It was just an ordinary rat, he told himself, but the pounding of his heart and the shortness of his breath proved he didn't believe his own arguments. The Terrible People, he recalled the boy's words, and gritted his teeth. There's no such thing as the Terrible People, is there? His question was answered by the memory of a dark silhouette moving underground on a mountain made of human shit. A silhouette darker than darkness and making stork-like sounds. Łukasz tried to think rationally, but his mind had clearly given up on such attempts long ago and given in to madness.
"It was there, you know it," the voice in his head repeated stubbornly. "It was as real as the clay surrounding you, you better believe it, get up and run as far away from here as you can. And you know what else? It saw you, saw you, saw you so clearly."
"The Terrible People," he said quietly under his breath, then bit his tongue.
He finally regained control of his body. He stood up and began backing toward the white wall of the house under construction. He never took his eyes off the wooden outhouse. When he finally felt the pleasant coolness of the cinder blocks behind him, he heard the scratching sound again. This time he knew its source. It came from the wooden latrine opposite. "
The Terrible People. They were fighting for their lives. If anyone had heard, there might still be a chance. Bye, man!" Memories flooded his mind in waves, both long-faded and completely fresh. "There would still be a Terrible, Terrible People chance," the policeman's voice told him, and then somewhere inside his head, the sleek Janek muttered, "Terrible Chance, Terrible People. The People were fighting."
Łukasz's world spun before his eyes. All images blurred into a grayish blur. Time and again, he became a little boy, then a grown man again, everything happening to the endless accompaniment of the scratching. That's how his father's shoes scratch across the carpet, how they shuffle as his old man hangs himself. Or maybe it was the creature hidden in that small outhouse that decided to dance across the wooden floorboards.
"Łukasz," he heard his father's voice, interrupted by moans and gasps for breath. "Łukasz! Łukasz!"
Suddenly, his father's screams were replaced by a powerful rattling sound. The sound filled Łukasz and penetrated him.
Fear. The fear was the same, wasn't it? Then and now. All-encompassing, all-powerful, yet so tangible. So real, almost physical. "
Łukasz, chance, fight, rattling. I don't love you anymore!" A mad carousel of memories. Different voices shouted different words at him, and then they were lost in the powerful rattling of the creature from the latrine.
Fear, the same as then, wasn't it? It was fear. It was just fear.
Łukasz felt the voices around him fade, and his vision refocused. He was surprised to find himself standing directly in front of the outhouse door, his hand dangling motionless inches above the doorknob. Something was still rustling within the room. The sound was so eerily similar to what he had heard years ago. The toes of his boots scraping the rough carpet, while his father's neck was being tightened by the rope in that final, loving embrace. He felt the memories begin to crash down on him again with tremendous force, but this time he refused to let them carry him away. He faced a great wave of memory and managed to persevere, standing against the current for now. He realized that, like an acrobat, he was walking on a thin rope suspended above madness. He knew that if he allowed himself to be swept away by the crushing river of memory once more, he would next awaken in a psychiatric hospital dressed in a white caftan. And even that, he could only hope for if he was lucky.
The door. It was behind it that his father hung. It was the door that had slammed shut behind his girlfriend, and he hadn't opened it, letting her go. It had always been about the door, and the doorknob that Łukasz had never been able to turn. Now he stood facing his nightmares. Facing all his fears. Redemption awaited him on the other side. One move separated him from ridding himself of his own demons. It was time to face them.
His hand stopped shaking. He knew he had to do this. Once and for all. The time had come, the time to reach for his personal salvation.
"Now or never," he whispered to himself and turned the doorknob.
Have you ever ridden a roller coaster? Not the kind you see at those small town fairs, but the massive colossus so often shown in American movies. Imagine yourself riding one. First, the incline. A terribly long, steep, and slow one. You can then watch the clouds and the sun peeking through them. The braver ones might look down, straight at the crowds of people, which are constantly shrinking. The coaster slows steadily, and the top of the incline is almost here. For a moment, you feel your car level out. A cliff looms ahead. The track drops at an incredible angle. The cars begin to plummet at terrifying speed, straight towards the ground. The rushing air fills your cheeks. A stray fly slams against your forehead. Adrenaline surges through you. Suddenly, you feel your bladder tighten as you see a section of track missing, just below the ground. You see your car about to crash with tremendous force, directly into the concrete scaffolding. Your entire life doesn't flash before your eyes. Maybe when you're exceptionally composed, you'll only think about why your boss had to give you your paycheck too soon today, or why you had to skip school today. Your last thought will be that you're already dead. This realization will fill your mind. The moment will stretch on like an eternity. A second will become infinity, accompanied only by the thought that you're already dead. That's how Łukasz felt when he saw what awaited him on the other side.
Łukasz jumped away from the door. He was as white as a sheet. His lips twitched irregularly, like two pale earthworms seeking shelter from the rain pouring down on their burrows. He took another step back. He slipped and landed in the mud. He heard something ahead of him. He tried to recall what he'd just seen, but no image appeared before his eyes. Or maybe he hadn't seen anything? Where had the sound come from? He was certain he was already dead, and all he could do was prolong his agony.
That was certain. Something was coming for him.
He flinched as he felt something hard tighten around his ankle. The grip was incredibly strong. He immediately remembered who, or rather what, had crawled out of the outhouse. His pupils dilated to unnatural sizes, and a powerful scream rose in his throat. His father, or rather the being wearing his face, froze, clenching his black hand even tighter. Luke saw with disgust the bones protruding from the rotten black hand, reflecting the pale moonlight.
The monster lay before him. From the waist down, it seemed paralyzed, moving only with its hands. Its head moved in jerky movements, like some kind of interrupted animation, right and left. The creature stared at him with dead eyes, Justyna's eyes. Suddenly, it opened its mouth, and a loud rattling sound emanated from somewhere in its black throat. A dark green tongue slid out of the monster's mouth like a living animal.
Łukasz kicked his legs violently and wrenched himself free from the creature's grip. He began to retreat quickly. He moved like some exceptionally retarded crab. He pushed against the wet clay with his heels and dug into puddles with his hands. He somehow didn't think to get up. He didn't have time. He was now face-to-face with his worst nightmare. And you know what? He wanted to forfeit the match as quickly as possible.
The monster stared at him with Justyna's dull gaze; he wasn't in any hurry. Finally, he moved, awkwardly pulling himself up on his hands. Fragments of skull protruding from the black, rotted bone of his head gleamed deceptively with his every movement. The creature moved slowly but relentlessly. Precisely, like the hand of a clock meant to measure the time allotted for pleasure. We almost don't notice its slow movement, but we can't escape it. Whether we run, drive, or fly, the hand will catch up with us.
Łukasz seemed oblivious to this simple truth. He moved faster and faster through the clay, until finally his head struck the wall of the house under construction. He felt no pain from the impact. He didn't have time. He jumped to his feet in a flash and looked at the creature crawling toward him. It stopped moving and returned his gaze. This time, the creature no longer had his father's face; in its place was pale skin stretched to the breaking point over a skull, over which slicked-back black hair had sprouted. The monster stared at Łukasz, this time with empty eye sockets, then whirred loudly and moved towards him. The man broke into a chaotic retreat along the wall of the building. Unfortunately, a moment later, when he landed hard on his stomach, he remembered his friend's warning. "When it attacks, watch out for the clay. It gets terribly slippery." "Never mind," he said aloud and scrambled to his feet.
He still believed he had a chance. He didn't look back. He was certain the monster was far away. How fast could it move by crawling?
Very fast.
Łukasz fell again. This time, he didn't slip on the mud, but something grabbed his leg and yanked him back hard. He hit the ground so hard that for a moment he couldn't catch his breath. He rolled onto his back, only then managing to fill his lungs. Suddenly, he felt the creature grip his torso and slowly pull itself up his body. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the blanket. The same one he'd once hid under to escape the nightmare that had been chasing him. But this time, his worst nightmare had become reality. Łukasz felt a cold, heavy sensation at chest level. It was lying on top of him. He held his breath, the only thing he could do. When he inhaled again, he smelled rot. Finally, he couldn't bear it any longer and opened his eyes. Before him, he saw only the blackness of empty eye sockets, through which worms repeatedly rolled. Absolute silence reigned all around, broken first by the clatter of the monster leaning over Łukasz as if to kiss him, and then by some alien, terrifying scream. The last glimmer of hope faded when Łukasz realized it was he himself who was screaming.
He felt himself drowning in memories. His father hanging in the room like some doll at a fair. Justyna emerging from the apartment with a sleek Janek stabbing him in the back. A dark abyss where the monster's eyes should have been. The stench of an outhouse built on a small hill. The end. Madness gripped his brain. He tried to draw air into his lungs, but repeatedly swallowed only liquid. Somewhere above him, a small red light loomed above the water's surface. But he was already too deep. Now he would never rise again. He was helpless, and could only wait for death. Yet the red glow still shone somewhere above him. Łukasz decided to swim out, but his legs were gripped by the demons of his past. They were pulling him to the bottom, wanting to see him dead.
"No!" he discovered with surprise. He could scream, and his pursuers could hear him. "Leave me alone!" They
let go. His legs were free. Łukasz moved quickly toward the light, toward the surface. Toward consciousness. He no longer wanted death. He only wanted...
Brak komentarzy:
Prześlij komentarz