The Scrubs (9 page)

Keeler wondered if these creatures were the real Lefford and Allard or just versions of them conjured up by Jeter.
 
Either way, it didn’t much matter, the stubby machine gun with the banana shaped magazine nestled in the crook of Allard’s arm looked real enough.
 

“Looks like we’ve found each other,” Keeler said.

“I would say we found you.”
 
Allard laughed.
 
He sounded like there was dirt in his throat.
 
His snake eyes glanced over at Lefford.
 
The hog that was Lefford grunted in agreement.

The boy broke into a new wave of sobs that threatened to drown out Allard’s words.

“Can’t you shut that kid up?” Allard barked.

“Davey, you’ve got to be strong now.”
 
Keeler kept his gaze on his fellow inmates.
 
“This isn’t the time for tears.”

Keeler’s plea did nothing to stem the boy’s wailing.

“Shut the fuck up,” Allard barked at the boy with immediate effect.
 
The boy’s sobs withered to an acceptable whimper.
 
“You’re not too good with kids are you, Keeler?” Allard said with a sneer, then laughed.
 
“No, you’re not.
 
I just remembered what they sent you down for.”
 

Keeler swallowed his rage.
 
He wouldn’t be drawn out.
 
Allard wasn’t worth his time.

“I can get you back to the Rift and back home,” Keeler said diverting the discussion away from the boy.
 

Lefford took two quick steps forward and champed his jaws together in irritation, stabbing and re-stabbing his eye sockets.
 
Allard delivered a single kick to Lefford’s haunches to steady him.
 
It did the trick, the kick brought Lefford to heel.

“Come here, find us and take us back,” Allard said.
 
“Is that what they told you?”

“Yes.”

“And you believed them?”

Keeler nodded.

“You fucking idiot, Keeler.”

Keeler wasn’t stupid.
 
He knew the score.
 
He didn’t even believe what he was telling them, but he had a part to play.
 
He would do and say whatever he needed to get the hell out with the boy.

“Don’t you want to leave?” Keeler asked.

Lefford grunted again.
 
This time, Keeler recognized the sound as a laugh.
 
Christ, Lefford’s fucked up
, he thought.

Allard shook his head.
 
The snakes remained in position, never taking their gaze off Keeler.
 

“Why would we want to leave when we have all this?”
 
Allard threw his arms wide, indicating Jeter’s elegant nightmare.
 
“We live like gods here.
 
There are no screws telling us what to do.
 
We have our own rules now and live the way man should have always lived—as hunter-gatherers.
 
For the record, no, we don’t want to leave…”

Allard grinned and Lefford rocked on his toes.
 
Keeler knew what was coming next.

“…and we’re not going to let you leave either.”

Lefford took a precise step forward and Allard readied the machine gun.
 
Keeler took a step back to maintain a healthy distance from them.
 
Lefford and Allard exchanged smug glances.
 
Keeler knew how it looked, but he wasn’t about to run.
 
He had to make a stand, but he needed his shank for that.
 
He cast a look in the direction he’d tossed it and spotted it.

“Can’t we be reasonable about this?”
 
Keeler took another step backwards, edging towards his shank.
 
“You can stay here.
 
It’s no skin off my nose and I doubt if O’Keefe gives two shits.”
 
He backed up another step.
 
“I just want to get out of here and take the kid with me.”

“I don’t think so,” Allard said.
 
“Somehow, it wouldn’t be right.”

Lefford, impatient and exhilarated by the prospect of a kill, charged.
 
His speed was astounding.
 
Keeler didn’t stand a chance.

The boy screamed when the hog-man slammed Keeler with his bulk.
 
Keeler caught the charging monstrosity, but the impact blasted him off his feet and he cut a groove in the soft dirt and leaves when he struck the ground.
 
The harsh landing and Lefford’s bulk broke two of Keeler’s ribs.
 
Keeler bit back the scream clawing its way up his throat.

Keeler had one thing to be thankful for.
 
Lefford had driven him closer to his shank.
 
He was close but it still wasn’t within his reach.

Lefford lunged and snapped his jaws together with a resounding crack.
 
Keeler caught Lefford’s skull and whipped his head out of the way of the lethal tusks.
 
Lefford gnashed his jaws together.
 
Wet sucking noises emanated from his wounded eye sockets, flicking blood on Keeler’s face.
 
Keeler didn’t know how long he could hold out against Lefford’s overwhelming strength.

Allard sauntered over to the melee.
 
He dropped to his haunches and rested the machine gun across his knees.
 
“Keeler, stop fighting.
 
There’s no point.
 
We all know you’re only delaying the inevitable,” he said with smug satisfaction.
 
“Just let death take its natural course.”

“Fuck you and your pig friend.”

Allard sighed.
 
“You can’t say I didn’t try.”

Lefford wrestled to break Keeler’s defenses.
 
Thankfully for Keeler, Lefford’s mutated arms couldn’t pin him down.
 
Lefford’s brute upper body strength and fearsome jaws had come at the expense of his dexterity.
 
Keeler managed to hold off Lefford’s murderous mouth with one hand while delivering blow after blow to the hog-man’s head with the other, but it was like striking rock.
 
Keeler winced as his fingers snapped on Lefford’s skull.

“He’s puts up a fight, don’t he, Leff?” Allard suggested with a chuckle.

Lefford grunted his disapproval.

Allard’s frivolity evaporated and he turned serious when the fight seemed to reach a stalemate.
 
“Okay, Leff, stop the foreplay and just fuck him.”

Keeler may have been a fool for taking O’Keefe’s suicide mission, but he didn’t intend on going down without a fight.
 
He jerked his knee up into Lefford’s gut and planted his heel in the ground to keep the hog man impaled.
 
Lefford curled up in agony, giving Keeler the vital second and the extra inches he needed.
 
He reached out and grabbed his shank.
 
The hog-man squealed as he sensed the balance of power shifting and Allard stiffened.
 
Keeler dealt out a ferocious deluge of rabbit-punch-like stabs.
 
Each thrust found a path between Lefford’s ribs and towards the heart.
 
Occasionally, he struck bone, but each time, the spike glanced off to find flesh and penetration.
 
None of these stabs were lethal individually but the combined onslaught was.
 
Lefford’s strength waned, gushing out of his wounds with his blood.
 
His body sagged, crushing Keeler.
 
Keeler couldn’t afford to be trapped by the overwhelming weight of his fellow inmate.
 
Allard was snapping into action, jumping to his feet.
 
Keeler needed Lefford off of him and quick.
 
He plunged the spike into Lefford’s throat.
 
He ripped it out, tearing chunks of flesh with it.
 
A death rattle leaked out from the new wound.
 
Lefford toppled to one side and Keeler shoved the dead hog-man off him.
 

Allard jammed the machine gun’s butt into his shoulder to fire.
 
Keeler didn’t give him a chance and threw the spike.
 
The shank thudded into Allard’s chest, only a couple of inches to the left of his heart.
 
Only three inches of the wrought iron jutted from the inmate’s ribcage.
 
He staggered back still trying to take aim, but his legs gave out and he crumpled onto his back.
 
Allard’s wound was fatal, but here in Jeter’s world, who knew?
 
Nothing could be taken for granted.
 
Keeler hurled himself at the failing Allard, knocking the machine gun from his grasp and pinning him to the ground.
 
Allard’s snake eyes lunged at Keeler’s face, but he kept a careful distance.

“Keeler, Keeler,” the boy screamed.

“I’m okay, Davey.
 
I’m not hurt.”
 
Keeler turned his attention to Allard.
 
“Who’s going to die now, asshole?”

“You think you’re free now, huh?” Allard croaked.
 
“You’re fucked.
 
You just don’t know it yet.”

“We’ll see.”

Allard stretched for the machine gun and snagged the strap with a couple of fingers.
 
Keeler placed one hand over the other and thrust down on the shank jutting from Allard’s chest until its entire length disappeared inside him.
 
Allard groaned and curled into a ball.
 
Keeler lost his balance and pitched forward.
 
He ended up lying cheek to cheek with Allard.
 
The snake-eyed man edged closer to him.
 
Keeler noticed death lurking in his golden eyes.
 
He expected Allard to speak in the moments before death claimed him, but instead, Allard pursed his lips as if to kiss Keeler.
 
Keeler didn’t shy away from the man who’d tried to kill him.
 
It was the least he could do after what had happened to him here in the Rift.
 
Allard leaned in close and, with his dying breath, he spat.
 
His spittle struck Keeler in the eyes.
 
Fire ignited across his face and he recoiled from Allard’s corpse.
 
At the sound of the Keeler’s screams, the boy joined in.
 

Keeler raked at his face to wipe the venom out of his eyes, but the spittle’s corrosive power seemed to have no end.
 
Tears poured down his face, but did little to dilute the effects of Allard’s spittle.
 
Keeler’s vision dissolved into hazy blobs.
 
He closed his eyes to shut out the pain, but within seconds he could see again.
 
His eyelids had melted away.
 
He touched his face for confirmation and found nothing to touch, but the mutilation didn’t end at his eyelids.
 
His fingertips fell upon dissolving eyebrow ridges and cheekbones.
 

The boy repeatedly called out Keeler’s name, but the blinding pain stopped Keeler from answering him.
 
Mercifully, after what seemed like hours, but could have only been minutes, the spittle lost its corrosive strength.
 
He stopped trying to wipe the pain away from his face.
 
The pain still threatened to slice his brain in two, but Allard’s parting gift had done all the damage it was going to do.
 
He feared the obvious but he had to check it.
 
Slowly, he removed his trembling hands from his face.
 
Instantly, he knew and screamed.
 
He was blind.
 

Chapter Seven

Failure
 

“My God,” O’Keefe murmured.

The same words carried through Cady’s head, but his awe was totally different than his boss’.
 
The salacious look smeared across O’Keefe’s face and sparkle in his eyes showed overwhelming amazement at what had transpired.
 
Cady was sickened.
 
He’d witnessed Keeler kill two inmates—if they could be called that anymore.
 
Their transformations defied belief.

“Was that really Lefford and Allard?” Cady asked.

“I would say so.”

“Did you expect this?”

O’Keefe wrenched his gaze away from the Rift.
 
“My God, no.”

“What happened to them?”

O’Keefe jerked a thumb at Jeter.
 
“You should ask him.
 
It’s his creation.”

Oblivious to his environment, Jeter inhaled the green fluid as quickly as the pumping machine could provide it.
 
Cady couldn’t shake the feeling Jeter was playing O’Keefe.
 
The North Wing was his spider web and all of them were the flies tickling the web filaments.
 
It was only a matter of time before Jeter devoured his prey.

Time
is running out
, Cady thought.