Creeeeaaaaaakkkk......
"Hello?" I cried out frantically into the darkness, "Is someone there?"
I didn't know where I was, or how I had gotten there. The only things I knew for certain, was that it was extremely dark, there was a horrid smell emanating from somewhere in the room and that I was no longer alone.
The creaking noise I heard was somewhere off to the right of where I was currently. It sounded like something too big, moving around in the air ducts. I squinted my eyes, trying desperately to see anything that would lead to a way out of this room... and away from that awful smell.
That smell, I knew that smell. I used to work in a pet cemetery and crematorium, and nothing could be mistaken for that smell. It was the smell of death, the smell of rot and decay. I didn't know where it was coming from, but I knew it was the scent of death.
"Who's there?" I called out again to the darkness. Slowly, I dropped down to my knees, feeling the floor with my hands, I began to crawl inch by inch forward, cautiously. I didn't know what was in here with me, but I didn't want to risk ending up being another source of slow decay in this unknown room.
After a moment or two of crawling I heard a noise, again off to my right. A faint clicking noise, like the sound your dog makes when he scampers across the kitchen floor. I froze. Holding my breath, I strained my vision again. This time, to the right, but still, I only saw darkness.
How was this possible? I thought to myself. I didn't know what time it was. My cell phone and purse were gone and it was too dark to see my watch. I figured it must be night time, as I couldn't see any sources of light anywhere. Not even a sliver of sunlight peeking in through a high up window, or the base of a distant doorway. I didn't know what to do, other than to keep crawling forward, and try not to end up dead.
Suddenly, I felt something with my left hand. Something cold and wiry. Gasping, I jerked my hand away by instinct. I waited a moment, but the being didn't move. My heart thudding in my chest, I slowly reached back toward the mass. I had no idea what I expected to find, but it was the first thing I had come across since I came to in this dank place.
About ten inches forward was the thing. I felt it slowly, carefully with both hands. It was cold and stiff, with coarse fur-like hairs covering it. I slid my hands up, and could feel what seemed to be ribs protruding through the course fur. Then, about halfway up the bony ribs, I felt something mushy and gelatinous. I cried out in disgust as my fingers sunk deep into the sludge.
I pulled away again, and the smell of death overwhelmed me. I vomited as the putrid scent filled the air. I understood now where the smell of rot was coming from, having just stuck my hand into it.
Panicked, I stood, and began running straight ahead, away from the rotting carcass that was to my left and whatever clicking claws prowled off to my right. I ran for dear life, tears flooding my eyes. I didn't know where I was, and I didn't know where I was going, but I had to do something!
Crack! I ran headlong into what felt like a cement wall, knocking me back onto my rear and stealing all the breath from my lungs. Gasping for air, I pushed myself up into a seated position, turning so my back was to the wall. Now at least I know nothing could get me from behind.
The tears continued to flow as I tried to retrace my steps. I tried to figure out exactly how I ended up in this room. I remembered waking up in the morning. Tuesday morning. I got ready for the daily grind that was my job. I was a journalist for the San Francisco Chronicle, and had been hot on a story about a murder investigation that had all of San Francisco's Police baffled. It was the brutal murder of a woman that had happened last Friday, late at night in her apartment.
Whatever the thing was, it broke into her apartment through a glass sliding door. Her apartment, on the second story. The balcony was a good twenty five feet off of the ground, but it was clear that the glass had been broken from the outside inward.
The victim's blood was trailed from the kitchen down the hall to her bedroom, where the murder happened. Her left arm had been snapped at the elbow, and ripped clean off. It was completely drained of blood, as were both legs and most of her upper body. She had a two pronged turkey fork plummeted into her chest before her blood had been sucked dry. What ever had attacked her had raped her as well. But when the police did tests on the fluids, it didn't come back as human or animal. It was completely unrecognized fluid that didn't match DNA strands of any creature humans had ever encountered. The beast had continued to copulate with the victim after her death, and then disappeared back into the night.
No other cases even remotely similar had occurred prior or since, and the police were stumped. Reporters and media were all over it, but no one had found answers. That is... Until I did.
I was working late on Sunday night, reviewing the surveillance video from the bank across the street from the victim's apartment. The camera angle picked up the rear lot, leading to the balcony which the thing broke in through. And at about 3:17am on what would technically have been Saturday morning, a faint blur of grayish silver could be seen darting across the lot. Whatever it was, it was gray and very emaciated. It looked ill, but it moved so fast. I barely caught a glimpse of the thing. Whatever sort of alien being this was, it wasn't human.
I had called my boss, Michael, right there on the spot, forgetting that it was nearly 2am. He was irritated with the late call until I told him why. Excited, he told me to keep the tape somewhere safe and not tell anyone else of what I had observed. He wanted to consult his “contact” before proceeding with it any further. He told me to call him on Tues.... Wait.
That's what I remembered last. I was walking to work Tuesday morning. It was about 6am. Still dark, as the sun hadn't quite peaked the horizon just yet. I had been trying to reach my boss, but he never picked up his phone.
I never made it to the office.
I was hit hard on the head from behind.
That's the last thing I remember.
That is how I ended up here. I just knew it.
“So,” I heard a raspy voice call from the darkness, “You have figured me out.”
The voice seemed to be echoing from all around.
“Who are you?” I demanded, “What do you want from me?”
“Who am I?” the voice bellowed, “You saw me the other night, on the video.”
“The video?” I echoed, confused. It couldn't be.
“Yes,” it answered, “The video of the balcony. Of Amy's balcony.”
I gasped. Yes. This was the assailant. The victim's name had been Amy. Amy Reeves.
“What do you want?” I asked the looming darkness again, now quivering with fear.
“Well, I want to preserve my anonymity,” he laughed disgustingly, “And I wouldn't mind eating again.”
“Eating?” I repeated in disbelief. The blood. Of course. It was all sucked dry. That must be how this thing feeds.
“That's right, young lady,” he said almost tauntingly, “I drank from that dog yesterday, but it just wasn't enough.”
I whimpered a bit. Dog. Dead dog. That horrid smell. I had to suppress another gag as it all came back.
“Hahaha. I see you found it.” he barked with a cruel laugh.
“Who are you?” I screamed into the shadows, choking back tears, “Where am I?”
“I go by many names, but here, I am known as the Razor,” he bellowed from the dark, “And this is my home.”
After a pause, I heard a click, and the room was bathed in blinding white light.
I pressed myself up against the wall, and blinked a few times, waiting for my now blinded eyes to adjust.
After a moment, I could see again. I saw the dog, laying in a heap on the floor to my right. His black fur was matted with dried blood to his now frail body. I looked up hesitantly, and strewn all through the room were various carcasses of dogs, cats, rats and next to a massive, blood-drained cow, was the Razor.
His features were staggering. The thing stood nearly seven feet high, with thick gray skin stretched taught over his bony structure. He had claws on his feet and hands, explaining the clicking noises I heard.
His claws clicking along the concrete floor as he paced back and forth, a maniacal smile crawled across his face, revealing his long, blood-crusted fangs. His eyes were golden yellow, with slits in the middle, similar to that of a reptile, and his arms stretched outward toward me menacingly as he slowly stalked closer.
“Stay back!” I cried, shaking violently with fear.
“Or what?” he laughed.
“I'll kill you! I swear it!” I threatened, though I had no idea how I could even pull it off. I had nothing in my pockets, and saw no weapon-like objects in the room. “My boss knows about you!” I warned, hoping to bluff him into letting me go, “He will realize I am missing. He will find you!”
“Your boss, huh?” the Razor asked teasingly.
“That's right,” I answered, faking confidence.
“You mean, Michael?” he flashed an evil grin.
“Wait! How do you....?” I trailed off, shaken.
The Razor then stepped to the right, behind the cow, revealing a human body, splayed wide open and strewn from chains on the wall.
“Michael!” I cried.
It was my boss, hanging lifelessly from the chains, his arms outstretched to impossible angles, and his throat slit from ear to ear. He hung over a plastic tub, translucent, with the bottom two inches filled with his blood.
“No!” I cried out, tears streaming down my cheeks, “Why?”
“Because he knew too much. You know too much,” the Razor replied, nonchalantly.
“Please just let me go?!” I begged.
“I can't do that,” the Razor said with a sick laugh, “You humans are too much fun. Especially you females. That Amy, she was a spicy one! She didn't even give me the gratification of killing her, she took her own life. Little bitch,” he spat, “But I won't let that happen again.” He glared icily at me.
Frantically, I began canvassing the room for a way out, now that I could see. My heart was racing and I felt like I was suffocating. Behind me was a solid wall, with no doors. Both adjacent walls were solid as well aside from the vent he had climbed in, which i couldn't reach.
I could see what looked like an industrial garage door on the opposite side of the room from me, about fifteen feet from the Razor. There were no windows in the room at all.
It was a concrete box.
A tomb.
I had to get to that door.
The Razor seemed to pick up on what I was thinking, because he began to approach me faster, aligning himself between the door and me. His grin grew wider and more sinister as he stalked closer.
“You know there is no escape, don't you?” he taunted.
“You won't get away with this!” I screamed at him, the sobs now becoming uncontrollable.
“Ah,” the Razor gawked, “But I already have. And no one will find you here anyway. Not that there will be much of you left to find after I'm finished.”
Out of sheer desperation, I darted left, barely avoiding the Razor's deadly grasp. There were support pillars spread throughout the room, similar to what you would find in a basement of a large building. I ducked behind one, putting the concrete column between myself and the monster.
“What do you mean by, "many names"?” I asked, trying to distract my aggressor.
I had managed to move about ten or so feet in the direction of the opposite wall, and winced away from my boss' horrible fate, but I still had a good twenty feet to go until I would be close enough to the door. And the door was mechanical in nature, so I would have to figure out how to make it open.
“I have many names.” the Razor answered willingly, “It depends on where I am.”
“I just want to go home,” I sobbed.
“My home isn't good enough for you?” he asked, his voice growing closer.
“I miss my brother,” I cried, tears blurring my vision as I cowered behind the pillar closest to the door.
“Your brother?!,” the Razor mocked, "What's he going to do? They'll never find you."
Suddenly the Razor appeared to my right, in front of the door, reached out with both savage hands, and grabbed a hold of my throat.
“No!” I cried, and began pulling against his hold, slowly feeling the air escape my lungs.
“You don't need to be alive for what I'd like to do to you!” the Razor threatened, "And I need to cover my tracks.”