“The thing that has twisted Oscar and has Jack, the thing that has infected you with its myriad corruptions…and though I see you want to deny it, we assure you it is true, you are tainted…that thing, among other names, is called the Rot. It is a force of decay and chaos and entropy older than this world.”
This was the start of my conversation with a group of small monsters dressed in rat armor outside of the Red House, and for whatever reason, most likely shock or my mind finally coming free from whatever moorings it had left, I wasn’t bothered by the fact. I was so far into the dark of this terrible night that the twin lights of what was normal and what was sane were little more than faintly glowing ghostmarks in the distant, hollow black. Instead, I was only concerned with understanding. If I was going to help anyone, I needed to know what exactly in the fuck was going on.
“So it’s like an alien?”
The spokesman shook its fleshy head in a vaguely human fashion. “No, not alien. It is from this Realm of Creation and has always been here since the stars first flared to life and began to die. In many ways, it is far more natural to this place than we are.” Its voice was rough but delicate, with nuances of thought and emotion woven through every word and phrase. Listening to it reminded me faintly of the way some music can provoke deep feelings, though its voice wasn’t very melodic. Still, when it spoke next, tiny figure or not, I couldn’t help but feel a small thrill of fear and awe. These creatures were small, but they were powerful. Important. And the anger and contempt in the leader’s voice was not to be taken lightly.
“But just because it is natural does not make it good. To the contrary, it is one of the most destructive forces in the infinity of your universe.”
I frowned. “Why? How? What is it? Just rotting? Everything rots, right? How is that fucking up these guys?” Swallowing I added, “How is it tainting me?”
The tiny creature folded its armored claws together in front of it with solemnity. “It is not the normal decay of matter or energy we are dealing with, Jeff. This is an entity. A being of great power and an implacably malign will. In many ways, it could be thought of as a lesser god, though it has few that worship it for one simple reason. It does not rely on belief for its power and it takes what it wants by force.”
“The Rot, despite its perennial and ubiquitous nature, always hungers for more, and while its existence may be natural, its tainted touch is not. At its core, it is a defiler. It spreads its influence here, and on the infinite other versions of here, through the cracks that it finds. Places and people and things that are lost or abandoned. Forgotten and forlorn. It gets into their hearts and twists them into something far different and far worse—into slaves that serve whatever purposes such an old and wretched thing might have.
The small monster put a clawed hand to its chest. “We are not from here, but many of us have made these worlds our homes and seek to protect them as we are able.”
I raised my hand and when it nodded, I asked. “What are you? A good alien or something?”
Its shoulders shook as it chortled slightly. “We are not from another planet, no. We are from another Realm of existence that is commonly called Incarnata. Those you see before you are just one of a multitude of various kinds that inhabit that place. Some good, some evil, though with the implied understanding that these are frequently arbitrary terms of limited subjective value. As for our own…moral alignment…I can put it like this.”
It pointed a fur-covered glove toward the Red House. “We oppose the Rot and the harm it would do to this world and those that live in it. Since time out of mind we have fought to stem the tide of its growth and corruption. And rest assured of one thing, Mr. Spires. Whatever we are or may be, there is no sane and accurate definition of the Rot that does not describe it as truly and objectively evil.”
“I’m not a bad guy, Jack. Really I’m not. Am I the best person in the world?” Oscar shook his head, beads of sweat slinging off of him as he moved. “No, can’t say I am. I am the best husband?” He let out a small and nasty laugh as he cut his eyes toward me. “Well, I guess that’s a matter of perspective, but I know there’s an argument that eating Jenny like a cantaloupe was in bad taste at the very least.” He paused, fixing me with his eyes again as he sat down on an outcropping of packed earth nearby. “Not that Jenny tasted bad, mind you. She was damned delicious, if you don’t mind me bragging on her a bit. Hell, if I had known what kind of good eating I was missing out on, I might have done it well before I got taken to this place for the first time.”
“This place” was a hollowed out earthen room sitting in the middle of a nest of tunnels that seemed to run under the property, or at least Zone Five. I had only gotten terrified glimpses of other tunnels as I was drug past them, but I know I saw more than ten, which led me to think they were deep and widespread. My guess was that the room Oscar had taken me to was somewhere between the Red House and the Grey House, but that was only a guess. What was certain was, even with all I had encountered recently, that room was the most horrifying thing I had ever seen.
The walls were of brown earth, packed tight and ran through with roots and writhing worms, though most of those were on whatever was covering much of the bare dirt. Thick, oozing slabs of what looked like rotting meat were pressed into place here and there along the floor, walls, and ceiling. All of it covered in a clear, viscous mucus that seemed to bind the corrupted flesh together, and between the smell from the meat and that fluid, I had begun gagging thirty feet before we even reached the room. As we cleared the threshold, my horror and revulsion at my surroundings began to dull my nausea as my understanding grew.
This meat…much of it was made from people. Among the tufts of animal fur and snouts, I would see a hand or a foot or a face here or there. A couple of them I even recognized as derelicts or junkies we had run off repeatedly over the last few months. Had Oscar done all this?
As though reading my mind, Oscar’s smile widened. “No, I can’t take credit for all this. The Rot doesn’t like to dirty its hands too much—that’s what its got people like me for, you see—but it is capable of quite a bit. And I know, a lot of this seems strange to you. Crazy even. But that’s just because you haven’t gotten to really see what all the Rot can show you. It’s told me about those nasty little things we’ve seen skittering around. How they’re trying to interfere with everything.” He ran a finger appreciatively through the slime on a nearby wall before licking it with closed eyes. “With our development.”
My head was still throbbing, but I craned my head up at this last. Maybe I could get him to tell me something I could exploit. Something that would help me escape or convince him to turn me loose. “You mean the rats?”
Oscar chuckled. “Yeah, the rats. They’re annoying little fucks. But that’s okay. Now that we have you back and in this place where the Rot is strong, we can correct the damage they did and get you back on the path.”
“The path to what?”
My old friend looked genuinely surprised. “Why the path to enlightenment, of course.”
Trying to look casual, I braced myself and then shot up. I knew from my struggle down the length of the tunnel that he was somehow too strong for me to fight, but my hope was I might escape if I caught him by surprise. I hadn’t made it to the edge of the room before I felt an iron grip clamping down on my shoulder and spinning me down onto the ground. Oscar towered over me, his eyes dead as he met my gaze.
“Enlightenment, as you might be figuring out, is mandatory.”
“How do I stop it?” I was tensed and ready to go, and while I realized I needed to know what the little creature was telling me, I could feel time ebbing away. And my chance to help, to save Jack and Oscar, might be ebbing right along with it.
The spokesman lowered its head slightly, and when it spoke next, its tone was sad. “You can’t. You can’t kill it and you can’t stop what’s coming. But you can stop its progress here. For it to develop real power in a place, the Rot has to cultivate and enure anchors there. It had attempted to use a mentally ill woman who had taken shelter in one of the houses. It made progress until we found her and stilled her suffering. Unfortunately, your friend Jack walked in on that, be it through coincidence or the Rot’s artifice.”
“For it is a terribly clever thing, and it had already planted the first seeds in the three of you as well. With Jack, he resisted the corruption to the point it made him physically ill for days, thought the Rot would still take him in the end. Oscar succumbed to the enurement very quickly, but hid it very well until recently—when it was too late to stop it.”
I interrupted. “So you can stop it? Stop it from fucking us up, I mean?”
The creature let out a small sigh. “You? Yes. Your exposure has been minimal, all things considered. Jack? It remains to be seen, but we will cure him if he survives and he is not too far gone. As for Oscar…no. He is wholly tainted now, a true anchor of the Rot in this place. It is through him its power is most concentrated here and it is by his destruction its power must be quelled.”
I wanted to argue, but I knew it would only be a waste of time. I didn’t think they were lying or trying to trick me, and I was too ignorant to know even if they were. So I just had to decide if I would blindly trust these things—these creatures that seemed to be offering the only explanation and solution to end this nightmare.
Making a decision, I gave a short nod. “Okay. I’ll trust you, as I don’t have a better idea of what is going on or what to do. But what do I need to do? How do I stop him? Just go in and kill him?”
The spokesman shook its head. “No. You would lose that fight as you are now. Your own body and mind would rebel against you in the Rot’s presence. First you must be cured, and time grows short. Come closer and kneel.”
I felt my mind breaking as Oscar loomed over me. I couldn’t make myself get up again or fight back, and even trying to close my eyes failed. It had control of me now, and it wanted me to see everything.
I stared in horror as Oscar shucked off his clothes to reveal his pale, flabby torso and quivering thighs, all glistening with a thickening translucent liquid that was beginning to look less like sweat and more like whatever ichor was binding together the rotten walls around us. As if in confirmation of this thought, his skin began to blossom in a dozen places with dark sores that quickly puffed up before rupturing and sending black pus oozing down his body, the trails it left sowing new rows of these same sores. I tried to scream as some of the pus fell onto me, burned into me, but I had no voice. Only my eyes and my mind and my ability to feel.
He was a garden of weeping, festering wounds now, but his transformation wasn’t over. As he leaned closer to me, a dark line appeared down the middle of his face, his torso, and traveled on to his groin. Then that line deepened and split as his body spread wide over me like a burst pea pod, revealing not blood and organs, but mounds of turgid grey flesh infested with thousands of green-grey worms. These worms milled and ate and writhed restlessly for a moment before stopping—as though they sensed the new meat below.
That’s when they began to fall on me, first in ones or twos, then in dozens. Hundreds. I couldn’t move, and dear God, I couldn’t stop them.
I couldn’t stop them from burrowing beneath my skin.
The small creatures circled around me, taking off their gloves to reveal tiny pink hands of the same mottled flesh as what I had already seen. The spokesman explained that the way they cured someone of the Rot’s influence was by taking it on themselves. It was dangerous, and some of them always died in the process, but their kind had the ability to resist the Rot until its influence faded away. As I kneeled and placed my hands on the asphalt of the road, they immediately bent forward and put their small, cool hands on mine.
I felt a difference right away. Much of the fear and doubt I was having, while not gone, seemed lighter somehow. More manageable. And I also felt new feelings rising in my chest. Anger at what the Rot had done and hope that it could still be fixed.
The spokesman seemed to sense my feelings and warned me to temper them. To not become reckless or lose sight of what was important. Our goals were to destroy Oscar and save Jack if possible. If not, if the enuring process had gone too far, he would have to be killed as well. I finally asked a question that had been fluttering in the back of my mind like a troubled bird since first hearing of their plan.
Why did they need me? If they had managed to stop the woman in the house, why couldn’t they stop Oscar by themselves?
They explained that the woman, while past saving, was not fully enured, was not yet an anchor for the Rot. Even still, several of their number had died stopping her. But Oscar, hiding in the nest the Rot had built here, would be much more formidable. It had already managed to hide Oscar’s corruption from them for longer than they would have thought possible, and they could not underestimate it again. They had to assume the odds would be against them if they fought Oscar alone in that place, much less if Jack was converted as well. That was why it had to be ended and ended right now. That was also why the time for questions was past.
“Mr. Spires, we took the time to explain because you needed that knowledge. So there is no doubt, no hesitation, when the time comes for you to act. But if you don’t go now, all may be lost. The Rot will know we are coming, and our only advantage is if we can reach those men before it is fully ready.”
I recovered Jack’s discarded handgun from the overgrown grass in front of the Red House, but its weight gave me little comfort or confidence as I walked up the steps and through the front door of the house. I had little doubt that, unbelievable as it all was, the creatures outside were telling me the truth. I even trusted their promise that they would be there to help when the time came, foolish though that might be. What I feared the most was that they were right—that the Rot couldn’t be stopped and that our hope of even slowing it was slim. Because underneath all the other things I heard in their small leader’s voice—the intelligence, the kindness, the determination, the righteous anger—I heard something else.
Desolate fear.
Pushing the thought aside, I made my way carefully across the front hall of the house, following the flickering glow of electric candlelight coming from the kitchen. I could see faint marks on the floor where someone, most likely Jack, had been drug through…
Someone jumped on my back as I crossed the threshold into the kitchen, presumably from some impossible perch near the ceiling. I staggered forward at the new weight as a pale hand shot into my view, swiping the gun in my hand onto the floor. That’s when I heard a woman’s voice hissing in my ear.
“Get him, Tommy! Now! Now!”
Tommy, the same dazed man I had seen a few days before, came charging out of the shadows with a fireaxe. He still looked terrible and his eyes were glazed, but this didn’t slow his movements as he raised his axe to prepare for his blow. I didn’t have time to get the gun, and I didn’t like my odds trying to fight him off with her attacking me from behind. So I did what I had done just a few moments before.
I knelt.
The axe blow shook me even with the cushion of the woman’s body on my back. I screamed in pain as she dug her fingers into my neck before suddenly releasing me. It had been as I’d hoped—whatever Tommy’s status with the Rot, his reaction times and judgment had not recovered yet. I looked around and saw that Tommy was freeing the axe dispassionately from where he had buried it in his girlfriend’s back. Rolling forward, I grabbed the gun and moved into a crouched firing position before putting two rounds into his chest. As the echo of the second gunshot left my ears, he slumped down next to the woman.
I took a moment to check both of them, gun still at ready position. They were both dead, so unless the Rot could resurrect them…which I couldn’t honestly say was impossible given my ignorance…I was clear to move on. After a second of consideration, I grabbed up the axe and took off their heads just to be safe.
Their attack had made me more jumpy, and I struggled to calm my nerves as I went down into the cellar and then the tunnel at its far end. But there were no more ambushes, and while I hated being in the tunnel, I took that space of relative quiet as I moved forward to try and steady myself for what was coming. For what I would have to do. I approached several intersections of tunnels, always wary of some potential horror that might be spawned from their darkness, as they didn’t have a candlelit path the way my tunnel did.
The existence of the path itself troubled me. While the intermittent line of candles matched the drag marks I was seeing, it also made me wonder if I was just wandering into a trap. Still, what alternative did I have? I had a mission, and I had to complete it in the fashion most likely to insure success. So I continued on, hunched and moving at a quick pace, always checking behind me and trying not to gag when the first waves of stench hit my nostrils.
Yeah, I was headed to the right place all right.
It all ended very quickly. One moment Oscar was over me, split open and raining down worms that immediately began tunneling into the meat of me, clouding and twisting my thoughts with every thrusting bite they took. Then there was a loud bang, followed by several more, as the Oscar-thing staggered back and began to let out a terrible squeal of rage. I couldn’t move beyond shifting my head slightly, but it was enough for me to see Jeff Spires come into view, gun held high as he unloaded more rounds into the monster. He was hurting it, but not enough. It was still standing, and as he emptied the clip, it began lurching toward him.
That’s when the ceiling came down above it, a small swarm of brown figures falling with the chunks of earth and rotten flesh and landing on Oscar. They immediately began tearing into him, and this had a more profound effect than any bullets had. His scream became one of fear and pain as he flailed around, clawing and pounding at the creatures as they ripped him apart. One by one, they began to fall, but Oscar fell as well.
That was when Jeff stepped forward again and began striking him with the axe. Two blows, and his head was gone. But he didn’t stop there. He continued to chop at the body even as the three remaining rat-things came over to me, one of them showing a horrific face not hidden by a strange rat mask like the others wore. I was scared of these things too, but less so after all I had seen. And then the unmasked one spoke to me in an almost musical voice.
“Jack, you are at a precipice. We are not going to hurt you. We are going to try to save you, if you can be saved. If not, you’ll have to be destroyed so you don’t become like Oscar. If that happens, it will be done humanely and quickly. Do you understand?”
I was already feeling some control returning to my body, and I weighed the creature’s words carefully. I wanted to do the selfish thing. Refuse. Argue. Try to escape or fight. But I knew it wasn’t the right thing. It was the thing the dark part of myself wanted, encouraged by the wicked things that were eating their way toward my heart. I needed to be fixed or killed before I got worse. Before I became like him.
Oscar had one thing right though. My job wasn’t worth my life. But more than that, my life wasn’t worth my soul.
I nodded and laid my head back on the soggy ground beneath me. A moment later, I felt three sets of small, cold hands on my arm and face. At first I thought it was going to kill me. The worms, halted on their journeys into me, began to thrash and bite, and for the first time I found my voice to scream in pain. I distantly noticed that the sounds of Jeff dismantling Oscar’s body had stopped and I heard him ask if I was going to be okay. There was only silence as a reply.
Slowly, though I couldn’t say how long it really took, I felt the pain subside as the darkness in my mind and heart began to lift. When it was done, I still ached and felt weak, but I was able to sit up. More importantly, I felt normal again. Better in some ways than I had in weeks. Looking first at Jeff, who was watching me quietly as he wiped slime off his arms, I told him thank you before looking down to thank the creatures that had cured me like they promised they would. It was then that I saw that only one, the one without the mask, was left standing.
“Are…Are they dead?”
It nodded. “As you mean it, yes. The corruption in you was great, and curing it takes a great toll. But that is as it must be. Nothing is won without sacrifice, and every time we thwart the Rot, the sacrifice is made worthwhile. Now rest. You still need much healing, and the rest you have to do on your own.”
Despite my alertness just moments ago, I found myself suddenly very drowsy. Sinking back down to the ground, I soon found myself being carried farther and farther from the terrible shores of that place and that night on warm tides of sleep.
When I woke, I was in a hospital. Back in a world that was familiar and safe and sane. In my gratitude, I wept for a little while.
After I pulled Jack from that place, I went back down and coated it all in gasoline and set it ablaze, along with the clothes and shoes I was wearing, as they were ruined and I had a spare set at the clubhouse. The spokesman, the only survivor of their fight with Oscar and the curing of Jack, said that blaze was sufficient, but I went ahead and burned down the Red House too. Fuck that place.
I carried Jack back to the clubhouse, got dressed, and waited outside the car for the police and ambulances I had called to arrive. I felt little surprise when I looked over to see the small creature I called the spokesman standing nearby. Apparently it had found its mask somewhere, for as I watched, it tucked it casually under its tiny arm as it looked up at me.
I asked was it over, and it told me that it is never over. I asked if our part was done, and it said that we had succeeded in thwarting the Rot in this place, in weakening its hold. As for whether my part was done, that would be up to me.
“There is always more work to be done, Mr. Spires. Whether your part is done or not lies within your own heart. If you ever choose to fight against the growing tide of the Rot again, call me and we will come if we are able. Be warned, however—that help, like everything else, is never guaranteed.”
I let out a short laugh. “I…I’m sorry. But I’ve never been this scared my entire life. I’ve been in some shit, but this…no, I doubt I’ll ever be fucking with this kind of stuff ever again.”
It gave a small shrug. “As you will. You did well tonight. Better than many would have in your place. Perhaps that is enough.”
I was surprised to find I felt conflicted. “Well, tell me your name at least. I don’t plan on ever calling for you, but…well, just in case.” I glanced up at the red heartbeat of emergency lights started to appear near the front of the property.
It made a short chortling sound. “You are interesting, Mr. Spires. I like it. As for my name, it is Rilla. If we do not meet again, I wish you well on your path.” I looked away for a moment as the ambulance pulled up, and when I looked back, Rilla was gone.
It’s been three months since that night. Jack was taken to the hospital and treated for his various injuries, including inexplicable trauma to his internal organs. We were both questioned extensively regarding what had happened to lead to us both being injured, a house being burned down, and two people turning up dead. Due to Jack’s condition, I gave my statement first, and I largely told the truth…with some changes to keep myself out of jail.
I said that Oscar, my uncle-in-law, had gone crazy and killed his wife. When I learned about it upon visiting her, I was angry and went to confront him at work. He attacked me and Jack, and he must have killed the young couple, Tommy Peters and Jessica Fortesque, at some point during the night as well. As for what had happened to Oscar, I didn’t know.
That lie was a calculated risk, but a good one. As I had set that underground nest of the Rot to burn, it began to collapse in on itself, and before I was done in the cellar, the tunnel had done the same. The earth was still obviously loose and sunken, but there was little sign that a tunnel had existed there before. If they went digging, I doubted they’d find more than a few cheap LED candles for their efforts.
When Jack was able to talk, he was initially very careful in what he said. His old cop training and reserve kicked in, I guess. But at some point it became too much for him. He talked about Oscar attacking us, but he also talked about magic rats and evil worms and all kinds of stuff that…well, it sounded insane to anyone but me. So he was transferred to a mental health facility for treatment and I was told not to leave town.
I took to visiting Jack every few days, and his parts of this account are taken from the journal entries they had him write as part of his therapy in there. I think he needed to write it down, to get it out, but once he told it, I told him he needed to let it go. Lie to the therapists. Slowly shift to agreeing with them and acknowledging that it was all just a fantasy his mind had made up to deal with the incredible shock and strain of all that had happened that night. Lie convincingly and consistently, but not too quick or they’d suspect something.
And it’s worked. He’s scheduled to be released to an outpatient program next week, and I’m actually going to go pick him up. Strangely enough, we’ve become good friends through all this.
Not everything has been positive, however. My view of the world is so much different now. Darker and filled with terrors I never knew existed before. When I go past an abandoned lot or ride through a dying town, I wonder. When I see someone on the street that looks lost or filled with some uncommon anger, I’m afraid. Because I know what seeds can be planted in such fertile soil.
So I watch for the signs, always asking myself what I’ll actually do if I see a sign of the Rot. Will I run or will I try to stop it? In the first few days, my response might be one or the other depending on when the question was asked. But lately…lately I find myself looking for it more. Taking routes I wouldn’t normally take, driving around late at night. I tell myself it’s just to clear my head, to decompress, but I’m not so sure.
I may never run across the Rot again, but if I do, I think I’ll try to stop it. Or not stop it, I correct myself, but at least thwart it for a time. It feels like a worthy thing to do. The right thing to do. And if I fight the Rot again?
I don’t think I’ll be fighting it alone.
---
Credits
Comments