A Different Kind of Treasure

A Different Kind of Treasure

by Michael Shimek

The lake was quiet and serene, still like a pane of sapphire glass; not a wave or ripple invaded its surface. Tall grass and reeds encircled the area, sucking up the water for nourishment. Trees from the forest reached up towards the blotted out sky, with small rays of sun seeping through to the mossy floor. Birds and other woodland creatures flew and scuttled around the wilderness. The Luvarian Forest was beautiful indeed, even if it was filled with mysteries that more often than not proved to be dangerous.

         It wasn’t the gorgeous scenery that had brought Jerich Fermish to this isolated spot. No, he was here for one thing: love. To some it might sound corny or too emotional for a man, but a quest for love is the noblest of them all—a lesson and moral taught to him by his now deceased father. In his land of the coasts and forests of Luvarii, the tender emotion was the strongest magic around. In fact, the Luvarii origin was always told through a story of love, love between anything and everything. Its strength created a harmony that powered the world. So it wasn’t too uncharacteristic for him to be on this journey to find his one true love.

         Jerich had fought his way through the dense vegetation, the ferocious animals and creatures, and the traps hiding behind every corner to find this location, this tiny little lake with the single castle tower poking out of a small island in the middle. Green vines and leaves snaked their way up the grey and black stones. Crumbled bricks that had fallen with age partially blocked a small opening at the tower’s base. The tower barely reached three body lengths high, and the width hardly looked big enough for someone to fit inside, but he knew it was his destiny to enter the structure. Even so, Jerich was adamant about continuing forward; with everything he’s had to put up with so far, that lake looked a little too peaceful for his comfort. It didn’t matter. There wasn’t a danger frightening enough to scare him away from finding his destined love.

         “So, what are you going to do?”

         The voice came from behind Jerich, startling him. He would have jumped into his defense stance, but he immediately recognized the voice. “I’m not sure,” he said.

          A floating mist of a constantly changing rainbow of colors whipped around to hover directly in front of Jerich. “Please tell me you can swim, can’t you?”

         “Of course I can swim,” he said. “I’m only thinking, Carl.” Jerich thought the name was odd, one never heard of in his land. But the entity had said it was a name from a life past lived and from a different world than his.

         “Good,” Carl said. “I should hope a hero such as yourself has the ability to swim. You wouldn’t be much of a hero if you couldn’t.”

         He waved the mist off. “Why don’t you leave me alone? Go back to wherever you came from.”

         “And miss this entertaining adventure? I don’t think so. Besides, you’d be plant food by now if it weren’t for me.”

         A slight scowl formed across Jerich’s face. It was true. While hacking away at a carnivorous plant of leafy vines, the colorful mist had appeared. At first only an observer, Carl soon offered some lifesaving advice when Jerich’s fate appeared sealed. The Pliviny constricts even more when its prey struggles and fights for freedom; to escape its clutches, Jerich went limp and easily slid free from the loosening vines. And for the next three days, the apparition showed up occasionally to offer other helpful suggestions; although, his help usually came in the form of cynicism.

         Jerich chose to ignore Carl and focus on the quest at hand.

         Standing at the edge of the lake, with his leather wrapped shoes almost touching the questionable looking water, Jerich began the process of undressing himself. He didn’t want to be weighted down by wet clothing, so he decided to wrap everything up in his waterproof bull hide pack while wading through the water. His shoes, made from the wings of a real dragon, went in first. Then he took off his silk armor, which was made by the Swampland Faerie—friends of the Luvariian people—and as tough as rock and as light as dust, and placed it in the sack next. He slipped out of his soft and cushioned chain-mail pants and put those in after. The last item was his magic-infused sword, which was rather large and stuck out at the top of the pack. With everything ready, he picked up his pack and raised it above his head.

            About to enter the water, he stopped when he saw his own naked reflection on the surface. Dark hair hung down to his shoulders, ragged and dirty from his long travel. Thick stubble peppered his face. His buff body had cuts and bruises scattered about, looking worn from his journey’s trials. Although physically and mentally drained, he could not give up. The end was near; he could feel it.

            Jerich entered the water. The surface rippled out from where his feet sank into the cool lake. Sensing and seeing no immediate danger, he waded out to his waist. Then to his chest. Then to his neck. Finally, the water level began to drop and soon enough he was standing in front of the deteriorating tower.

            Something wet and slimy wrapped around Jerich’s waist, yanking him back into the water. Caught off guard he barely had enough time to take in a full breath before the water enveloped him. He could see the mist of Carl flashing colors above the surface as he sank with whatever latched onto him. Reflexes kicked in. He pulled his sword free from his pack and sliced it through the water. After a few jabs, the creature let go and the tentacle freed Jerich from its clutches. He reached the surface gasping for breath.

            “Thanks for the warning,” he said to Carl as he swam back to the tower, sword and pack still in tow. “Didn’t you see it?”

            “Oh, I saw it. It was of no danger to you; I knew you could handle it. Besides, what kind of quest would this be if I warned you about every little obstacle? There would be no fun in that.”

            The floating spirit had a point.

            Jerich dried off and redressed. Keeping a watchful eye, he returned his attention to the old castle tower.

            “Looks like a tight squeeze,” Carl said, referring to the small, crumbled opening into the tower.

            “I can fit,” Jerich said as he unpacked and redressed.

            “I don’t know. I bet you get stuck.”

            “Thanks for the positive encouragement.”

            Eyeing the opening, Jerich began to think his companion was right. Large blocks had fallen over time to cover most of the entrance. He walked around the structure, but the hole was the only way in. Bending down, he started to crawl and squeeze through the stone and rock. The interior was cold, smelling of death, decay, and evil enchantments. He could only make out a small, stone staircase that spiraled down into the darkness. Scooting farther into the hole, he made it halfway before becoming wedged stuck at his waist. Wiggling, pulling, and pushing had no effect. He waited for the told you so by his follower.

            “Hmm, I wonder how you’ll get out of this predicament.”

            There it was.

            “Well,” Jerich said, “I would love any advice in the situation.”

            “I’m not so sure. This may be how you die: alone, stuck, and so close to the end.”

            Jerich’s ears pricked up. “Carl, are you saying I’m close? Are you saying that you know the end of my quest draws near?” The thought of being close to finding his true love energized his body, pumping him with the strength of four adult-sized sea dragons—rare enough to almost be a myth, sea dragons are considered the most powerful creatures alive.

            After a time of silence, Carl finally spoke. “It is a possibility.”

            Jerich tore at the stones that caged him. His fingernails threatened to pop off from the ferocious digging. Finding a loose stone, he pulled it free from the wall. The tower shook. Rocks fell around him, and he could feel the hole close. Thinking he would be crushed to death, the ground under him gave way, sending him into a free fall.

            With a painful bang against his head, Jerich’s world faded away.

#

            “Hey, buddy. Are you going to ever wake up?”

            Buddy? The word was a new one to Jerich, but then he put a name to the voice.

            “Carl, what happened?”

            He tried to rise, but pain flared throughout Jerich’s body. His legs hurt, his arms hurt, and his back hurt, but most of the pain radiated from a spot on the back of his head. He touched the wound with his hand, and his fingers came back wet and sticky.

            “You fell,” Carl said.

            “And where am I?” he asked.

            “On the bottom of the tower.”

            “Can you tell me where to go? Or offer some light for assistance?” Nothing could be seen, everything was bathed in black darkness.

            “I cannot,” Carl said. “I would also recommend keeping the sounds to a minimum; there are some not so nice things down here that have probably already heard your arrival.”

            Jerich stumbled to stand up and then remained still. He listened for any movement other than his own. Hearing nothing, he fumbled through his pack to find something that would allow him to see. His hand found what he looked for and he pulled out a small amount of powder. He rubbed the powder into his eyes and waited for them to adjust—Night Powder, a mix of ground herbs, allows any creature with eyes to see through the night for a short period of time.

            The darkness slowly brightened up. The walls around him opened into a tunnel. With it being the only way out, he followed his destiny down the path. Cautiously snaking his way around a few turns, the tunnel eventually spread out to form a large cavern.

            Odd formations of spiraled crystals and glowing, furry stalks grew from the stone walls. A black and smooth box about the size of a coffin hovered in the middle of the room, suspended in the air by an unknown magic. The steady rhythm of dripping water echoed throughout the chamber.

            Jerich’s heart raced. A foreseeing gypsy servant of the Spelled Elders had told him that, “Your love awaits/Trapped high in floating magic is truly tragic/Only a kiss will wake.” And here it was, a levitating coffin that contained his goal. Only one last obstacle to overcome before meeting the woman he would forever call his soul mate.

            As the Night Powder wore off, darkness seeped his vision. He looked around for anything to help him see in the dark when brilliant flashes blinked throughout the cave. Little balls of light swirled and flickered in the open area. They moved around in the air, appearing out of nowhere and growing in numbers. Moving towards the hovering coffin, the lights joined together until all of them blinked and flashed as one.

            A large, humanoid figure made entirely of light towered over Jerich, standing in Jerich’s way of true love.

            He unsheathed the sword from his side. Standing his ground, he stood ready to fight. The monster swiped at him with a boulder-sized hand. Jerich jumped and leaped out of the way. Another hand came down from above. He rolled out of the way as the strong creature broke apart the floor with a tremendous crash. He charged the light monster, squinting his eyes from the brightness. Because of his narrowed vision, he missed the arm that barreled into him. A burning sensation sent him flying into the cavern wall. Dazed and burnt, the determined man stood up to face his foe.

            The light demon bellowed a roar of sparks and charged.

            Jerich stood his ground, his sword pointed defiantly in front of him.

            As the monster approached, Jerich began his own charge. An arm swung at him. He dodged the limb and dove under the monster’s legs. Sliding along the floor, Jerich swung his weapon at a passing leg. Slicing into the light, a black liquid spewed forth. The creature howled in pain and fell to the ground. Taking advantage of his fallen enemy, Jerich took his sword and brought it down with all of his strength into its back.

            As the black life force gushed from the defeated light beast, a rumbling betook the underground lair. The tiny lights that made up the monster fell away to fly and twirl towards the floating box. Soon, the box was ablaze with a brilliant light. A staircase made of stone rose from the floor, step by step leading up to the glowing coffin.

            “Well, what are you waiting for?”

            Jerich turned to see the mist of colors next to him. “I don’t know. I think I’m nervous.”

            “Don’t be. This is what you’ve journeyed so far and fought so brave for. Go and meet your love. Remember, though, love comes in all different ways.”

            Jerich was about to question Carl’s last statement, but the spirit disappeared.

            With shaking nerves, he walked forward and climbed the stairs until the closed coffin hovered before him. Wondering how to open the construct, he placed his hand on the lit surface and watched the brightness dim to a low glow. The top slid back to reveal the woman he would grow old with.

            Except that the box didn’t hold a woman, it contained an adult man.

            Jerich blinked in surprise. This was not what he imagined when thinking about what his true love would look like. During his quest, he envisioned leaning over to kiss a gorgeous woman on red and full lips. Her hair was long and blonde, and her body the perfect curvature. Never once did he picture a man. Not once.

            “A bit surprised?”

            “Very surprised,” Jerich said, not having to look up from the man to know that Carl was next to him.

            “Wasn’t what you expected, huh?”

            “Not at all.”

            “Well, are you going to kiss him or not?”

            “But he’s a man.”

            “So? You love him, don’t you? Ever since you started this quest, you were infused with love. It drove you to him. So kiss him, wake him up, and find happiness with him.”

            Jerich didn’t know what to do. He could feel the love in his heart beating stronger than ever before, but he wasn’t sure if he could love another man; it just wasn’t what he had in his mind.

            The stranger’s face was smooth and chiseled. Short, black hair styled the top of his head. A gown of elegant armor hinted at a toned body. Jerich’s mind questioned the situation, but his heart never faltered; this was person he was destined to be with.

            Same gender relationships were not uncommon in his culture or in other lands. The gender of a person never mattered when it came to love. As long as two people felt a deep affection for each other, gender was taken out of the equation. Love takes priority over all.

            His mind was made up.

            Jerich bent down and gently kissed the slumbering man’s lips.

            The man’s eyes opened wide in surprise. Before Jerich could do anything, he was launched backward as the cave heaved. He landed hard on the ground, but he wasn’t the only one who landed on the ground. He looked up into the eyes of the man he had just kissed.

            “Here,” he said, grabbing Jerich by the arm and hauling him to his feet. “We need to leave this place before we’re buried alive!”

            Jerich looked around at the crumbling cavern. It was dark, and the constant shaking hindered his thinking. Dodging falling rocks, he finally saw the familiar glow of Carl through the opening in one of the walls.

            He grabbed the man’s hand. “This way,” he said, leading them to what he hoped would be an exit.

            The two men ran for their lives. The opening led into a tunnel that eventually climbed up into bright daylight. They shot forth from the ground as it gave way, the cave closing after serving its purpose. When the dust settled, all they could do was stare at each other and collect their thoughts.

            “So, you’re the ‘love of my life’ who was supposed to wake me from the sleeping spell?” The man looked at Jerich with questionable eyes.

            “So, you’re the ‘love of my life’ who I was supposed to wake and spend the rest of my life with?” He mimicked the man’s expression.

            They both burst into a chuckle.

            “Anyway, thanks for waking me. I’m Finel.” Finel extended his hand in a formal greeting.

            He took the man’s firm hand. “I’m Jerich, and you are welcome.” He looked around at their surroundings, and guessing from the wooded area, they were most likely still in the Luvarian Forest. He looked back at his new acquaintance and said, “Now what?”

            “I don’t know about you,” Finel said, “but sleeping that long has given me quite an appetite.”

            Jerich felt his own stomach rumble with hunger. “I could use some nourishment. It wasn’t easy waking you.”

            “I bet. Are we in the Luvarian Forest? It looks familiar. If we are, I can pick some herbs, kill some meat, and cook us a meal while you inform me on what I’ve missed while awaiting your arrival.” He paused and then added, “Which felt like eternity, by the way.”

            Jerich could already tell Finel would quickly grow on him. The man reminded him a lot of himself: strong, independent, caring, and a bit more forward than most people. He had finally finished his quest. He had finally found his true love.

            With a huge grin on his face, he said, “That sounds perfect, especially with you doing all of the physical work; I could use a rest.”

END

The Roars are Coming

The Roars are Coming

By Michael Shimek

It was supposed to be an easy job: kidnap the kid, hold and watch the kid for five days until the bosses show up, get paid. Easy as pie, as his mother used to say, God rest her soul. Well, okay, maybe not that easy. There was the responsibility of feeding him and keeping him in line, making sure he didn’t try anything stupid like trying to escape. But no one said he would be babysitting a little monster.

       Monty sat on the fancy black and leather couch--most likely stolen--that was up against the wall opposite the room, the cell, that held the kidnapped child. His foot tapped the cement ground repeatedly, his nerves getting the better of him as he stared at the closed and locked door. Whoops, playful yells, and the sound of things being thrown around, all the sounds of someone making a messy ruckus, came from behind the steel door.

       “The roars are coming, Mr. Man. Rawr!” The kid was loud whenever he made the roaring noise, louder and deeper than a normal kid his age should be.

       “Shut up, kid!” Monty couldn’t think straight with the kid acting weird and loud and annoying. The child was really starting to get on his nerves. The thought of striking a child had never crossed his mind, but this little brat was testing him for sure. “If you don’t shut up, I will come back there and shut you up myself!”

       A child’s laugh came from the back room, followed by more roaring noises and his incessant jumping around.

       “Ugh!” Monty screamed. He got up and stormed out of the warehouse, slamming the door behind him. He wanted to yell into the cool night air, but he knew that really loud noises could bring unwanted attention if someone happened to be within hearing distance. It was late, with the large, full moon--maybe that was it, the kid was acting out because it was a full moon--peeking out now and then to say hello from the cloud scattered sky that was lit up from the bright city lights, and they were situated in a part of the city even the police were hesitant about. But as much as he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, he still couldn’t risk it.

       He pulled out a cigarette from the pack--Marlboro 27s--in his jeans, lit the end, and inhaled deeply as he let the smoke fill his tar-ridden lungs. Ah, his vice. Smoking always helped him calm down, a temporary escape from the world’s stresses and anxieties. As much as he willed them to, the cancer sticks just weren’t cutting it lately. It was this job; he wasn’t going to be able to handle this goddamn job much longer. One more night. Just one more night and he would be rich.

#

       “Hey, Monty,” the scruffy voice said on the other end of the cell phone. “It’s Vince.”

       “I know who it is. What do you want? My debt with you has been paid off for five months now.”

       “Hey, I know, I know. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. You remember Donny?”

       “That fat-ass piece-of-shit you call a boss?”

       “Whoa, Monty. Don’t go saying such hurtful things. You never know who could be listening.”

       Monty made sure to keep his running mouth quiet. Donny was a lazy sack who had his minions do all his bidding for him. He vowed never to get involved with Donny and his goons again once his ten thousand dollar gambling debt had been paid off earlier in the year.

       “Why are you calling me, Vince?” Monty got straight to the point.

       There was a slight pause before the man on the other end continued. “I was wondering if you wanted to help out with a job.”

       “I’m not interested. Sorry.”

       “It pays well.”

       “I told you, I’m not interested.”

       “It pays very well, Monty.”

       “I’m hanging up.”

       Monty was about to end the call when Vince spoke up one more time.

       “Five hundred thousand dollars, Monty.”

       The high numbers flashing through his head caused him to pause for a long time. That was a lot of money. A lot of money. Retiring money. Not that he really had anything to retire from, though; he was currently between jobs, earning his money by peddling fake designer watches, wallets, shirts, and the like on the streets. That kind of stuff would be a thing of the past if the money were true. He would be set for life.

       “You still there?” Vince asked.

       “Yeah, yeah. I’m thinking.”

       “You’d be rich, Monty. That’s settling down money. Donny needs an answer in two days, so don’t take too long thinking about it.”

       Vince hung up, leaving Monty to regret ever picking up the phone in the first place.

#

       That was one week ago, and now he was stuck babysitting a five-year-old child with a major ADD problem. The only thing getting him through it was the thought of all that money coming his way in the end. That and the many cigarette breaks to help calm his nerves.

       Monty finished the last of his cigarette and snubbed the butt out under his shoe. He needed to get back inside and make sure little Jimmy was behaving himself.

       Little Jimmy Reinhold, son of Alexander and Meredith Reinhold, was worth an estimated fifteen million. At least that’s how much Donny “Big D” Pantini was ransoming the kid for. The Reinhold’s could afford it. Easily. The Reinhold name was stamped onto every art gallery and museum in the eastern half of the United States. Getting his start in the stock market, and getting very lucky, Alexander Reinhold III began investing in finding places to house small galleries or artists he liked or were his friends. He quickly became popular, finding the hippest and trendiest spots in a city to open a new art center, and with that popularity came even more fortune. He was an artist himself, selling several paintings and sculptures to other rich and famous people around the world--Johnny Depp owned a piece that was proudly displayed in his home. With the Reinhold name at its peak in popularity, Donny thought it was about time he got in on his share of the profits. The man was operating and living in New York City, Donny’s neighborhood, so it made perfect sense for Big D to get his cut.

       And now Monty would be getting a cut as well, even if the amount was small compared to what Big D was asking for. Money is money, and now he’ll have enough to live his life how he really envisioned it. He was already making plans in his head with what to do with all that cash. He’d always wanted to live in the Caribbean and with five hundred thousand dollars his dream would come true. A life of quiet relaxation in the sun. Who would want more? Not Monty. He was a simple guy who enjoyed the simple things in the world.

       Walking back into the warehouse, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to finish the job. He could hear the thrashing and destruction that kid was making in the tiny room. That kid, man! He’d never had to put up with someone as obnoxious and troublesome as that kid. He probably should have known the minute Vince put Jimmy in his care.

#

       “Here ya go, kid,” the large and thick man said, throwing the screaming and flailing child into the small room.  He landed against the wall on the other side with a thud and then landed on the mattresses that had been laid out for his arrival. “Make sure you behave yourself for good ole’ Monty here. Otherwise you’ll be seeing me again.” Jimmy got up from the makeshift bed and made a run for the door, but Vince was quicker and slammed it in the kid’s face.

       Monty stood nervously in the background of it all, wincing every time he thought Vince’s large hands were hurting the little boy. He looked so small and frail, a skinny little twerp who was probably not even four-and-a-half feet tall. While Vince had been manhandling Jimmy, Monty noticed one of the man’s hands could almost envelop the child’s head. He envisioned Vince doing so and then squeezing until the head burst like a grapefruit. Vince’s muscular hands could probably do it, too; Monty once saw him crush a man’s windpipe with only one hand. The man was vicious.

       “Well, my job is done for now.” Vince turned his attention away from the prison cell and turned to Monty. “Now it’s your turn, Monty. This is a big a job. The biggest job Donny’s ever attempted. Keep him fed and attend to his needs. Make sure nothing happens. You have no idea how important this is. Don’t. Fuck. This. Up.”

       Monty choked down a gulp. He was always so nervous and fidgety around the intimidating brute. He reached down into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette from his pack to smoke. He greeted the soothing smoke with pleasure. Jimmy Reinhold was constantly screaming and pounding in the background; Monty tried his best to ignore the wailing pleas.

       “So, can you handle this, Monty? Did we find the right guy for the job?”

       “Yeah. Of course.” He had to take a few more long drags to soothe his mind.

       “Good,” Vince said, now with a large grin on his face. “And, put that out. No smoking in here. You can smoke outside.” He plucked the half-smoked stick from Monty’s mouth and crushed it under one of his large boots. Monty knew well enough not to protest.

       “Now, before I go, are there any questions?”

       “Well...”

       “Because there should be none. We went through everything you need and need to know. You have money for food, I think Donny was a little too generous in that department. How much can a kid really eat in five days anyways? And you have all the amenities in this warehouse a normal apartment would have. You’re set, and will be set if it all goes as planned. You have my cell, but I don’t want to hear from you. Donny and me will come by on Friday to pick up and deliver him back to his parents. That is, if they pay.”

       Monty didn’t want to think about what would happen if the kid’s parents didn’t pony up the dough. The message left was loud and clear: if you don’t pay, little Jimmy’s throat gets slit and his body gets thrown in the Hudson. Would Big D really kill a child? He pushed the gruesome thought out of his head.

       Without saying another word, Vince had left Monty. He was now alone, all by himself, babysitting a ten-year-old for the better part of a week. It was a big job, a huge responsibility. He’d never taken care of a child before. He never wanted kids. And now he was stuck with one. One worth five hundred thousand. And then there was the possibility of getting caught. He knew if anyone was going down, it would be him. That’s why he was asked to take care of Jimmy Reinhold; he was the perfect chump to pin it all on.

       Was it worth it?

#

       That question had run through his head so many times in the past four days he had lost count. And it was definitely going through his head now as he approached little Jimmy’s holding cell. Things seemed a little quieter than they should be. Too quiet. What was that little shit up to?

       Monty’s footsteps echoed through the suspiciously quiet warehouse. The place was basically a big, huge empty room. Large, rusty beams shot up from the ground, barely holding the old structure from caving in. The only windows were a single row that ran along the entire building near the top--most of them were probably broken by hooligans trying to have a quick blast by breaking some glass, which littered the floor along the walls. The only other thing in the warehouse was the previously empty room--well, there was a toilet and sink in there--that now made do as a holding cell for a small, young boy.

       Jimmy’s usual wild behavior had quieted down and now there wasn’t a peep coming from the other side of the steel door. Monty’s hand rested on the door handle, his nerves making his hand shake a little as he gripped the handle. He put his ear up to the door. There was nothing. The only time the child was quiet was during the night, but even then the kid’s snoring was loud enough to wake all of New York City. There wasn’t even the snoring this time.

       Something was up. And if that brat thought he was going to get the better of him, then he truly underestimated Montgomery James. He was thirty-eight, and Jimmy was only ten. So why was he still afraid?

       “I’m coming in, kid!” he yelled through the door. “If you try anything at all I’m gonna wring that little neck of yours. Capiche?”

       There was no answer.

       Sighing, hoping there wasn’t going to be any trouble, Monty unlocked the door and slowly pulled it open. The bright light from inside seeped out into the darker warehouse. There was no movement, so Monty opened the door until it was wide open. He studied the inside, but there was no Jimmy Reinhold.

       The room was a mess. Jimmy had been given many things to keep him busy and entertained while being held ransom. There were coloring books, crayons, and markers for him to draw with. A shitty TV was placed in the corner with a Nintendo 64 attached to it with several cables and many games to choose from. He had a couple of mattresses to sleep and play on. The kid had everything he needed. All of it, everything he had been given, was broken and shredded and thrown around the room. The TV was broken and shattered on the floor. Papers were torn and scattered. The mattresses were ripped apart, with the foamy insides gutted and their skeletal springs showing. The walls had been colored on; squiggly lines were drawn around the room in every color.

       But there was no sign of the kid.

       “What the? Kid you better show--”

       A deep, growly voice that came from behind the messy mattresses cut him off. “The roars are here, Mr. Man! I told you they were coming.” The voice was followed by an unearthly growl. Tufts of black hair poked out from behind the mattresses. When they moved, he slammed the door.

       What the hell was that?

       He locked the door as fast as he could. A loud crashing noise, probably the lights breaking, came from behind the steel door. Monty, trembling in his sneakers, backed away from the door. He fell onto the couch when the pounding began.

       Bang! The steel door shuddered in its frame.

       “I’m coming for you, Mr. Man!”

       Bang! The steel door shuddered again.

       “Mr. Maaaannnn! You’re going to be so tasty!”

       Bang! The steel door almost came free, barely holding.

       “I can smell you! Mmmmm!”

       Bang! The steel door flew from its frame, flying to the ground.

       Deep, yellow eyes glowed from the darkness that was within. A rough snarl echoed.

       It was at that moment Monty finally found his nerves and ran. Never turning back--because he knew the second he turned his head the kid, that thing, would have him--he ran for his life. His footfalls echoed through the warehouse. He was halfway to the door when he heard the loud and heavy stomps behind him, gaining on him. His right arm reached the door to the outside. He pulled and was slammed against the door, shutting his escape. Sharp pains dug into his back as he was brought face-first into the ground. Something weighing a ton began to drag him back into the warehouse. Monty screamed and clawed at the cement ground. His fingernails snapped off, leaving bloody clawing marks on the floor.

       Before disappearing into the cell that once held a kid, and then a monster, Monty couldn’t help but think how this was not the way this should have ended. He should have ended up rich, living on a beach somewhere in the tropics. He wasn’t supposed to die by what was once a ten-year-old boy biting into his neck and ripping his head off.

#

       “Try him one more time, and then we’re going in.”

       Vince sat nervously in the driver’s seat of Donny’s black GMC Denali XT. He had his cell phone up to his ear. Come on, Monty. What’s taking you so long? You know the boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting. I’m gonna hurt that fucker. It was the third time he had tried Monty’s cell phone and received no answer. They were parked outside the warehouse, and if they had to go in, Vince would get some shit for it.

       “That’s it,” Big D said. “I’m going in there. If those rich assholes won’t pony up the money, I’ll have to show them I mean business with a few mailed boxes, each containing one of the boy’s ten fingers. Did you hear what they responded back with? They said we better watch ourselves, that we are in store for a special treat. How dare they mock me! I really should just kill the kid outright and show them who runs this city.”

       Donny opened the back door--he liked to have someone be his chauffeur, making him look important--and stepped out into the cool night. Vince sighed; he knew this was not going to end well. He got out of the car and followed the boss. It was a short walk to the other side of the building, where the entrance was, and Big D never stopped complaining.

       “Damn that Monty character, making me wait and waist precious time. What did you promise him after this whole deal?”

       “Five hundred thousand,” Vince answered, quickly to add, “Like you said, boss.”

       “Maybe we should just let him go. He doesn’t have any friends, does he? He wouldn’t be missed?”

       “No one would know.” Monty was usually a decent enough guy, and Vince didn’t really want to put a bullet in the man. But if Big D decided it was so, then it was so.

       “Hmm, I’ll think about it. Maybe he could do some more business for us to get on my good side. I’ll have a little talk with him when he finally shows himself.”

       The two arrived to find the door to the warehouse busted out from its hinges, wide open for anyone to just enter.

       “Is this a joke? Is Monty not taking this job seriously?”

       Vince laid his hand on the gun at his hip. “Monty wouldn’t be that stupid to leave the door open. Look how it’s all busted up. I think something’s up.”

       Vince could see a little fright enter Big D’s eyes. The man always tried to play it smooth and cool, but Vince knew the man got scared fairly easily. And whenever the boss was scared, he would send one of his goons to solve the problem, so Vince knew exactly how this would play out. He would get sent in to make sure everything was safe.

       “Well, what are you waiting for?” the large man asked his lackey. “Go in and see what’s going on.”

       “Of course,” he replied, taking out his silenced pistol.

       Vince walked into the empty warehouse. There was no one around. But there were definite signs of something out of place going on. He could see a spot on the ground where it looked like someone had been dragged and the cement had been clawed at. Looking closer, he saw spots of blood and six to seven bloody things that looked like fingernails. He followed the trail of blood, which grew larger and larger, until he reached the room where the kid was supposed to be staying. God, Monty, if you let that kid escape... The door to the room was lying in front of the black couch; it looked like it had been torn off by something large. Big dents were in the steel door and nothing small could have done that. The bloody trail led into the dark room that should have held Jimmy Reinhold.

       “Monty? You in there?” He waited, his pistol pointed down into the room, but there was no answer in return. “Monty? Jimmy?” Nothing.

       Vince cautiously walked into the dark room. He couldn’t make much out, but it looked like the placed had been ransacked. He could make out a broken television on the ground and a large lump that had to be the mattresses. Then there was the other large lump on the floor, the one that looked an awful lot like a body. He took a slow step forward and stepped into a slimy substance that was pooled on the floor around the body-like lump.

       “Monty?”

       “Vince!” The yell came from inside the warehouse. It was followed by two shots from a gun. Then by more yelling. “Oh, God! Help me, Vince! Ah!” Two more shots, and then a horrible ripping and gurgling sound. And was that a snarl? Vince heard a splash and then saw a round object looking a lot like Donny’s big, bald head roll by the entrance to the small room he was in. It left a line of red across the dirty and grey cement floor.

       “Who’s there? I have a gun!” He yelled into the outside, hoping to God that whoever was out there would get scared and run.

       A deep roar answered him. “It’s me. I remember your smell. You brought me here and hurt me. And now I’m going to hurt you.”

       Vince aimed his pistol at the light that poured into the room. He could see the couch on the other side of the warehouse and that line of blood. Then there was a dark shadow that began to loom forward. Vince fired into the opening. The giggle of a child and a deep growl challenged him back. Vince backed up, walking deeper into the dark room that he was trapped in. He cowered behind the dirty, ripped apart mattresses.

       “The roars are here! I told the other one but he didn’t believe me. Here I come!”

       Vince was able to get three more shots off from his gun before the furry creature that was once a young little Jimmy Reinhold tore his neck wide open. He could see his own red blood splash against the dark, black fur and sharp, white teeth that snapped at him. The last thing he heard were snarls, growls, and a child’s giggles.

END