The floor beneath his knees was covered in rugs of all sizes, shapes and colors. They were strewed upon the floor in haphazard fashion, overlapping in a scattering of patterns. Doc had the impression that a series of new rugs were brought in on a daily basis and slapped down wherever, covering the older soiled ones.
He turned and addressed his reflection in one of the long mirrors. He didn’t have to look far to see himself, since the mirrors were indeed mounted all around him. “Last scene of all, that ends this strange eventful history, is second childishness, and mere oblivion. Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything,” Doc said, finishing his earlier scene.
“So, you’re the one,” a voice from on high said. “The one I’ve been hearing about. What secrets you got to tell me, old man, before we chill your sorry ass?”
Chapter Fourteen
“At least this maze of stairs is lit,” Dean said, memories of the quickly fought but intense battle back at the hospital in Carolina still fresh in his mind. The stairs were made from the same sturdy vanadium steel as the walls, with dark rubber strips on the top of each step for added safety and traction. All in the group had noted the dizzying array of scratches and claw marks left behind in the rubber.
“The old one, she told me I would have to stride bravely into the bowels of hell to face my quarry. I know now she was correct,” Jorge said firmly. “I visited a seer. She predicted victory for us all, my friends.”
“If you’ve been down to hell once, you been there a dozen times,” Ryan replied cryptically. A journey into one of the redoubts was nothing new or exciting, and the only difference offered up by this one was the possible presence of the murderous mutated chu-pacabras.
As if conjured by his thoughts, a hissing noise like the leaky pipes of some magnificent steam boiler came from a source near the rear of the group.
“Company,” Ryan said softly as he whirled and quickly spotted the lurking presence of a single chu- pacabras at the wide bend where the stairs turned to wind their way up another level. The large unreadable eyes of the creature peered down at them impassively, as if the goatsucker were waiting for them to make the first move.
Unlike the one that had landed on Ryan, this chu-pacabras was at least two feet taller, and much more muscular. Dean decided to himself that he’d prefer to stick with the younger muties, if given a choice in the matter.
“Wonder what he wants?” Dean asked.
“Hungry. Mebbe,” Jak replied. “We snack.”
“We’re on his turf. Must’ve come in behind us somehow,” Krysty said. “Or perhaps he’s angry that we chilled his little buddy.”
“He can stick around and be curious all he wants as long as-” Ryan didn’t get to finish his sentence as the hissing creature decided to attack, swooping down in a half-gliding, half-falling motion and landing close to the waiting group. The spines on the monster’s back undulated, and the unearthly rainbow wash of colors Soto and Jorge had previously mentioned radiated outward in jagged beams of light.
“Trying to hypnotize us,” Soto cried.
“Too late,” Ryan replied, and fired a single burst from his pistol. Despite the baffle silencer, the noise of the shot was distinctly audible in the confines of the stairwell. The 9 mm bullet launched from the powerful blaster hit the squatty creature in the throat and careened up through its neck. The high-velocity impact lifted the four-foot-tall mutie off his feet and hindquarters, raising him until his powerful legs came crashing down, kicking and flailing for balance.
Since Ryan had fired up at an angle, the bullet exited out the back of the horror’s head, taking a fist-sized chunk of misshapen bone with it.
Threads of blood and brain tissue sprayed out in a fine mix of red and gray. The head of the chupa-cabras then lolled back and forth in a half circle on its thick neck before coming to rest awkwardly on a scrawny shoulder, then the entire corpse tumbled down to a resting place on a level floor landing of the stairwell.