That Thing At the Zoo - 01 by James R. Tuck Read Free Book Online

help.”
    “He’s bleeding like a stuck pig. I gotta call an ambulance.”
    I shook my head. “You can’t. That thing is still out there and it is not dead. If you call for help, then you are just ordering it a meal.”
    Jimmy’s face was turned up at me. His fingers were coated with red like he had dipped them in paint. “What if he dies?”
    “Hopefully he won’t.” It sounded cold, even to me. “Either way he has to wait until I kill this thing or the sun comes up.”
    The Nosferatu would go to ground now. If Jimmy called in an ambulance crew then we might as well ring the dinner bell. I had to go after it to finish the job. If not, it would hole up, find some easy prey tomorrow, drink some blood, and build its strength. Then it would be back to killing wholesale again; since I had spoiled this hunting ground, it would probably go to the surrounding neighborhood and feed on humans. The crime rate was so high the police may not even notice.
    That wasn’t going to happen. Not on my watch. I took a step away.
    “Stay here. Wait for me to come back. If I don’t, then wait for the sun to come up and call Detective Longyard. He’ll know what to do.”
    “You look like hell yourself, man. What are you going to do?”
    I held my gun up. “Suck it up. Keep moving. Finish this.” I turned and followed the Nosferatu’s bloodtrail into the night.

9
     
    I stood over the open storm drain. The cover had been tossed to the side and there was black bodily fluid smeared around the steel rim of the tunnel. I could see the top rung jutting from the concrete hollow. Under it, an inky shadow ate all the moonlight, looking as solid as the concrete it filled. Sewer gas wafted up in a pungent green aroma. The Nosferatu had gone to ground down that hole. I did not want to follow it, not down that dark, dank hole.
    I had to follow it to whatever lay in that dark, dank hole.
    I hate places that are enclosed on all sides. I’m not claustrophobic; I’m just a lot bigger than an average person. Where an average height sewer-worker might fit I would probably get stuck. Being stuck in a concrete tunnel with a wounded, thirsty Nosferatu is a real bad idea.
    My gun slid into its holster under my arm. Dread swelled in my gut, sitting heavy and sick. I would need both hands to climb down the hole, which meant no gun and no flashlight until I was inside. I sat on the edge of the hole and dropped my feet in. My spine was locked in an aching grind as I waited for something to grab them and haul me down into the dark.
    Nothing happened.
    I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
    My foot found the iron rung, the thin band cutting across my instep even through the thick rubber soles of my boots. Slowly I lowered myself in. The hole was tight on my shoulders. So tight my back rubbed against the rough concrete and I had to keep my arms stretched over my head. The air in front of my face grew hot, trapped between my arms and the concrete wall in front of me. I took a last breath and dropped down the rungs. Blackness stole my vision. I closed my eyes because the dark was so complete it gave me vertigo. The black swam in my eyes even though I couldn’t actually see anything.
    Stepping quickly, I moved down the rungs. The skin tore on my back and elbows as they scraped down the tube. It was getting narrower, squeezing in on me. Crushing me. I would be stuck, trapped. I would die surrounded by concrete and darkness, my breath eating the tiny bit of oxygen I held right in front of my face.
    My foot missed a rung and I was falling. Plunging. Fingers scrabbling, slipping on cold iron as the world dropped out from under me. For a split second there was nothing but the tug of gravity as I hung in space and everything fell away from me.
    Then I crashed into the bottom of the tunnel.
    The concrete floor smashed the air out of me. Lightning flashed inside my closed eyes from the jolt. Pain lashed up my right arm as it banged against the wall.