Level Zero by Dan McDowell (debian ebook reader .txt) 📗

the ambulance continued toward the hospital.

I don’t have great distrust for the medical community, but whatever I can do to get away from this whacko’s bound to be an improvement.

The ambulance parked, and the driver exited without a formal goodbye to Ron.

“You’re just going to leave me here strapped to the stretcher bed?”

He undid himself and moved toward the front.

This isn’t RGH. That’s the Bridgewater Restaurant over there.

He climbed out the door, stumbling his way down the block.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

CHRIS WILKERSON sat in the control room, staring at the video feeds, toggling back and forth between each one. His exits from the space had dwindled in the recent times as he grew more fixated with watching the tunnel residents and the way of life that emerged.

It’s weird. They almost seem like they’re adapting in there. I don’t see any duress. Am I missing something? Look at me, sitting here, watching these people in a strange voyeuristic manner. It’s a false sense of control. A pipedream to reality. It’s hard to admit I’m numb to the world, but I don’t feel anymore. Staring at these screens keeps me from becoming hollow.

His eyes glossed over and he drifted into a deep sleep.

He stood in the tunnel, watching all the victims as they clawed their way up the walls and screamed. As they neared the top, a glimmer of light shined through the ceiling and they roared in excitement.

Veering to another corner, he saw victim number twenty — maimed with duct tape and electrical wire. Smoke came from her exposed scalp as she spoke, “Was it worth it? I hope it was worth it.”

He ran away, and she pursued him with a cackling laughter that lingered as it bounced from the tunnel walls.

Creeper Joe dug into the overflow freezer and pulled out some of its stored contents. His brass syringe shimmered. He lunged toward Chris with a W crested dagger.

The door to the control room clanged shut, and he awoke holding a defensive position. He studied the screens.

Where are you, Joe? Where are you?

He swore aloud.

I forgot to lock the door.

Spinning his chair around to leave, it came to a sudden halt as Creeper Joe’s foot stopped it.

His yellow eyes glowed in the darkness. “Not so fast. You’ve got some kind of mouth on you, don’t you, Chris? I’ve been waiting for you to show for a while now. Where’ve you been? Did you lose count? We’ve got all fifty-four. The Easter egg hunt is over. You can breathe again.”

“I let it go on for too long,” Chris said. “I feel so jaded. There’s no rush in torturing or kidnapping people. Just a horrible pain in the pit of my stomach and mounds of remorse that I can’t come to grips with.”

“Those are very human feelings, but, what are we really? Dead, alive, or somewhere in between?”

Chris’s face grew pale. “What are you trying to say?”

“Life and death aren’t so different,” Joe said. “It’s a state of mind, really… That’s why I’m still here.”

“Do you relish in ambiguity or what?”

“Of course I do. It’s not fair for me to have a lying tongue with you… Truth is, I slit your throat last night, and you’re with me now.”

Heaven help me.

Chris panicked, feeling of his throat. His hands dripped scarlet. “You what?”

“Look down at the console,” Joe gawked. “You think all this is, is a bucket of red corn syrup? I did what you needed me to. You failed to keep Oak Hollow in order, Chris. I let you rule the roost a while, gave you a taste of what it was like, and well, you know, it just didn’t work out as well as I hoped. You signed the dotted line, but you never delivered.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“To prove a point,” Joe said.

“Which is?”

Joe shook his head in disapproval. “A partnership takes more than one participant. You failed with Katrina. You failed with the building. You failed with me.”

“How can I know I failed if I never get a report card?”

“Wait until you see the undertaker chipping away at your headstone. That’s always a real eye opener for us.”

“What are you trying to say? Am I on the path to Sheol?”

“I think we all are. You and I, we supersede this world now… You. Me. A few others. It’s not immortality. Don’t misunderstand me. I’ve struggled to know how to handle you. We’re alike now, Chris. Either you’re with me, or you’re against me.”

“It’s not always that simple,” Chris said. “I don’t only work in absolutes; don’t put me in that position. You know, I can’t trust you.”

Joe began digging his nails into Chris’s wrist.

Why is there no blood?

“Pick a side, but do it wisely. Oak Hollow will spit you out quick if you make the wrong choice. The ground’s only hallowed on the surface. Basement is warped beyond recognition from years of folly. A pit for pleasures and sacrilege so obscene, you can’t undo it.”

“Screw this! I’m done,” Chris said.

“This is the moment where I tell you… you’re not really dead, and then I slit your throat.”

“Say what…?”

Joe lunged toward him with a dagger cutting into his throat. Chris collapsed to the floor as blood gushed from his neck. Joe dropped the storied knife, hurrying to the back of the room. He collected a bucket and waited for it to fill before leaving.

“Chris, it was only corn syrup the first time. Some fools never learn,” he said.

Creeper Joe exited the room, and the Shadow spoke, “I don’t know why you did that.”

“His blood was far from innocent,” Joe said. “Besides, you know we’re racing the clock. It was time.”

They walked through the basement, moving back into the tunnel through an unseen point of entry.

“No more,” the Shadow said.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

DETECTIVE NEIL PENSKE pulled the black Crown Vic down the block, noting the Creepy Nights building in the line of sight.

“5454 Oak Hollow Lane. Man, this place gives me the creeps,” Penske said. “Who paints a