Infinity House by Shane McKenzie Read Free Book Online

wept. He wept harder than he ever had before. He tried collecting himself, but it only made him cry harder.
    You killed him. You’re both dead.
    “Shut up. Please shut up.” Mike grunted and swallowed his panic down, choked on the pressure swelling in his chest at the thought that he’d never see his brother again, never see the light of day again.
    And then he ran. He screamed as he went, wading through the rising thickness; zig-zagging insects smacked into his face. He saw faces peering out from doors, but he didn’t look them in the eye, just kept running. Baby cries and children’s laughter hit him from all sides, and he pushed on and on, pushed himself to the limits of his body. His legs ached, threatened to lock up, go limp on him; his lungs burned and his stomach cramped.
    And just when he didn’t think he could run any more, when he thought he’d fall over and be submerged and consumed, he found himself at what appeared to be the end of the hall, and facing him, tall and as black as an abyss, stood double doors. To his left and right, empty hallways stretched out as far as his eye could see, but there were no doors there, as if the bare walls were waiting for fresh tenants.
    From his side of the twin behemoth doors, he thought he heard weeping. He imagined James on the other side, clawing at the wood and crying for his brother to save him.
    “James? Is… is that you?” His voice came out squeaky, his throat raw. There was no answer. He pressed his ear to the door, heard the faint crying of children.
    Clenching his teeth and breathing deep through is nostrils, Mike shoved the doors in.
     
     
     

The walls, floor, and ceiling were animated with movement. But not from flies or maggots.
    Photographs. Each one flickered images like tiny television screens, every photo displaying its own horrors. The cries and whimpers of children floated in the room like fog.
    Under his left foot, Mike focused on the photo there and watched as a scene played out. A boy, maybe nine years old, sat shirtless on a hardwood floor. From the photograph’s viewpoint, the boy faced Mike, wiped his face with the back of his arm, but never stopped crying. A shadow grew from the floor until it covered the boy like a blanket, casting the shape of a large man on the wall. When the man stepped forward, the boy scooted backward until the back of his head struck the wall behind him. The man wore striped boxer shorts, but nothing else, and as he took another step, he slid out of them.
    Mike turned his head so he wouldn’t have to see the rest, but his eyes only landed on another photo. A girl, younger than the boy, lay on her stomach in a pool of blood, nude. The man stood above her with both hands on her head, and he twisted it and twisted it as if to unscrew it. It came free with a wet pop; the old man leaned over and kissed the lips, ragged strips of flesh dangling from the neck stump and raining blood onto the twitching body beneath it.
    Mike turned away, but was face to face with the living, repulsive wallpaper. Boys and girls of varying sizes and ages, all trapped in an infinite loop of atrocity. As Mike scanned them, hoping he wouldn’t see his brother’s face, he witnessed what the old man had done throughout the years, saw the acts that earned him his place in this Infinity House. Though the faces of the children varied with each photograph, the old man’s violence was constant.
    Though he felt sorry for these kids, he knew the children occupying the rooms in the house were no longer innocent. Their purity long ago stolen from them by the old man and his darkness, they were now part of the house, part of the evil that filled it.
    Find your brother. Get him out of here.
    As Mike backed his way toward the double doors, unable to force his eyes away from the vicious pictures, guttural laughter seeped from the walls. Vibrating bumps rose from the surface of the glossy photos like tumors. The rapid movement of the children’s undoing