“It wasn't up to you!”
“What the board doesn't know won't hurt them. As far as they know, the place fell victim to an oil fire. That's certainly what it looks like from the satellite photos, and now that the pre-fire investigation has been botched, they might never know. Isn't that right?”
“And me?” she asked. “And me, Godfried? What were you going to do with me?”
“I'm sorry. I protect the company, Katelyn, that's what I do.”
“And my four hundred thousand shares couldn't hurt, could they? Because in the event of my death, I'm sure my father would have willed them to you.”
Well, there it was: the ugly truth. Now, when it came to bending truth, Godfried was a world-class athlete. With just the two of them here, however, what was the point? “As you say.”
“As you say,” she mimicked, her eyes narrowing. But he thought he saw something in those eyes, something he didn't like. “They'll know.”
She stepped away from him then, taking out her phone and pressing a button on the interface. It took him a moment to realize she had been using it as a recording device. He would have expected a tape recorder, but maybe he was just old-fashioned.
“Katelyn, honey. You know that's not admissible. And you know I'm going to get it from you before you leave the room.”
“It may not be admissible on its own,” she said, “but eyewitness testimony is.”
“What?”
From out of nowhere, five other figures stepped out from behind the curtains, from behind the shelves, from inside the closet. Godfried looked around, confused.
“What?” he seethed. “In my house?”
As the figures came forward, they began to take shape. They looked like his security. Only they weren't his security per se. They were Valley Oil's security, and they did not look happy.
He stared at MacNab, who had stepped in front of the rest. The man had his service revolver by his side. “Take him,” he said.
“Collin! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?”
A guard walked towards him brandishing handcuffs.
At the same time, his goddaughter sidled up next to MacNab and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Nabby.”
“It's the right thing.”
“You're a good man.”
“I know,” he said, smiling.
Another man stepped in behind her, and she turned to throw her arms around him. This was a different sort of embrace, one far more intimate. Godfried saw that the man had flaming red hair.
“You!” he yelled. “I know you! We fired you! We fired you! You're supposed to be dead, do you know that?”
“Yeah,” the man said. “Funny, but I think the shoe is on the other foot, now.”
“Goddamn you!” Godfried screamed. “You're not getting away with this… any of you!”
He suddenly felt very dizzy. What a mess this was. What a mess this ungrateful girl had brought down upon his head.
Security dragged him through the hall, down the stairs, and out the back door. They had a car waiting, all gassed up and ready to go. As they passed under the awning, they entered the open air, and Godfried was covered in the freezing rain he hated so much.
Katelyn would have her way after all. She would blow this thing wide open.
Katelyn.
Her father's daughter.
Epilogue
Mason.
Mason, wake up.
His eyes opened, sticky with gunk he could not blink away. He tried to get a bead on where the voice was coming from and thought it must be inside his head. That was crazy, but no news there. Less than an hour ago, he'd killed with his bare hands, and he'd enjoyed it.
Look, Mason.
Look at what lies beneath you.
He wiped at his eyes, trying to get a sense of where he was and why he was still alive. If he was still alive.
And then, he shuddered. The great black expanse of the chasm opened beneath him. Featureless. Bottomless. Opening to the very center of the earth, as far as he could tell.
He tried to twist and found something gripping his back. It felt like a large, metal claw. It encircled his waist, perfectly supporting him over the void. There was something else, as welclass="underline" a metal arm was behind his head and… and something was in his brain. A metal rod with a pencil-thick needle had been jabbed into the back of his skull, holding his head straight.
He coughed something inarticulate. Saliva fell from his mouth, and he watched it trail down into the darkness and disappear.
Would you like to see?
The claw twisted, and he felt himself roll a hundred and eighty degrees. A moment later, he was looking straight up, a half moon shining a sinister light down upon him. He had fallen five hundred feet and something… something had snatched him out of the air. He remembered it, now. He remembered falling and then, very distinctly, he remembered something grabbing him. Something else occurred to him as welclass="underline" he was thinking clearly. His memory of the fall itself was clouded with blood-lust and animal rage, but now… now, he could think.
Looking at his arms and hands, he saw they were still splotched, and that meant he had not imagined his time with The Carrion. His body shook with frustration.
You hate them.
They took your mind.
They took your body.
It is right to hate them.
They tried to take us.
Our people.
As they took you.
Above him, he could see a labyrinth of tentacles, massive and hive-like. They obscured the opening above, growing out the cavern walls and twisting into one another. Humanoid figures crawled along them, inserting themselves back inside at intervals. They would sleep now, for a time. They would sleep until The Carrion needed to defend itself again. If his old pal got away, he imagined that would be soon. The image brought back the idea of their resemblance to bugs, and he was reminded of how much that disgusted him. He was turning into one of them for fuck's sake.
We can stop that.
“Stop what?” he asked. Was he talking to himself, or was that voice real?
We can stop the turning.
Mason laughed, then. It was thunderous, that laugh, echoing inside the chasm and down into the abyss.
We can.
We can do the stopping.
Make you stronger.
“Why would you?” he asked. He was surely dead now. This was all a dream, a temporary distraction on his way to the afterlife, but he would play along. There are times when you might as well go the whole hog, as Reiner used to say.
Because of who you are.
“And who am I? Some kind of chosen?” he asked, still laughing.
No.
The claw tightened, spinning him again. This time it was painful, the metal crunching bone. Mason coughed and spat a wad of blood. It spun him around to face the cavern wall, to face the entities he was addressing. They wanted his full attention, and crazy or not, they had it. Because now, he hurt. Now, they were pissing him off.