Fear in the Dark
1
Sammy Valencia shone his flashlight in a complete circle, trying to get his bearings. He was checking the pipes and sewer for Church Hill's Department of Utilities. He had thought that he was in a main line heading to the treatment plant. Now he wasn't so sure.
Sammy cut off his light, closed his eyes in the dark and listened. His heart had sped up to a harsh thumping, and filled his ears, until he had calmed enough to turn the flashlight back on. He decided to backtrack to the last intersection to see if he could find a ladder leading out of this dark underworld. He could get his bearings on the street above, before descending again.
Sammy sloshed along the tunnel, glad he didn't have to bend to keep from bumping his head against the roof. He put the small skittering sound behind him down as a rat. He felt a sharp pain in his neck, dropped his flashlight as he clutched at whatever held him.
Then the world faded away for Sammy.
2
Kirby 'The Kirb' Constanza was looking at an easy score. He stood across the street from the Goliath cineplex, watching the small crowd mill around on the sidewalk. He had picked a girl smaller than himself, clutching her purse loosely in one hand. All he had to do was move in, and then get out of there.
No sweat for a pro like him.
He walked over to cinema, looking casually around as he turned to close on his target. He started building up speed the closer to the girl he got until he was running full tilt. He knocked the girl down with one arm as he grabbed her purse with his free hand. Then he was sprinting down the street. The move had enough surprise to allow him to escape from anyone trying to run him down.
The Kirb got the money out of a little wallet inside the purse before throwing it in a public garbage can. He was free and clear, and fifty bucks richer. Every score should be that easy.
Something, someone, grabbed Constanza by the back of his neck. It was only a light touch, but suddenly he was face first in the wall of a clothing store. He turned to face his assailant. A hatchet face covered with thin scars peering from under a hood was the last thing he saw before something put his lights out.
Kirby awoke to a swollen, hurting jaw, and policemen shoes blocking his line of sight.
3
Joe and Frank grimaced when the technician held the bag open for them to inspect the contents. It wasn't much for them to inspect.
"Where's his other arm?," Frank asked.
"Where's the rest of him, period?," Joe asked.
"We don't know," admitted the technician. "Sewer workers and uniforms are looking for the rest of the body. Chances are whatever did this ate them, or stashed them somewhere to be eaten later."
"Eaten?," asked Frank.
"These marks are consistent with bite marks," said the technician, pointing to a row of indentations in the soggy flesh. "An autopsy will tell us more, but I am willing to bet this is some kind of animal attack."
"An animal attack in the sewer?," said Frank, glancing at his partner.
The tech nodded as he zipped the bag up again. The dismembered corpse was quickly loaded in the coroner's van for transport back to the city morgue. He got behind the wheel, partner closing the rear doors before heading to the passenger seat.
"This town gets weirder every day," Frank said.
"I couldn't agree more," said Joe.
4
The cowled, and cloaked, specter arrived in the morgue at three in the morning. No one saw him as he walked the halls silently. He paused before stepping into the refrigerator where the deceased were kept until the coroner could work on them. He unzipped the bag holding the parts of Sammy Valencia that had been recovered.
The scarred face under the cowl didn't flinch as piercing grey eyes took an inventory of what was present in the body bag. One gloved hand picked up the nub where an arm should be. A small scope covered one eye as the intruder looked the wounds over. He dropped the piece of arm back in the bag.
The caped figure wrote a note on the top sheet of a pad he found in a desk near the refrigerator. He tore the sheet off and dropped it in the body bag for the coroner to find when they started going over the body.
He was sure they would see that human teeth had made those marks, but it was better to save time and point them in the right direction.
5
Joe sipped coffee the day after the dismembered body was found. He had five other cases open on his desk. Foremost was the disappearance of Tyson Lewis from the hospital. He knew it was somehow connected to the appearance of a new vigilante in town. He also knew it was connected to the deaths of a street gang kid, and a businessman named Lampion. Those three threads were cold until Joe could locate the vigilante involved and interrogate him.
The other four weren't as mysterious. He knew who did it, and why. He was waiting on the lab to confirm his suspicions before he could file for a warrant and pick up the suspects. After that it would be up to a court to decide what had happened.
Frank appeared in a fresh suit as Joe got a refill and took it to his desk. Frank pulled out his pad as he waited for Joe to settle in so they could plan their next move on their other cases. An animal attack wasn't exactly a murder.
Joe and Frank finished their review of their plans when the morgue called to let them know of the human teeth marks on the victim's body. The news got worse with the realization that any DNA traces had been washed away by the sewer water.
Joe hung up the phone, gave Frank a summary, then answered the phone again. Another body had been found near a manhole cover. They knew it was connected to the earlier attack because the corpse was missing one of its legs, as if whatever animal had grabbed him by the leg and bit that off while he was trying to get out of the sewer.
"Let's get down there," Joe said, pulling on his suit jacket as he stood up.
"Right behind you," said Frank. "Looks like we're going to have to comb the sewer for this guy."
"We'll probably have to get help from the water and fire departments," said Joe, leading the way to the elevator. "Animal control too. This could be a bureaucratic nightmare."
"Just when I thought we have seen it all," said Frank.
"I know what you mean," said Joe. "A sewer cannibal is the last thing I need to be dealing with."
The two detectives rode the elevator down to the garage so they could draw a car to drive to the scene. As Joe drove, Frank made calls to make sure that the lab was finishing their tests on the other open cases. As soon as they could close those, then they could concentrate on the mysterious Tyson Lewis and the Sewer Monster from the Deep.
Joe saw his exit off the highway. He followed the ramp into a quiet neighborhood of small houses on small lots almost close enough to touch each other. Emergency vehicles, a crime scene unit SUV, and several Church Hill police cars formed a circle in the street as the detectives rolled to a stop.
Uniforms waved traffic around the crime scene to keep things as usable as possible by the technicians.
Joe and Frank went over the reports from the first officers on the scene. It didn't look good.
6
Earl Clavin worked for the telephone company. He had gone into the sewer system to check a possible break in one of their cables. That was according to his log, which would need to be checked as soon as possible.
Clavin had apparently been attacked as he had been leaving the underground. Something with sharp teeth had bitten through his leg at the ankle. The foot came off while Clavin desperately climbed out of reach. Unfortunately he bled to death before he could call for help.
Clavin's phone had been found in his hand, open to make a call. He only had time to dial a 9 and a 1 before he collapsed.
7
The cloaked man went over the reports he had culled from the transmitters he used. The sun had been down an hour as he planned in his secret room atop the Clock Tower. It would take days to search the whole sewer system for a lair.
The two attacks did offer some clues where he could concentrate his efforts. He knew the police were doing the same thing, centering their search pattern where the two dead men were found. He felt the cannibal would avoid their search for easier prey.
Perhaps a lone man would be a more attractive target than a swarm of armed uniforms out for blood.
The cloaked man smiled, scars on his face twisting in knots at his cheerfulness.
8
Joe and Frank stood at the end of a line of a Special Tactics squad. They didn't have to be there, but Joe wanted to be in on the search instead of waiting back at the office. So they had grabbed vests and helmets and descended into the sewer with this team. The beams from their flashlights danced on the murky water as they walked along the first leg of their search area.
Pictures of the victims had been shown to the search parties. Caution and readiness had been urged by Lt. Jeb Abrams as he went over the material for the platoon he was fielding for the search. None of his troops should be thinking this was a routine bust. They would be on someone else's home turf, and he had already shown that he would gladly kill anyone he caught unprepared.
Joe walked along, wishing he had been able to get an H&K instead of the service pistol he did carry.
9
The nighttime crusader had adopted a disguise as a sewer worker, a small amount of makeup covered his natural features in case he ran into any members of the dragnet that had spread throughout the system. He had a great deal of skill pretending to be other people, but he didn't think that would help him in this case.
He needed to be lucky enough to attract the sewer cannibal's attention in such a way he could trap the man, or woman, while avoiding the police department's effort. He didn't know if the attacker would react aggressively to so many wandering its turf, or retreat to some hidden refuge under Church Hill.
He walked along, trying to move with sound which was contrary to his teachings. He couldn't bait the beast, if it couldn't hear him.
The disguised vigilante played his flashlight along the tunnel walls. He was sure that he had reached the area where the first victim had been attacked. He started along the sewer, reading signs along the walls to navigate to where he wanted to go. The dismembered parts had floated downstream to the filtration plant from somewhere. A covert look at the late worker's log had told the Fear that this was near where he had been going.
Two more blocks, and he was able to spot the manhole cover where the second victim had lost part of his leg. Playing the beam of his light around netted him traces of blood on the ladder leading out of the underground. He listened under the guise of trying to decide which way to go.
He thought he heard some scrabbling on the concrete tunnel's wall. He decided to follow the stream. Perhaps that would lead him to another clue. He knew he was moving into the cannibal's area of comfort.
If it knew he was inside its turf, maybe it would attack that much faster.
10
Joe paused at the edge of the protective ring the SWAT team had thrown up at a crossroads. He played his light around the tunnel as a small debate took place over where they should continue the search. Joe wasn't interest in which way as long as they could get the sweep over with.
He felt vulnerable as he listened to things move around in the dark just out of view of his flashlight. He should have stayed up top. He wouldn't feel closed in and threatened by every sound echoing along the tunnels.
The way things were going, he might shoot one of the SWAT men because of his nerves.
The policemen decided to take the right-hand fork. The map said that was the quickest way to press to the edge of the city, then they could turn and sweep through the lines connected to that line in the hopes the suspect wouldn't lead them on.
Joe had a feeling it wouldn't do that. This thing could be waiting for them to get close before it tried to pull one of them down in the water.
Joe fell in line as the group restarted its trek through the sewer lines. He played his light around as he searched for an ambush from any direction.
The police squad followed their plan. They tried to move silently in the water channels, lights on their weapons dancing on the walls. The briefing had given them some idea what kind of threat they were dealing with.
Church Hill was famous for the strangeness it attracted.
They lost Officer Macready under Fifty Third Street. They hadn't noticed at first. The squad reached a corner, regrouped to check their directions. That was when they noticed they were a man short.
They decided to retrace their steps.
11
The disguised Fear moved silently through the sewer. He had given up his pretense of making noise when he had discovered the squad of police searching beyond where he expected. He avoided their lights as he waited for them to keep going. He had no reason to be there, or any type of explanation that would stand up to more than a casual examination.
One of the policemen dropped his weapon as he was yanked backward. The move was done so fast and silently that the rest of the squad kept going.
The silent watcher might have missed the action too if he hadn't been watching for his own discovery. He moved down the tunnel after the slight noise he heard ahead of him. It didn't tell him much about what he was facing.
He would need some light to gauge his foe properly.
The vigilante checked his watch as he followed the slight movement of water leading him on. He had a little bit of daylight left. He didn't think the officer being dragged had that much time left.
He checked his equipment belt, pulling out a set of goggles. He placed them over his disguise, thumbing the switch on the side. He would have to be careful because any sudden source of light would blind him, but it was an acceptable risk.
He already knew what would happen if the policeman reached whatever lair the beast kept in the underground passages. There was no telling how many had been eaten before the first two victims were discovered. He had definitely learned his way around the sewers with the speed and general silence of his movements.
The Fear pulled off his disguise as the beast paused ahead. His scarred, lean visage hideously twisted as he let the mask drop in the water. It wouldn't do him any more good.
Finally a wide back came into view as the Fear closed on his quarry. The policeman appeared alive, thrown over the cannibal's shoulder. That was good. That meant he would have to stop ahead to eat him or her.
That would give the vigilante an opening he could exploit.
The Fear pulled a hood from the collar of his overalls. He pulled it low over his face as he followed the two to their destination. It couldn't be too much farther.
The cannibal paused at a smooth patch in the sewer wall. He pushed on it with a gallon-sized hand. An opening cracked under his touch. He pushed the secret door out of the way. The wall resumed its normal appearance as soon as he was across the sill.
The night goggles revealed a savage face with a heavy brow and enlarged jaw. Dirt turned into war paint on that fearsome visage.
The Fear smiled as he crossed the last few feet in a silent rush. It was time to enter the hungry lion's den. He would give it something to choke on.
12
The cannibal dropped Officer Macready in a heap on a bare stone floor. He had been able to stock his larder, and would stop hunting until things cooled down. He possessed natural weapons, but stopping a bullet was not high on his list of things to do.
He walked over to a slab of concrete propped up as a makeshift door. One pull of his tremendous arms moved the vault door out of the way. His next two meals looked at him with frightened eyes. Their chains were still attached to their wrists by cuffs he had twisted into shape with his blunt fingers. An empty set of cuffs waited on the floor for the SWAT member.
The cannibal crossed the room to pick up the officer. His hand wrapped around the scruff of policeman's neck. Macready's cap fell off, revealing long hair bunched at the back of her head. It fell loose as he carried her toward his pantry.
Enough for a week at least if he rationed himself.
He was unprepared for Macready kicking him in the leg. That didn't make him drop her. He smiled as he slapped her once. She stopped moving again.
"Needed tenderizing?," a whispering voice said from the secret door.
The cannibal was caught off guard by the sudden voice in his sanctuary. The underground told its every secret to him so that he could hunt the surface dwellers who dared his domain. He enjoyed their flesh immensely.
He turned to face this new prey. A lean wolf face smiled back at him, long scars marring the surface with paler skin. Gray eyes burned under long brows. White hair hung from under the cover of a hood, attached to overalls. A smile crossed the thin bloodless lips of the hideous face.
"I know what you're thinking," the whisperer said. "You're thinking one more chicken for the pot."
The cannibal paused because that was what he was thinking as he closed on the invader of his domain.
"You're too stupid to worry about who might be behind me," said the hooded man. "Too stupid to realize that they are going to lock you away in a freak show for the rest of your life. Too stupid to be afraid of what I can do to you."
The cannibal roared at the gibes. He charged at the waiting vigilante. One bite would fix this meddler for a raw blue plate special. Then he could dispose of the remains over the next few days.
Then he would hole up for a while until he could begin picking off his prey like he used to do.
The cannibal reached for the hooded man's throat with his sausage fingers. Then he would go for the throat with his overdeveloped teeth. His hands passed through where the man was standing as the scarred intruder ducked. The cannibal felt a yank on his belt. Then the floor rubbed his face raw as he hit and slid.
"How does it feel to know you're going to be a captive freak in a cage the rest of your life?," the hooded man asked. "Little kids with their pointing fingers. Look at the monkey, Mommy."
The cannibal got to his feet, flexing his hands. He took a deep breath, letting the raw place on his face bleed without touching it. He needed to think, not get wrapped up in his anger. He had already underestimated this man once.
The cannibal walked to his opponent, arms out for a grappling move. If he could secure a grip, then he could bite. He couldn't allow this man to keep throwing him around and wear him down until he couldn't fight any more.
A fist jabbed the cannibal in the face. He barely felt it as he went for that arm before it could withdraw from his space. His massive hand closed around the hooded man's forearm. One bite and the arm would come off.
The cowled man raised his closed other hand. He brought it forward in a punch aimed at the cannibal's nose. Gray smoke erupted from the fist on contact. The smoke quickly became a cloud swallowing the two duelists. Then the smaller man stepped out of the cloud.
"Maybe they'll put you in the reptile house with the crocodiles," he jeered as he stepped away from the miasma he had created. One hand twitched, dropping another capsule into his palm from a slide holder concealed by the sleeve of his overalls.
The choking cannibal lurched out of the gas cloud, clutching at his face. He growled when he spotted his nemesis standing a few feet away. He charged with the animal speed he had cultivated in the sewer. His hands reached for the scar face's throat, needing to strangle his tormentor.
The cowled man dropped the capsule in his hand as he stepped back out of reach. The cannibal kept going, evidently not seeing the gesture. A small bubble of heat turned into a wave of light blasting the muscle man into the air. He crashed into the cracked concrete ground in a trail of burning cloth.
"This concludes the lesson of the day," said the cowled man, shaking the arm that had been grabbed. Bruises were already fighting their way to the top of his skin. Something he would have to live with for a while.
Nothing was broken. That's what mattered.
epilogue
He watched from a rooftop as the cannibal was loaded in an ambulance. Freeing the intended meals had been child's play. Not letting them get a good look at his face had been harder. He hoped the detectives knew what they were doing.
His involvement would not be known except to the cannibal. Some would believe whatever he told them about what happened. They would think he was a persecuted victim of police brutality.
Only those that had been in his secret lair would know he was a monster living off the flesh of those that came too close.
The cowled man vanished from his perch. It wasn't his job to judge. That was better left to others