The Collector Book One: Mana Leak (23 page)

Joe squealed and backed into the corner. It had passed by the exposed flesh of his toes by mere inches. He shuddered. If it was a rat, it looked a big one.

The bedroom door was closed. He had it trapped. He briefly contemplated alerting his grandmother, or at least grabbing a pair of gloves to catch the rat by hand. He decided against it; the rat could dart out as soon as he opened the door. Better to keep it in this enclosed space.

Feeling a little more in control of the situation, Joe headed over to the desk and eased out the chair. On his knees, he peered into the small, dark space to examine the possible damage.

The cable to the television dangled loose, the plug pulled from the socket. The cable itself was cut in two. Not chewed, but actually cut. The severed end looked flat, as if sliced. Joe wondered if a rat could cleave through a wire so cleanly; after all, they gnawed and chewed. The end of the cable should be frayed with fragments of insulation littering the carpet.

Joe glanced over his shoulder at the sound of rustling from under the bed. His night time visitor was moving, probably making itself comfortable and settling in for the night. Keeping on his hands and knees, he crawled to the bed in silence, peering underneath.

The small area contained many boxes and bags; things shoved under to be moved at a later date. Years had passed since then, and Joe didn’t have a clue what they contained. Wiping sweat from his palm on the back of his boxer shorts, he slowly reached underneath into the semi-darkness.

His fingers touched upon a plastic storage box. He grabbed the top edge and pulled it out the way, hoping the rat he heard scratching around was not alerted to his presence.

The box, full of old clothes, emerged from underneath the bed and Joe shoved it to one side.

The music emanating from the Dean’s garage stopped, followed by a large crash.

The absence of the music left a creepy quiet, and Joe listened closer to the strange noises from within the junk under the bed.

The animal chirped, not like a bird, but similar to a cricket or cockroach. There was a definite insectile sound to it, which, along with the scratching and rustling, sent shivers up Joe’s bare back.

He pulled a clear bag full of old Christmas decorations free from the shadow of the bed, wincing at each crackle of the plastic. Joe dumped it beside the box of clothes and gazed under again.

The clearing of the box and bag had revealed a larger area behind. Only the very back, near the wall, remained concealed.

Joe had an idea, remembering an old torch was stashed somewhere. A relic from his childhood, the beacon of light keeping the ghouls and ghosts at bay as he lay awake in bed. He knew better in the adult world, but favouring this idea, he climbed to his feet.

Random items filled the desk drawer: pens, tape, playing cards, keys to locks long forgotten and even a few old toy cars. He rummaged through the contents as quietly as possible, carefully sweeping layers of items aside to search deeper.

His heart skipped with relief on spying the small penlight at the back. He picked it up, hoping the ancient batteries still worked. He twisted the cap and blinked as the torch shone into his eyes.

Yes!

Returning to his hands and knees, he directed the narrow beam under the bed.

More layers of junk hid the rat from view. Joe thought he saw movement, but guessed the torch beam made the shadows dance.

Swallowing, he reached under once more, aiming for a cardboard box blocking his view. Clamping the torch between his teeth, his arm slipped underneath the bed, first up to the elbow, then his shoulder…

His fingertips brushed the side of the box and he repositioned his body for a better view.

A flurry of movement, and Joe yelled, the torch falling from his mouth, plunging the depths of the bed into darkness. He snapped his arm out and rolled backwards, knocking into the desk and toppling the chair.

Watching the thing scuttle out into the light, he pressed his hand over his mouth in a vain attempt to smother his scream.

Legs, long and black, emerged from under the bed. They had the texture of burnt wood, and the tips ended in sharp points that sunk into the carpet. The joints high, the legs formed inverted Vs. Two narrow, viciously hooked claws, similar to a crustacean’s, poked out. The linear appendages opened and slammed shut, snipping through the air like living scissors.

Oh dear God…

Paralysed with terror, Joe’s eyes widened as the creature stepped out.

Its crusty shell contained one huge, bulbous eye the size of a football. It rotated left and right, sliding in its own clear slime. The creature stepped forwards, the eye fixed on Joe.

He sat upright, back pressed into the desk and his legs pulled tight against his chest.

The thing flexed its claws.

Snip-snap-snip!

Joe winced, his body still rigid, terrified any sudden movement might spur this monstrosity to attack, the claws slicing through his face like a butcher’s knife.

The creature paused, its eye scanning the room. Continuing its advance, it drew close to Joe’s naked feet.

Very, very slowly, he slid his hand across the carpet, fingers brushing the back of the overturned chair.

The thing chirped and scuttled further forwards, snapping its claws with menace.

Keeping his gaze locked on the beast, Joe grabbed the chair and pulled it closer. The creature spied the movement, the giant eye revolving to the side with a squelch.

Joe held his breath, but continued tugging the chair.

The arachnid stopped, studying him, as if waiting for him to make his move.

Joe grabbed the chair with both hands, and the creature leapt, black claws heading for Joe’s face.

He’d intended to swing the chair and bring it down on the thing, squashing it flat. Under attack, he held the chair aloft in defence, the wood the only barrier between his body and the snapping shears.

The creature hit the chair, the shell of its body thudding against it.

Prepared for a second assault, Joe clambered to his feet, the chair held over his head. He glanced around the small bedroom for the beast, aware of its incredible speed.

He closed his mouth, forcing his breath to whistle through his nose. He listened for any sign of the creature.

His sweat glands seeped, fed on fear, and greased his hands. He repositioned, finding dry patches of wood to grip.

Something brushed the back of his fingers.

Joe flinched, fighting the urge to throw the chair across the room. He lifted his head.

Silhouetted against the bedroom light, the creature perched atop the chair, its thin limbs suspending the round body between the wooden legs. The throbbing eyeball angled down, looking at Joe. With graceful agility, it scurried down the chair.

He screamed and pitched the chair at the wall.

The creature clung to the chair as it hurtled the short distance. It hit the wall first, taking the full impact before a chair leg struck it. The end of the wood penetrated the pupil of the eyeball, popping it like a water balloon. A thick, black liquid splashed out, forming a tar-like puddle on the carpet. The skeletal legs thrashed in the air as the creature fought against its demise.

Joe panted, watching its legs finally stop their wild twitches and curl up against the body. The eye, now a ragged hole, glistened under the bedroom light, the chair leg still protruding from it. He wanted to run, but his feet disobeyed the panicked pleas from his brain and stayed put. He stared at the remains, afraid that to look away would allow the thing’s revival, the hooked claws in him in seconds.

The scream snapped him out of his trance.

Grandma!

She wailed and shrieked his name over and over.

He ran to the door and pulled it open. Screams echoed down the landing. Without thought, he sprinted down the short corridor to his grandmother’s bedroom, the door already open.

He skidded to a halt at the threshold, gaping at the horrific scene before him.

His grandmother, precariously balanced, stood on her bed as four of the creatures scurried and chirped around on the floor. The sheets hanging over the sides of the bed had been torn to shreds. Even as Joe stood transfixed, one attempted a leap onto the bed, failing by a few inches. Its legs kicked to get over the edge, but gravity claimed it, and the creature slid back down.

“Joseph,” his grandmother shouted, her words muffled by the tears and snot that ran down her face in abundance. “Help me!”

Taking a deep breath, he jumped, hearing the snap of angry claws.

3.

Joe’s feet sank into the soft mattress as he landed. Eleanor clutched his arms to steady him. For one heart stopping instant, his balance carried him backwards before he regained his composure.

The frenzied creatures dashed around the bed; the pattering of their feet and gnashing of claws filled the room.

Joe cradled his grandmother in his arms. She cowered against his chest, closing her eyes.

“Joseph.” Her voice quivered. “What’s happening? What are they?”

“I don’t know.”

He stumbled. Eleanor shrieked and pulled him closer. Peering down, he saw his feet were tangled in the blankets with all the staggering around. He tugged them free.

“Joseph!”

One of the monstrosities heaved itself over the edge of the bed, its many legs furiously thrashing around it.

Arm around his grandmother, Joe kicked out hard, narrowly missing the centre of the eye and connecting instead with the top of the shell. The creature, still struggling over the springy precipice, shot across the room. It landed with a crash on top of the drawers, scattering the contents from the surface.

Joe gritted his teeth as pain roared through his foot; the shell was solid and he’d crunched his toes.

The creature skittered around on the polished wood of the drawers, and its pointed legs finally found purchase. It jumped.

Joe whipped his fist upwards, punching the centre of its eye as it came hurtled through the air towards him. The thin membrane popped, his hand plunging into the warm and viscous depths of the eyeball. The dark liquid gushed out, slopping onto his chest and stomach.

The creature stuck on his hand like a twisted puppet. With a moan of disgust, Joe shrugged it off. It fell to the carpet with a crunch. He shook as much of the thick, black goop from his hand as possible. It flecked the cream bed sheets.

“Oh, Joseph…” groaned Eleanor, collapsing against him.

He placed his clean arm around her back. She felt like a life-sized rag doll, with barely any strength left in her.

Keeping his attention on the two remaining creatures circling the bed, he dragged her limp body backwards, towards the headboard against the wall.

“Grandma, I need you to stand up.”

“Joseph…”

“Grandma, stand up! Now!”

He leaned her against the cold wall, her bare feet on top of the pillows.

“Grandma!”

Her eyes flickered open.

He gradually released her hold, leaving her slumped at the head of the bed. Grateful her legs kept her upright, Joe turned back to the centre of the room.

The two scurrying beasts both roamed the patch of carpet at the end of the bed.

Joe took a deep breath and dropped to a crouch, pulling the bed sheets upwards. Clutching the edge, Joe stood up and stepped to the end of the mattress, like a matador approaching a waiting bull. He peered over the edge at the two monsters below.

Both eyeballs looked him up and down, sizing him up. Claws clicked in anticipation.

He threw the bed sheets over them and leapt down.

He landed, feet together, on top of the closest creature, feeling its shell fracture beneath the blankets. He jumped again, driving his heels into the mound beneath him. A few more solid jumps and its movement ceased.

Satisfied that he’d killed the thing, he moved onto its companion.

Its claws had sliced the bed sheets, and it emerged through the rip, its thin legs pulling the body free of the folds.

With a roar, Joe brought his foot down hard.

The shell caved in two, squashing the soft matter within with a spray of black. Still Joe stomped, over and over until its twitching stopped.

“Joseph, please…”

Panting, he turned his hot, sweaty face.

Eleanor, shaking and sobbing, stood on the carpet next to the bed, her unstable legs struggling to keep her up.

“Are you okay, Grandma? None of these…these things hurt you, did they?”

She shook her head.

“I stayed up on the bed. They couldn’t reach me. I…I…”

Joe rushed over and caught her frail body as she collapsed. He sat on the edge of the bed with her in his arms.

He clutched her small head to his chest, stroking her long, white hair as his tears trickled down his cheeks.

Eleanor sucked in a dry breath.

“I’m fine…Joseph. Just…the shock…”

“It’s over now.” He wept. “They’re dead, they’re all dead.”

His glistening eyes lowered, gaze falling on the exposed carcass. “What…what do you think they are?”

“I don’t know,” Eleanor replied.

“But your books, surely in your books…”

She shook her head.

A crash, like something being overturned, rang out through the house.

“Did you hear that?”

Eleanor nodded, her breathing increasing in quick gasps.

“Sounds like downstairs. Wait here.”

He slowly rose from the bed, checking his grandmother could support herself. She looked badly shaken by the whole ordeal, but alert. The sound of the disturbance downstairs seemed to have brought her back.

Joe stepped over the duvet spread on the floor, two dark stains ruining the fabric. He lingered at the doorway.

“If anything happens—”

“I’ll shout,” said Eleanor. “Joseph?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful down there.”

He managed a nervous smile.

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

4.

Occasionally Joe stopped at shadows on the landing, seeing something creeping towards him across the carpet or scuttling across the ceiling. He pressed on, heart in his throat.