Deluge: The Conqueror Worms II

CHAPTER 52

“So, are you going to tell me more about this group… what did you say it was called?”

“Black Lodge.”

“Right.” Gail nodded. “How come I’ve never heard of them?”

Simon smiled. “You obviously didn’t spend your free time trawling the internet. There was endless speculation about us on the various conspiracy-minded forums and blogs. In truth, the internet was our undoing. We’ve existed for ages, but it wasn’t until the advent of the internet that we became exposed.”

“Centuries? So, you’re not some offshoot of the CIA or FBI?”

“No, nothing like that. Tell me, Gail, are you familiar with the story of the nativity?”

“The birth of Jesus? Sure. But what does that have to do with—”

“The three wise men were also known as magi. They were representatives of our group. But we go even farther back than that.”

Gail opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, they both heard footsteps coming down the hall. They turned to look as McCann walked back into the room. He carried a butcher knife, suit jacket, and a pillowcase that was leaking fresh blood. Gail watched as a suspended droplet dripped down onto the carpet.

“What’s in the bag?” she asked.

McCann grinned. “Dinner.”

“Are you okay? You seem… I don’t know. Tired.”

“I am tired,” McCann said. Then he approached Simon and handed him the suit coat. “I found this for you. Hope it fits.”

Simon stood up, and Gail quickly turned away, but not before catching another glimpse of his wounds. She heard the whisper of cloth over bare flesh, and then Simon cleared his throat. She turned back around. The injured man’s face was red. He glanced down at his exposed lower half and blushed harder.

“I suppose it’s better than nothing.”

“There’s more downstairs,” McCann said. “I found the cubbyhole where our boy was living. Most of the clothes are torn or wet or dirty, but you can probably make due.”

“I’ve got an idea.” Smiling with his split and swollen lips, Simon took the coat off and tied it sideways around his waist, like a loincloth. Then he held his arms out to the side and slowly turned all the way around until he was facing them again. “Is that better?”

“Much better,” Gail said, surprised at the flutter in her voice.

“There’s other stuff downstairs, too,” McCann said. “Water. Weapons. We should be able to stay here for a bit, and recuperate. Not that it matters, though. Not really.”

Gail frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I figured it out,” McCann replied. “None of this matters, because we’re already dead. Think about what’s happened. The weather doesn’t act like this. It can’t rain like this all over the world. It’s not scientifically possible. And all those monsters—the worms and the things in the water. They can’t be real. We’re dead. We’re dead and we’re in Hell.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in Heaven and Hell.”

McCann shrugged. “No sense not believing in something that’s right there in front of your face. We’re in Hell, Gail. Only difference is that Hell isn’t hot. It’s wet.”

Simon took a faltering step forward, wincing in obvious pain. They reached out to support him, but he waved them away. Grimacing, he took another step, and placed his hand on McCann’s shoulder.

“I can assure you that we’re not dead, friend. At least, not yet. But you are partially correct. Another realm of existence—not Hell, but the Great Deep—is pouring over into our own. And if we don’t act soon, then we will indeed be dead.”

He brushed slowly past them and walked toward the door. Gail and McCann stood staring at him. When he reached the hallways, Simon turned and beckoned.

“Come. We have much to discuss.”