Fan Fiction ❯ Frailty ❯ Suracing ( Chapter 18 )

 

Frailty

 

 

Chapter eighteen- “Surfacing”

 

 

Raven sparingly looked toward the ground as she took her first few steps into the tunnel.

The smell was unbearable, and she could feel the source of it rushing against her; a thick stream of human waste that prevailed nearly to the mid-calve.

That alone was almost more than her stomach could stand.

 

 

The sewage network, in contrast to the rest of Abbot, was granted dim amounts of light by an occasional overhead fixture. Because of that, Raven was able to see sloppy arrangements of cords pinned to the schemes where the walls met the ceiling. In her scarce observation, she noted that they seemed to sustain through the entire duration, probably providing the entire area with power.

 

 

Likely to prevent escapes in the manner of which Clam had done, two steel gate doors, set an even ten feet apart from each other, divided the tunnel into thirds. Both were yawning open, and appeared to have been undisturbed for some time.

So it came as an unpleasant surprise to the mystic, when she ventured between them, and was stopped short by an unbearable groan that tore out from the hinges.

She quickly cued into what was happening, but was not able to get into the clear before both doors slammed shut in unison, trapping her between them.

 

 

In bitter, jaded response, she let the map fall into the river of sludge below, and swung her shotgun into both hands.

There was hardly any time to muse over a possible way out, before the supernatural intervened.

 

 

Raven looked up after hearing a familiar buzz/crackling noise to see two large gouts of electricity traveling down the cords. Just short of the first door, they stopped short and each produced a lightning bolt, which struck a space of floor less than five feet from her on the other side.

From this spectacle, Horace materialized, groaning under the volts of electricity that assailed him.

 

 

“This place wants you, Raven.” His voice prevailed amongst the noise.

“It needs people like you. Once it gets a hold of you, it won't let you go, just like it hasn't let me go…” He staggered forward, and grabbed onto the door for support.

“I been down here for so damn long, it's sucked me dry…I can only pray that it's almost done with me…It let you out for a lil' bit, but now it wants you back, deep inside…” The apparition's tone seemed to gain strength as it continued.

“Deep inside, where I've been all these fucking years…don't say…” and he pushed himself onto his feet, to stretch both arms out. Somehow, the voltage amplified at this, and redirected to the door, causing it to swing outward.

“I NEVER DID NOTHIN' FOR YOU!”

Raven stood, silently watching, till he vanished from sight. His closing statement echoed in her head,

“COME, JOIN ME…IN THE DANCE HALL!”

 

 

She gazed over her shoulder once everything had gone dormant. The rear gate had not opened; no turning back, now, even if she wanted to.

 

 

The mystic sparred one more moment to reach down and pluck the map from the putrid waste.

It had been pretty well soaked through, but was still legible, thankfully enough.

From the light blue ink drawn upon the crumpled surface, the corridor she was in presently ended in a T-junction.

A ten-foot journey forward confirmed this.

The left break was sealed off by another gate, leaving only one option.

Pushing the thought of discarding the soiled map down, Raven folded it in half, and pushed it behind her charm, then proceeded into the right turn.

She was led further into the system of drainage tunnels, by another T-junction, similar to the last.

This process repeated itself several times over, till she came to an abrupt dead end.

 

 

On the ceiling, she saw a rounded hatch with a valve serving as the handle. It appeared to be closed and secure, but could not have sprung outward any faster when Raven approached.

Taken slightly off-guard, she stepped back as a steel service ladder proceeded to slide out the new opening, and hit the ground, allowing access to the next floor.

 

 

“It let you out for a little bit, but now it wants you back…” Raven recollected Horace's dire statement as she blankly stared.

The realization hit her, as she begun to climb the ladder, that he could not have been any more correct.

 

 

There was a certain, silent relief that hit her as she passed through the hatch, finalizing her journey through those abysmal drainage tunnels.

The map identified the room she had entered as a pumping station.

Much of the flooring was that of a narrow bridge-like architecture, meant to accommodate the cesspools, which accounted for much of the square footage.

To one wall, columns of large, reflective cylindrical structures pierced the soiled water, and rose nearly to the ceiling. Plastic, rectangular panels planted on the front exhibited a show of dull green and red lights that blinked in random intervals.

To the right end of this particular wall, there was a recession. A small expansion of the room, which held a receptionist desk, and, from Raven's standpoint, what looked like a slightly ajar door.

 

 

She concluded while approaching, that whatever lay beyond it was well lit.

A narrow beam of light that filtered through the open space shone across an otherwise dark pump room.

Her hand grazed the knob, but did not immediately grasp.

Something struck her, as she prepared to enter, and while railing back, Raven recognized it as the very headache that had afflicted her in the cottage.

Her eyes shut as tight as they could go before the world begun to slow. Whatever this terrible flashback had come to show her, she was sure she didn't need to see.

…And while she was sparred the visible detail, words could still be heard, with a deafening clarity.

“Sir, you can't do this! You can't just condemn your own men!”

This voice of a youthful, outraged texture argued, and was replied to by a deeper, stern protest.

“They're spies for the Nazis! A threat to our security! Do you want me to just ignore that?!?

As long as you're in this base, you'll do exactly as I command, I'm GOD here!”

 

 

And just as quickly as it had come, the ache lifted.

Raven's eyes opened slowly, to see that the door had swung fully out. Behind it, a staircase led upward, past the barrier of the doorframe, and into the unknown.

As she brought her foot to the first step, the mystic tried her best to figure the meaning of this particular visit.

She wouldn't have much luck, till she reached the top.

 

 

The last step melted into a stretch of floorboards that ran forward a moderate distance, then let up at the foot of a heavy iron door.

The walls of this narrow corridor were mostly of a featureless, ugly brick that looked old. Remarkably old.

There was only one thing there to grab Raven's attention as she padded silently forward.

A yellowed poster had been sloppily taped to the wall at a locale that could've been assumed as the middle.

Dominating the center was a Swatstika, and underneath large red lettering assembled the line, “THIS IS THE ENEMY”.

Raven recalled this, as she observed, being some sort of advertisement widely used during World War two that prompted a boycott on German imports.

 

 

The clear, inhumane disaster that was Carnate island's past remained a mystery to her, but as she silently observed this poster, a near sixty year old relic of the second great war, things slowly begun to add up.

The pieces surfaced one by one, and told her the story of an island that was more than just an island, and a prison that, at one misbegotten time, was more than just a prison.

 

 

The following event that snapped Raven's train of thought came so quick and so abruptly that she was barely given time to register.

The heavy door that she later intended to warily pass through burst outward, causing it to smash into the corner of the hallway with an alarming crash.

The mystic spun on her heel just as an invading gun beast hit the floor in preparation to open fire.

Its assault was heard long before it could become visible, allowing Raven a small window of time to blanket herself in a dome of black magic.

The bullets simply bounced off.

 

 

Almost as if to react, the creature lifted its head and let out an irate bellow, then rushed forward.

Upon arriving a foot shy from Raven, it greeted by doubling up a fist and violently lashing out.

A well-thought but none too fluid crouch put her out of harm's way, and as the beast stumbled forward in the wake of it's miss, presented a golden opportunity.

It took an extra few seconds for her assailant to regain its footing, and once it did, the barrel of Raven's shotgun wound up getting pressed into its abdomen.

Without a second thought, she pulled back on the trigger.

A muffled blast ensued, relocating most if not all of its midsection out across the floor.

 

 

The collection of bodily fluid, intestines and bright yellow fat that splayed across the hardwood would not be visible for long, before that which once held them followed suit.

The beast lost its balance anew, and tumbled over onto its back, causing the many guns it harbored to go off at once.

With a dead intensity, it used its last few seconds of life to miraculously lift its torso and reach out. The strain that this move exerted forced a cascade of blood from its mouth and, as if operating as some sort of signal, helped it retreat to the floor.

 

 

The arsenal on its back fired off once more, causing Raven to start slightly. Something about the creature caught her in the instance that it attempted to recover; a detail she had failed to notice before.

Cautious step by step, she advanced upon its corpse, till she found herself standing directly over it. From that standpoint, she was given an eye full of a mange white scarf that wrapped about its head, veiling the eyes.

“…A blind-fold.”

The mystic whispered under her breath with a shudder. The fabric blended in with the tone of its flesh exceptionally well with its flesh, but in this light she could clearly see.

And this very simple little facet of a large, bizarre beast suggested that it was different from the rest of Carnate.

Unlike the decapitated Machete, unlike those chimp-like, mainlining freaks, this creature held a true, concrete link to the island's history.

There wasn't enough evidence or experience to adopt this as fact, but Raven assured herself as she proceeded down the corridor, that when the time was right, she would learn.

 

 

The room that the beast had come from was different, to say in the least. Raven was surprised to learn, after taking a look at the map, that it, nor the corridor linking it to the pumping station were present.

She averted her gaze from the map to fix a quizzical look into the musty, brick comprised chamber.

To her immediate right, a doorframe led further into the prison's alleged basement, and a series of holding cells occupied the wall directly across from her, their steel gate doors intended to hopelessly detain left hanging open.

Venturing further toward one of these cells allowed her to see a passage that the aforementioned doorframe granted access to. Short-lived as it was, the room it gave way into was blanked out by thick darkness.

 

 

Raven paid this little mind at first; something in the middle of her present room's three detainment cells caught her eye. A carton lay on its side in the center of the tiny space, leaving shells strewn across the floor.

The mystic knelt down to observe further, but cut herself short when her eyes met with the corner of the cell, and was greeted by a pile of human feces, petrified by advanced age.

Her clear disgust exhibited on her face as she recovered to her feet and backed away, although it wasn't entirely surprising.

She noticed at that moment that these particular cells held no furnishings whatsoever; barely even enough space for a full grown adult to lay down.

 

 

Raven knew little to nothing of the prison systems, but surely, there would have been legal repercussions for an environment like this.

“Unless…”

Only a word of contemplation emerged before the symptoms of a third flashback assailed her.

The mystic's hands grabbed harshly to her scalp as the less than pleasantly familiar jackhammer sensation begun to pound away at her skull, and invited the world to slow to a dead halt.

She managed a strained groan before backing up into the cell's rear wall. The impact caused her head to jolt up, and her eyes snapped open.

Blue irises met with the dark gray blod of a shut gate door, beyond which the blurry forms of two men were visible.

The visit seemed quite unclear, unlike the first occasion in the cottage, and almost boded a potential to depart at any given second.

But, it remained, and despite the pain she endured, Raven did everything she could to compose herself, and focus upon the still frame outside the cell.

One man sat on the edge of a chair, his arms flung out in evident frustration. The other stood only a few feet away with a clenched fist raised, as though ready to smash something.

Ironically, as the details became cleaner, dialogue arose.

“You have NO proof of this accusation! The men you locked in those cells are every bit as American as you and me!”

 

 

Those cells

 

 

The two words struck her with the most significance, and as she strained to drop her gaze, a sharp retort ensued.

“Like Hell they are! If internment camps are a good idea for those shit-pokes out west, then unloading a few spare shells into some worthless spies'll do fine on this coast!”

 

 

Raven spent the flashback's final instances staring blankly at her feet. Or at least, where they should have been. A crouched, humanoid figure rested in the precise area that she stood, and like a ghost, her legs simply phased right through him. With his head ducked between his knees, none of the mystery captive's features could be distinguished, or set apart from a heavy green jacket that presented the words “U.S Army” on the back.

 

There were several things Carnate Island hosted that were capable of unraveling Raven's collected frame of mind. She felt just that, as she slid down the cell wall, and came to rest on her butt.

By the time her eyelids hefted up once more, the world was blurring, as if to set the stage for relative normalcy. The colors of the arguing militants, the crouched man, even the closed gate door bled into one, and like a heavily breathed sigh, lifted.

 

 

Raven watched all the while, as the stone chamber reoriented itself; each individual detail falling into place with relative speed. Groggily, she climbed to her feet. The monstrous headache had vanished almost as quickly as the flashback itself, but even so the simple memory of how it felt momentarily crippled her.

A hand shot to the wall for support when her balance abruptly failed her, and after a vain attempt to regain her composure, the empath pushed herself back onto her feet, and staggered away.

The shells she sought were left strewn across the ground, completely undisturbed.

 

 

*****************************************

 

 

Over her venture through the basement of Abbot, the physical ache that Raven gained had not dampened, or amplified, but remained at a constant, right where it was. Either because of that, or a lack of observation, or simply an overzealous desire to forget everything the night had forced her to endure, the rooms and corridors she had navigated no less than three hours prior failed to register any memories.

The only thing that appeared familiar, after close to fifteen minutes of aimlessly wandering, was a heavy bolted door with the words “ABBOT CORRECTIONAL FACILITY” stenciled across the middle. This, amongst other things, implied an exit, back into the cellblocks and administrative offices of the prison.

Sure enough, as Raven swung the door outward and stepped across the threshold, she found herself in a wide, dimly lit hallway that ran some distance to both the left and right.

 

 

A column of payphones occupied the space of wall that neighbored her entrance point.

She noted whilst advancing into the middle of the hallway that many of the phones themselves had been plucked from the base, and left dangling at the end of the cord.

 

 

The left break ended far sooner than the right, which spanned out several yards, and concluded in a T-junction.

This dead end, as it were essentially, was home to a lone frame, the door of which gaped open. A sign planted to the side identified it as, “ELECTROCUTION CHAMBER (WITNESS ROOM)”

The well-lit room that lay beyond failed to boast much for free space, nor furnishing.

Plain, white tile spanned across the floor, and the center inclined into a rectangular stand that harbored several chairs.

At the corner, just as it were with the lethal injection chamber, two security monitors displayed the room on the other side.

Separated by a thick sheet of glass, the slightly larger space was featureless, save for a control panel on each of the three available walls, and the hellish machine that procured its name.

 

 

Established in the center of the chamber, the electric chair did indeed look as though something more than a mere mortal had forged it into existence.

A thick cord trailed from each control panel, and hooked up to the rear of the chair, granting its lethal potential. Straps on the armrests and back intended to prevent any violent movement hung loosely, rendered useless for many years.

 

 

Raven was only a step into her silent approach before a sharp disruption killed her movement.

She gazed over her shoulder, towards the wall of payphones. One of the few that were still intact abruptly begun to ring, braying its call for attention out across the corridor.

The noisy appliance's threat of calling unwanted attention to the mystic promptly redirected her toward it.

Her hand snapped forward and seized the phone by its neck, then jerked it from the receiver.

Holding it to her ear, she asked in a hushed tone, “Who is this?”

Her reply came from none other than Horace, but was hardly gratifying.

Excitedly, he beamed, “Yeah baby, I got it! They agreed to the conjugal visit! I called some markers with the C.O's, and they put in a good word. Yeah, they ain't all bad. Oh baby, it drives me nuts thinkin' of you out there in the world, without me to keep ya' safe…I love you so fuckin' much, I'll show you when ya' come…I can't fuckin' wait!”

And with that, he hung up. Raven puzzled, but as soon as she placed the phone back on the receiver, Horace's voice interjected once more.

“Jesus, I made that call to her so long ago…Wish I could forget, but this place won't let it happen.”

 

 

The mystic spun on her heel to face the electrocution chamber. Sure enough, Horace stood in the open doorway, a hand clutching his head.

“I been waitin' so long just to fuckin' sleep…”

His head lifted, allowing him to fix a dead stare onto her.

“Don't let me down, Raven. I think you're my last cha…”

The electricity that normally shrouded him made a late appearance, bursting out as he spoke.

The apparition let out a tormented groan before doubling over, and simply vanishing, leaving the large gout of electricity behind.

Rather than grow, or follow suit and disappear, it shot into the chamber.

Raven attempted only briefly to digest what she saw before biting her lower lip and pursuing.

 

 

She held no prediction or expectation for what would greet her when she entered, but even so, was shocked at the sight that she beheld.

Beyond the witness room, Horace was strapped tight into the electric chair. The bracer on the back held his head up, forcing him to look directly at Raven.

The expression he carried made her wish she could die, as well.

 

 

“Oh no.” He murmured as several lights on the control panels begun to flicker.

“It's back… it's starting again. It never stops, it just keeps burning! It won't let me go!”

The switch that begun the deadly process was positioned directly behind the chair, at the foot of its base. That accounted, she didn't see when it simply flipped to the side, inviting lethal volts of electricity to once more begin assailing Horace.

“AAAAAHHHHRRG!” His scream made her start in surprise.

Terrified, she backed away and watched as the apparition jolted violently around in the chair.

“SCALDING! I CAN'T FUCKING TAKE IT ANYMORE, I JUST WANNA' DIE!”

 

 

Horace's evident pain distracted Raven greatly. So much so, that she failed to notice the large sphere of electricity that accumulated above him, towards the ceiling.

This genuine negligence did not endure, however, when the electrocution abruptly stopped.

Horace went limp and sunk between the armrests as far as he was permitted to go.

Possibly because of that which he endured, he offered no word of warning for the colossal ball of voltage that was released.

It smashed into the dividing glass with such force that, there was little to no remnants, and as Raven stumbled back, Horace spoke once more, “This ain't just about helping me kid. This place wants you dead. It wants you here, with me.”

And the electrocution begun anew, forcing out another scream.

“UAAAAHHG! It burns! IT BURNS! STOP IT, RAVEN! STOP `ME'!”

 

 

-End chapter 18-

 

 

Shameless plugs from the author (hey, at least it breaks the mold from the rambling…right?)

 

 

Well, it's been almost two weeks since I released my other TT story, “Rose, tint my world” on this site, and…wow…it hasn't gotten anything at all…Only eight hits, for that matter.

Alright, alright, I know I shouldn't be bitching, being as I've gotten all this feedback for Frailty, and have barely returned the favor, but I've recently tuned into my wanton negligence, and am doing what I can to make up for that.

Anywho, if you've been reading this fanfiction and have actually enjoyed it, you might wanna give “Rose, tint my world” a once over.

Despite the implications of the name, it's actually a survival horror fic, and my attempt to cross TT with an old Genesis game called Splatter House.

 

 

That being said, peace out, I'll do what I can to make up for my ignorance, and I hope you'll read this fic, being as it was one of the few enterprises I've ever thought up that my sister actually supported.

 

 

Enjoi,

JackoMegane