18, 12:00 A.M.

C
athy fumbled in the near-darkness of the attic, listening to the frustrated sounds of the creatures one floor below her. She doubted they could get through the trapdoor without a ladder, but their incessant howling and jumping unnerved her. The shadows created by the moonlight streaming through the lone window didn’t help either. It seemed as though something lurked behind every mildewed stack of boxes, every trunk or garbage bag full of old clothes.

She found a broken leg from a kitchen chair, a remnant from a dining room set she’d thought was disposed of years ago. Picking it up, she enjoyed the heft of the cherrywood in her hands. She swung it a few times, practiced a few defensive moves. It made her feel better.

Starting in the farthest corner from the window, she searched the attic. She knew she wouldn’t consider herself safe for the night until she was certain there wasn’t anyone lurking in the shadows, waiting to spring out at her. She lifted drop cloths with the table leg, peering in the dim light at more old furniture, rolled-up carpets, and boxes and boxes of stuff. Sometimes, she disturbed insects, which scuttled away.

The beast-men were still protesting her getaway, howling and roaring their displeasure under her feet. Her sense of security was diminished by these monsters, only a few meager yards away from her.

She eventually wound her way to the window, finally assured that she was alone in the attic. There was a window seat, and she sat on it, peering out at the full moon. It hung bright and ominous in the sky. She wasn’t sure if she had ever seen a moon so large, as though it
were heading on a collision course for the Earth. Clouds had started to border it, surrounding the moon like a frame.

Wanting some fresh air, she yanked at the window latch. When it opened, she took deep gulps, smelling dew and grass. It was a wonderful smell, refreshing after the mustiness of the room and its contents. She continued to breathe deeply … inhale and exhale, relaxing, calming herself.

She spotted something white in the farthest corner, and she headed toward it. Using the table leg to uncover it, she discovered her wedding gown. Part of the veil had been exposed when it had been packed away into the attic. She pulled it from its box, almost smiling.

The dress was beautiful, with sparkling hand-sewn beadwork across the bodice. The lace was ornate and expensive. The elbow-length gloves had also been stashed in the same box, but they had become discolored over the years, brown and dirty-looking. Leaving them alone, she stroked the delicate fabric of the dress. She held it in front of herself and saw that it was now a good two sizes too small.

Her wedding day had been a beautiful affair, catered and arranged by the very best the city had to offer. Karl had looked so handsome, and they had suffered through the formal ceremony for their parents’ sake. Then, at the reception, they’d had too much to drink, danced through the evening to a live band that was surprisingly good, and snuck away twice during the festivities to make love, once in a closet, once in their car. The honeymoon had been in Nice and Florence. It had been a perfect beginning to their lives together.

A perfect beginning …

It struck her like a blow to her gut. That life was over. Karl lay dead on the floor below her, probably half-eaten by those creatures.

When did everything change?
she wondered.

She knew it hadn’t happened overnight. Things had been rocky for years in their marriage, especially in bed. Something had gone wrong in their relationship, and she was at a loss to remember when it had happened.

They’d been so happy on the day she had worn this strapless white gown that she now held in her hands—a gown that had been
rotting away in the house for years, forgotten, boxed away. Rotting in the same manner that their marriage had decayed.

If she’d only chosen to trust her boy.

Now Karl was dead. The world was falling apart, and she was locked in the attic, staring at the oversized moon.

Nothing would ever be the same, she realized. She would never return to those halcyon days of their early marriage. Perhaps they were only delusions of her youthful enthusiasm. Perhaps those wonderful times had never existed, the rot setting in early in their relationship. She would never go back to before.

Dropping her wedding gown to the floor, she covered her face with her hands and wept through her fingers.

SEPTEMBER 18, 12:02 A.M.

W
hen Christian leaped over the void, arms and legs pedaling as if that could gain him a few inches, he knew he was going to fall a bit short of Bio-Gen’s neighboring building. His chest hit the edge of the rooftop, and he reached for something to grasp hold of. The roof was cement, and there was a slight lip around the top. He sank a bit, hitting his chin, but his outstretched arms stopped his fall. He was holding on by his armpits.

He tried wriggling his bottom half, hiking his leg higher and higher until he caught his sneaker on the edge of the building. Swinging his other leg after it, he rolled himself onto the rooftop.

Breathing heavily, he faced the night sky, astounded at the size of the moon. It seemed to be devouring the entire night, star by star.

Then he remembered that he had company, and he glanced back at the Bio-Gen rooftop. Six beast-men paced the length of the building, in the same anxious way Andrei had walked back and forth in his cell. They displayed the same eagerness, the same jittery agitation as the Siberian. The largest one stood on top of the roof, baying at him.

It took a few steps backward, and Christian cursed under his breath as he realized what the creature was doing.

The thing was going to jump after him.

Scanning the area, he saw another building, this one a bit closer, maybe ten or eleven feet away, but a good foot taller than where he stood. Its corners had been carved into sinister-looking gargoyles.

Across the alley, the huge leader of the pack began to run toward the edge of the building. Its muscles moved beautifully beneath its heavy brown fur, every one a part of a powerful machine, each working separately and together.

Christian knew it would make the jump. If he, a mere human, had made it, this mighty animal would clear the edge with no problem.

He started running as the beast-man leaped from Bio-Gen, soaring mightily through the air. Strings of thick saliva fell from its jaws. Christian counted the steps—
three, four, five
—then he was pushing himself off of the roof. While he was in the air, he heard the huge creature land behind him with a grunt.

Stretching, Christian snagged the wing of a gargoyle with his fingers. One leg straddled the stone monster, and he pulled himself onto the next roof.

With a hiss of pain, he realized he had pulled a muscle in his leg. He took a few steps, wincing. The leg hurt a lot, and he had trouble walking on it. There was no way he could run across the roof and jump over alleys any longer.

Looking back, he saw the lycanthrope roar at him, scratching at the roof’s tar paper with its sharp claws. A second creature had joined it while he had been testing his leg.

“Come on, Christian,” he said aloud. “Walk it off. It could just be a cramp. Walk it off.”

It did feel a little better after a few steps. As he watched, a third creature jumped from the Bio-Gen building to join its pack. It missed the lip of the roof and fell, yowling. He could hear the monsters in the alley as they attacked their fallen comrade. Bones snapped, flesh tore. Fights broke out, and in the streets more lycanthropes rushed toward the smell of blood in a feeding frenzy.

Watching out for the vents and pipes that stuck out on the roof, Christian half ran, half hobbled to the other side. The next building was much farther away, at least thirteen feet. He moved backward a bit, finding the trapdoor that led into the top floors. It was locked from the inside; he pulled and yanked as hard as he could, but it would not open.

Beneath his feet, the roof shook as something large landed on it.

“Aw, no,” Christian said, turning to see the leader of the pack raising itself onto its forearms. It lowered its head, glaring at him with starving, golden eyes. Its lips pulled back in a snarl. …

And Christian took off running. Every other step sent stabs of
agony up his leg, as though someone were sticking him with butcher knives. He cried out each time, and he made damn sure he jumped using his other leg for support.

Suddenly, there was nothing beneath him but air. The wind blew in his ears, angry and growing in its intensity. His arms windmilled, and he found himself slapping his palms against the side of a brick wall.

He’d missed the rooftop.

And he was falling.

He wanted to cry, to shout out and curse God and the heavens for everything that had happened to him. He wanted to yell at himself for not returning to the warehouse and the safety of the elevator.

His palms shredded as he tried to grab hold of the brick wall, scraping off a layer of skin, slippery with blood.

Then he landed with a clanging sound on a fire escape landing. It took him by surprise. He hadn’t seen it there when he was jumping; he’d been too focused on the rooftop. He crumpled to his knees on the metal slats, the pain in his right leg throbbing now in time with his heart.

On the rooftop he’d just escaped, the leader peeked down at him between two gargoyles. Its eyes held a curiosity that Christian hadn’t seen in the beasts before now. There was something intelligent lurking behind the compulsion to eat and kill.

Struggling to his feet, ignoring the pain, Christian began to descend the iron stairs of the fire escape. His footfalls echoed loudly in the alley, and he wondered what lay below him in the darkness.

Looking back up, he saw the leader soar over his head and land on the roof he had just missed. He stopped a moment. A second monster, then a third, gracefully bridged the gap between the buildings. As the fourth jumped, the leader showed its face, staring down at the fire escape a story below it. It reached out a paw and swung at the metal, but it didn’t have the reach. It whined deep in its throat, a disappointed sound.

A fifth beast tried to jump over the alley. It missed, striking its head on the brick wall. Knocked unconscious, it dropped, landing on the fire escape a foot away from Christian. Its weight was too much for the old, rusted metal, and it shook the structure so hard Christian
was knocked down a flight; he saved himself from falling by grabbing a stair. Some of the supports that were screwed into the side of the building gave in to the pressure. Bolts popped out of the wall, and the entire structure wavered, barely supported by the bolts at the bottom of the contraption. The fallen beast-man slid off and dropped to the ground below. It landed with a wet splat, knocking over garbage cans.

The entire fire escape began to swing across the alley. A few more bolts popped from their moorings, and the stairs creaked as they swung across the open space. The top half was no longer attached, and the bolts that had secured the fire escape to the wall were being tugged out one by one with loud chunking sounds, shooting down past Christian, who clung to the stairs, his arms looped around a single step.