Samuel

Chapter 32

The following day when Curran began his shift, he approached Dean with new orders from his master. Dean was to take lead for any future events. However, what was noteworthy in this exchange was his gate, his stride. When Curran approached Dean, he noticed his movements were robotic, bereft of humanity. Not swaying from side to side as he did previously. Now, his limbs moved linearly. Quite uncommon from his previous gait. Most startling of all about this exchange was when Curran was a foot away from Dean, his eyes remained unfocused. Not looking Dean into the eyes, appearing as if guided by an outside entity, all nuances of his humanity, lost.

Over the next few months, Dean noticed all the other servants, save himself, fell into this stupor. Still able to take direction and orders, however, they lacked any sense of emotion or personality. Terrified, Dean remained sure he was next. Fortunately, for him, the presence of a small child and Alm allowed him the chance to escape an early demise.

Moments before Jonathan's rampage, a trip to the market spared Dean. Sent to purchase a few treats, which Jonathan wanted for his new guests. Running late, requiring Dean to visit multiple markets to find them, Dean was not so bold to return empty handed. Upon returning to the building, Dean saw a spectacular sight. At the very top, precisely where Jonathan's penthouse sat, a sharp white light with black spirals flickered off and on.

Unnerved by this display, he slowly made his way up to the elevator. Unfortunately, a sign hung precociously with scotch tape reading, out of order. Leaving Dean with only two options, he could traverse the many flights of stairs, or he could wait. Fortunately, for him, he chose a compromise of the two. He waited for 10 more minutes before making his way toward the stairwell, proving to be his salvation. As he rounded the corner to the stairwell entrance, he heard a yelp of pain followed by complete silence.

Stopped in his tracks, gazing at the entrance to the stairs, while the door shook slightly, Dean steadied himself. Blinking his eyes repeatedly attempting to clear his vision, Dean couldn't believe what transpired before him. The door rounded bowing towards him as a balloon blowing up. Dropping the bag, Dean backed away instinctively. The contents of the bag clattered to the ground as some vegetables rolled outward. The lights above flickered accentuating the dilemma around him. Looking upwards, noticing a black gelatinous mass seeping downward from the ceiling, Dean froze. Moving with sentience, the black mass shifted and turned and flicked as a snake stalking their prey.

Just then, the door splintered into hundreds of pieces. The fragments plunged forward towards Dean. Turing round the corner, to protect himself from the impending onslaught, he, unfortunately, opened his left side. His body stiffened as the shock of pain pulsed from his left. A wooden shard plunged deeply into him. Tripping over his feet, Dean fell into the security of the wall near the elevators.

Reinforced by steel, protecting him while the additional shrapnel lodged itself in the wall opposite the stair door. Taking a moment to regain his breath, proving difficult due to the piece of wood jutting out of his side while, simultaneously, penetrating his ribcage, Dean trembled violently. Staring in horror, he feared that it lacerated major organs.

Slowly, pulling it out, gritting his teeth in agony, attempting to focus on the harm that Jonathan would place on him if he did not show up. Dark red blood oozed from the wound site. Screaming aloud as he pulled out the shrapnel, the wail reverberated throughout the lobby, nearly masking the footsteps scurrying towards him from the direction of the stairwell. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Dean slipped before reattempting to move.

Movement stirred above him. The black mass ebbed as footsteps sounded closer. Shuffling, they sounded almost as if they tripped over each other. Peering around the corner, Dean witnessed a ghastly sight. The gelatinous mass swelled and shrunk as it held four people restrained by their necks. Their eyes bulging with fear, emoting the only feeling they could, locked into a deadly embrace with this tubule, powerless under the grip of this energy siphoning their very lives.

The scuffling noise, originated from their feet. Attempting to kick their way to freedom by pushing themselves against the wall behind them, black streaks lingered where the remnants of the shoes painted the walls. Two of the people fought the tentacles, throttling them. One, a blonde female about twenty years of age with a white blouse and a black skirt, and the other, a shorter balding man wearing glasses with a plaid button up shirt and slacks. Savagely they tore at the black mass, each assault enveloped by the hope of their freedom.

Savagely, they ripped and scratched at their restraints, gripping fiercely their nails bit deep, penetrating the depths of the nearly ethereal tubule. Bits of the black mass fell downward and spread onto the floor. As it fell apart from the whole, it dissolved and misted into nothingness. As the two fought their restraints, one of the other men appeared limp, shrunken in size. His shoes fell off his feet with a reverberating thump as his body withered. His otherwise pink skin darkened and his eyes yellowed. Like a boa constrictor, the tentacles circled him and pulled him into the stairwell and into oblivion.

The last girl, younger than the others, her skin previously lustrous with the glow of youth, absent of trenches, which time etches upon visages, now faced her destiny. Appearing to be only in her teenage years, her eyes closed with her mouth slightly opened. A tentacle utilized this opportunity to slither into her mouth. Jerking and flowing into her, it tore her neck muscles. Intertwining through her digestive system, tearing through organs, while trailing its main body, it infected her wholly. Her large round eyes opened suddenly, tears flowing heavily due to the torment her body underwent.

Turning opaque, the windows forever closed to the glories of the world. A shadow glossed over her eyes, the once vibrant green irises vanquished by the onyx mass, ebony bulbs replaced the windows of her soul. The veins in her neck bulged followed by those on her forehead. Before oblivion swallowed her, her body tore in half. Blood splattered far outwards, painting the walls, few specks found their place upon Dean's mortified visage, speckling his cheeks as he could not tear his eyes away.

Stunned, Dean looked down at the crimson droplets. Reflecting in the flickering lights of the building, disordered, fractured, and hopeless. The other two sucked into the mass pugnaciously. Dean observed the murky mass engulfing the last vestiges of the poor souls with widened eyes, the world swallowed up within the form, hope for the future trailed in tandem.

Knowing the tentacles would soon seek him, panic flooded his brain. Knowing he needed to flee immediately. Distracted, movement alerted him to his periphery. Another black tubule writhed mere inches from him. Fear projected him to flee, his body, not feeling his own, swelled with energy as it radiated through his being. Taking flight, a tingling sensation brushed his back. An involuntary gasp left his mouth followed by a deep inhalation. The type, which pushed spittle down his throat, tickling down his esophagus, releasing a deep heavy cough causing his eyes to flutter. Too fearful to look behind him, he propelled out towards the main entrance.

As he neared it, he saw a group of individuals frozen with their mouths gaped open. Pushing past them, the cool night air blasted his face. The scent of vehicle exhaust and putrid trash flooded his nostrils. A cacophony of noise inundated him. Vehicle engines idling, car horns and distant shouts welcomed him to Manhattan. Not noticing the cold sweat on his forehead until the breeze caressed his skin. Clutching his wound on his side, Dean sprinted block after block until he could not push himself any longer. When he finally could not go any further, he rested upon a building wall adjacent to Central Park.

Ahead of him, a man and a boy familiar to him stepped into a sedan. Attempting to call out for help, pain overtook him forcing him to his knees. His one salvation sped down 5th avenue. His eyes rolled upwards as his knees buckled under him. Hitting the sidewalk, face first, a crunch notified him of his nose breaking. Pooling blood around his face, the pain pushed the darkness away, momentarily. Noticing an itchy sensation enter his wound, Dean could not place what transpired around him. Before the gloom engulfed him, he briefly saw an image of Chandral smiling.  

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