Urban Gothic by Brian Keene Page B

and jagged bone showed clearly past the remaining shreds of flesh. The remaining digits were already bruised and swollen. His nose had stopped bleeding and didn’t appear broken. Kerri doubted that would comfort him, though.
    Brett coughed and then moaned. Frothy spittle dripped from the corner of his mouth. He tried to speak again, but she put a finger to his lips. Then she handed him his cell phone, hoping that the light might give him some comfort.
    “Stay here. I’ll be right back. You need to stay awake, okay? Can you do that? You need to holler if you hear any more of them coming.”
    Brett whimpered, but nodded in understanding. He clutched the open cell phone to his chest with his good hand. Kerri felt like crying as she left him lying there.
    She made her way to the end of the hall and peered into the darkened room. Heather was kneeling on the floor, sobbing. Dark streaks of mascara ran down her cheeks. Kerri moved up beside her, and Heather jerked in surprise.
    “It’s okay,” Kerri said. “It’s just me.”
    They were at the edge of a deep pit. From somewhere far below, they heard Javier groan. He sounded weak and afraid.
    Kerri leaned forward and examined the floorboards. They’d been sawed off about five feet into the room. The trap ran the entire length, from wall to wall. Heather held her cell phone over the pit, and Kerri peered down into the hole, but all she could see was more darkness.
    “Is he alright?” Kerri asked. “Has he said anything?”
    Heather shook her head. “Not yet. I think he might have passed out or something. All he does is groan.”
    Kerri leaned farther over the pit and called out for Javier. She kept her voice low—if there were any more creatures in here with them, she didn’t want to give their location away. When Javier didn’t answer, she glanced up at the ceiling, wondering if it concealed a trapdoor as well, like the one in the hallway. If so, she didn’t see it. The plaster was water stained and cracked, but there were no seams indicating a hidden door or compartment.
    “Javier,” she tried again, “are you okay?”
    He groaned louder, and then coughed. He stirred in the darkness, and once again, Kerri heard the distinct sound of clinking glass.
    “If you can’t talk, just cough again. Okay? Let us know you can hear us, at least. Can you do that?”
    “I can hear you.” His voice was stronger now, but tinged with pain. “Shit …”
    “Are you hurt?”
    “Yeah.” He paused. More glass tinkled. “But I’ll live. I think. Nothing’s broken, at least.”
    “How far down are you?”
    “I don’t know. It all happened so fast. Fuck me running. I can just barely see you guys. I dropped your lighter and my cell phone. Lost my knife, too. They’re down here somewhere, but I can’t find them.”
    “Can’t you feel around?” Heather asked.
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “There’s broken glass all over the floor. I’m sitting in it right now. The less I move around, the better.”
    “Jesus …” Heather gasped.
    Kerri frowned, trying to figure out how to free him.
    “Everyone else okay?” Javier asked.
    “Brett’s hurt really bad,” Kerri said.
    “What happened?” Heather glanced over her shoulder and out into the hallway.
    “Another of those dwarf things popped out of the ceiling and attacked him. He’s been bit. He lost three fingers.”
    “Oh shit!”
    “Yeah. I stopped the bleeding, temporarily at least, but it doesn’t look good.”
    Javier let out a choked, muffled yell.
    “Babe?” Heather leaned out over the edge of the hole.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “I think a fucking rat just crawled over my leg. Get me the hell out of here, okay?”
    “Okay,” Kerri promised. “Just hang on.”
    “We don’t have any rope,” Heather said. “What are we going to do?”
    Kerri stood up. “Take your clothes off.”
    “Wh-what?”
    “You heard me. Take your clothes off. You said it yourself, Heather. We don’t have any rope. We need to