XX - Henry
The factory was dark, damp and
empty. The chill air of winter filled
it like a malevolent spirit and Henry had to draw his hospital gown tighter
around himself as he stumbled across the debris-strewn floor. He was terrified, confused and alone. He had no idea where the others had gone.
"Hello?" he called
out, "Hello? Josh, Paige...
Charlie? Is there anyone there?"
He heard nothing in reply but
the echo of his own voice, bouncing around the shell of the old factory like a
caged animal. He glanced over his
shoulder at the window he had climbed in by, a curtain of dimly lit fog in a
wall of blackness. The fog swirled
gently as he watched it, like strands of vapour tugged by the wind.
Then a shadow flickered across
the aperture and Henry let out a startled gasp.
There's someone out there,
he thought, that's nothing to be frightened of. I should call for help, for God's sake!
He took a step back towards the
window, staring at the square of pale vapour with fascination, expectation and
more than a little trepidation.
"Hello?" he called
out again, "Is there someone out there?"
There was no answer, only the
almost silent sibilance of wind and fog.
Henry took another step forward.
"Hello? I'm sure I saw someone out there. I- I think I'm a bit lost..." There was another flicker of movement. "Can you help me?"
Again, just silence, turning
Henry's fear into frustration. He shook
himself, as if to rid himself of pointless superstition, body, mind and soul,
then marched towards the window, temper building.
"Look, I'm lost and cold
and I should probably be back in the hospital or something and i would
appreciate it if you would at least do me the courtesy of answering me you-
you-" he couldn't think of a suitable adjective. He had no idea who he was talking to. Was it some kid, messing around in the ruins of the factory, as
the graffiti suggested they did? If so,
what would they think of some old man in a hospital gown shouting at them from
inside? For just a moment a little bit
of fear crept back into Henry's confused mind, but a real fear this time,
rational and that in turn made him angry again, especially when he saw another
flicker of movement in the fog outside.
"Right," he said with
furious finality as he put a hand on the window ledge and began to climb over
it, "that's it. You listen
good." He heaved and managed to pull his leg up so that he was straddling
the brick wall. "When I get out of
here I'm going to report you to the police and then-"
Something rushed towards him
out of the fog. He didn't see what it
was exactly, just got a sense of speed, movement and something that looked like
slick leather. The shock of it made him
startle and he half climbed, half fell backwards into the factory, landing on
the hard concrete floor with an uncomfortably hard bump. In panic he felt around, but there was no
sign of anything breaking and the only pain he felt was a gentle bruising. Outside he could hear whoever had startled
him shuffling about.
"I bet you thought that
was really funny," he said, picking himself up and dusting himself off,
"but once I manage to phone the police you'll be very sorry
indeed." He began to turn around,
to face the window once more and make another attempt at escape. "They don't take kindly to teenagers who
harass old-"
There was a face in the
window. It looked almost human, but
it's skin was dark and blotchy and covered in slime, the slick leather look he
had thought he had seen a moment before.
It had no eyes and its nose was replace with thin, reptilian slits
sitting above an enormous, toothed mouth.
Despite its obvious lack of vision it seemed to stare at the terrified
old man before it for a long time. Its
hands, twisted backwards like a badly put together manikin, gripped the window
ledge as if trying to tear it apart.
Then it let out a long torrent
of sound, angry, full of big, meaningless words, almost a shriek and almost
intelligible at the same time.
Henry knew when was the time to
question what he thought he saw and when to leave such thoughts until later,
and so, faced with the horrifically inexplicable, he ran.
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