The Devourer Below: An Arkham Horror Anthology by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Arkham Horror
Publisher: Aconyte
Published: 2021-07-06T00:00:00+00:00

To Be Continued…

All My Friends Are Monsters

Davide Mana

Later, Ruth Turner would tell herself that it all started on the night the cops raided the Southside Speakeasy. When things twisted out of shape and the nightmares began, she needed to find a starting point to give her story a direction and make sense of it. And the hectic run in the alleys, feet slipping on the wet paving, her breath short, was as good a beginning as any other.

Hidden in the arch of a doorway, panting, she had tried to catch a glimpse of whoever was coming after her, unseen steps echoing in the dark. Her heart pounded in her chest not just from the strain of the long run. Running in men’s shoes was a lot easier than running in half heels. But being caught in a bootlegger’s place? And wearing male clothing?

She shuddered. Everybody knew what cops did to people like her. So when the shout had sounded, “Raid!” she had followed a few of the other patrons through the back door behind the bandstand, in the small courtyard where the privy was, and then through the iron door into the alley, and into the night, each man and woman for themselves, running.

Trying to slow down her breathing, she leaned out of her hideaway, and a body smelling of rose and tobacco slammed into her, knocking her back against the closed door with a bump. A brief cry, and Ruth pulled the newcomer into an awkward embrace, and placed a hand on her mouth. She could feel the heartbeat of the woman, a frantic pulse against her chest.

“Hush,” she whispered in the other woman’s ear.

More steps approached. Slowed down. Ruth and her companion retreated further into the shadows, and held their breath.

“I’m sure she came this way–” a man’s voice said.

Another man coughed, like a dog barking. “I’m too old for this rubbish,” he gasped, and coughed again.

The first man came closer. A streetlight at the head of the alley cast his long shadow on the pavement. A cop. He wore a beret, he carried a bludgeon.

With a screeching mewl, a cat shot out from behind a dustbin and ran to the end of the shadows.

Ruth’s companion pressed hard into her, just as the out of breath cop let out a rattling laugh. “There goes your mystery dame,” he said. “Let’s get back.”

“I tell you I saw her run this way.”

“If she did, she was faster than us. Let’s go back.”

The silence seemed to last forever. Then the first cop grunted. “Yeah, fine.”

Ruth and her companion remained still for a while, after the steps had died away. Then they finally let go of each other. “Are you alright?” Ruth asked, in a hushed voice.

The other woman nodded. She was about two inches shorter than Ruth, and wore a soft dress, the color impossible to tell in the yellow glow of the distant streetlight. Short, bobbed hair, and a sharp face, pointed chin and high cheekbones, her eyes and lips underscored by dark makeup.

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