Cult Killing Monsters by Ash Ericmore

Author:Ash Ericmore [Ericmore, Ash]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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Fuck it. I’m still on the floor. Unmoved. At least the fucking police haven’t dragged me down the cells. I guess Ray did his job. Shit. I hope Johnny’s okay. I can smell death. Good. Those fuckers will have been diced up like beef. At least, the way I saw Ray going at it. I can hear dripping. Little sploots of wet. Blip. Blip. Blip. There’s a slight sweet smell in the air, too. And it’s hot. Like sticky. I can feel it on my skin.

The room’s hazy when I open my eyes. Must have hit my head real fucking hard. Bastard will have gotten what’s coming to him, though. Fucker must have worked out. Damn. I can’t see so much as feel this weird funk around me. There’s a sort of bubble gum pink hue to everything, and as my vision starts to clear, I see movement on the other side of the room.

I blink it out. Try to move. What the fuck is going on? I … I can’t move. Not properly anyway. I jerk my head up. A little panic there, that’s for sure. The thump of pain from a head blow stabs at the back of my skull and my eyes feel heavy. On the other side of the room is Johnny. He’s laying on the floor. Body’s twisted a little. Legs going out one way and arms the other.

The whoosh of blood in my ears clears and I can hear him screaming. Not in pain. But in fear.

“Johnny,” I shout back. “Johnny man, what the fuck’s going on?” I pull at my arms, my legs. Nothing moves. Wild, I look down myself. I’ve been covered in this … shit. It looks like deep pink goo, hardened, like fucking builder’s foam or some shit. It strings from the floor over me, and it’s hard as fucking nails. I kick at it with what little movement I have in my feet, but there’s nothing. Squirming and wriggling, I can’t get free.

Johnny screams again, drawing my attention back to him. He shouts, “Help me, fucking … help me.”

He’s on the floor. This gunk shit is on his hands. Now I know what it is, I can see it holding him down. In fact, it’s fucking everywhere. It looks like a P.E. sufferer has just had an accident in a sex shop. But pinker, you get me? Whatever. Attention back to Johnny. His feet are at the door to the living room and that’s where his attention appears to be. Then a hand comes from the room. Down on the floor. Like someone’s at his feet. It grabs his foot. It’s raw. Like whoever’s hand it is has been scratching too much. Glowing, almost, with this inhuman heat. Then the other hand, and they crawl up him, hand over hand like he’s a fucking gym rope. His screams become indecipherable. He stops squirming. I can see the dark patch bloom on the front of his clothes. Oh, Johnny, man. You’re better than that.

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