Bad Glass

And then they were on him.

The room filled with growling and a single shrill howl. Fangs flashed as jaws clamped down on Mac’s arms and legs, pulling him to the ground. Shaking muzzles. Tearing flesh. I couldn’t hear him over the scrabbling claws and deep-throated growls, but I saw his mouth flash open. I don’t know what he was trying to say. I don’t know if he was trying to call out Amanda’s name once again, or if it was just an incoherent howl of pain and anger as the wolves tore chunks of flesh from his body. I saw one angry muzzle dive in and clench shut around his face, locking tight and shredding his flesh back and forth before finally pulling back with a mouthful of cheek and lip, leaving behind blood and a glimpse of pale white bone. Then Mac was gone, lost beneath a blanket of writhing fur.

The frenzy went on for nearly a minute before Amanda stepped forward into the edge of the fray. She made a noise at the back of her throat. It wasn’t a growl, more like an oscillating whine. The pack slowed its frenzy, then backed away one by one. The final wolf had a large chunk of Mac’s arm dangling from its blood-drenched muzzle as it stepped back.

Amanda didn’t even glance at the slab of shredded meat and jutting bone. She just turned, and the entire pack turned with her. They ran into one of the connecting corridors, soundless and graceful.

And they were gone.

I think it might have just been my imagination, but at the last moment, just before she disappeared from sight, it looked like Amanda dropped to all fours and started bounding forward on hands and feet. In that blur of activity, however, I couldn’t be sure.

I stood at the threshold and watched as the last of Amanda’s pack disappeared into the darkness. Then it was quiet.

I could feel Charlie, Floyd, and Taylor in the space behind me. Standing there in shock. But I didn’t turn around and look. I didn’t want to see their horrified faces.

They’d be turned toward me, I knew, looking to me for direction. But I didn’t have the answers they were looking for. I didn’t have a clue. What I did have was a splitting headache. I had a lump in my throat and a small animal turning somersaults in my stomach. But no answers. No ideas.

Mac was dead. That was about all I knew. He was dead, and he couldn’t have been any deader. Nothing but a disjointed slab of meat piled in the center of the floor.

But Taylor was safe. Thank God, Taylor was safe.

I looked down at the baseball bat in my hands. Disgusted, I tossed it aside.

After nearly a minute, Charlie stepped up behind me. “See that corridor?” he whispered into my ear. His hand shot forward, pointing to one of the connecting tunnels. It was filled with flickering orange light. “That’s fire down there,” he said. “We must be near the mushroom. The army’s burning it from the ground.” He paused for a moment, letting his outstretched hand drop back down to his side. “It can’t be healthy down here … being so near.”

I inhaled deeply. I could taste the thick char of smoke in my lungs. I hadn’t noticed it before. I’d been distracted—what with Amanda and the wolves, with Mac and his violent death. I coughed deeply and expelled a large clump of phlegm.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, turning away from the room. “We got what we came for. We got Taylor. Let’s get back to the surface.”

Taylor was standing at my shoulder when I turned, and I nearly ran into her. The dirt on her face was streaked with tear tracks, and she refused to look me in the eye.

Broken, I thought. Taylor had always been broken to some extent, but it seemed worse now. Her abduction, that loss of control—she looked so fragile, so absolutely devastated. I moved to put my hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it aside and turned away, starting into the dark tunnel. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest, clutching herself tightly, a defensive pose, like a hedgehog curled into a tiny ball.

And as she pulled away, the darkness came to life around her, reaching out and grabbing at her arms and legs.

It was like an animal, this darkness, I was sure. With thoughts and intentions, trying to engulf her, trying to suck her into its depths. Coming at her from every side. Tendrils from every shadow. Writhing blindly. Touching her and wrapping tightly around her limbs, drawing dark lines across her back. Insubstantial yet also thick, wide. Not spider joints, thankfully, but long midnight-black tentacles. Pure black. Spilled ink, etched across a paper-made Taylor.

My heartbeat quickened, and I stumbled forward a half dozen steps, trying to catch her before she could disappear, before the darkness could consume her.

I’d found her. I’d ventured into the very depths of the city and actually found her!

To lose her again, to the darkness, to the tunnel, to the city—