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The Beast Below- Chapter 10.

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Night was as quickly replaced by day as it was slow to get to that point. Rory sat up, groaning at the banging headache he hadn’t evaded in his little sleep. A tired moan sounded from the floor. Rory scooted to the edge of the bed and peered down. Maria was curled up in front of the toilet, her arms wrapped around her stomach even in sleep. She was deathly pale, and dark shadows bloomed underneath her eyes, compliments of lack of sleep, and feeling so shitty.
Rory slipped down from the bed and lightly shook her shoulder, murmuring,
“Maria. Time to get up now.” She moaned again, and opened her eyes, sitting up slowly and looking at him through heavy eyes. She took one look at him, and grumbled hoarsely,
“Don’t you say anything.” Rory smiled good naturedly at her.
“You look well this morning,” he said sarcastically, brushing some strands of sweat soaked hair from her face.
“Shut your gob,” she answered in a tired tone, placing one hand over her gut and grimacing. Rory slapped her on the back encouragingly, trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing; if this had been the aftermath of a hard night, he wouldn’t be the least bit concerned; if it had been the aftermath of a stomach bug, sure, a bit more of a reaction; but, as this was the aftermath of something completely unworldly, he had more of a reason for concern.
He rubbed her shoulder sympathetically.
“Seriously, though, you alright?” he asked, to which she just rolled her eyes.
“I think it’s quite obvious I’m not,” she griped, just getting to her feet, only to start swaying uncertainly. Rory got up to help her stay steady, not liking how difficult it seemed for her to be upright. She groaned,
“Uggh, I thought I’d never feel as bad as I did the day after my 21st.” She wiped traced of bile away from her mouth.
“Mm,” Rory agreed, nodding wistfully; the morning after had been so fun; her calling him at 10 in the morning, complaining that she was dying; him having to go over and make sure she didn’t choke on her own vomit. If that’s not fun, Rory didn’t know what was.
They both silently got dressed into their jail garb, and reluctantly left their cell, walking through the quiet halls. It almost disturbed them, it being so quiet; there was always someone carrying on during mental episodes, or some guard getting uppity at some recidivist. For there now to not be any noise at all, was troubling after a night such as the night that had just passed.  Yet, after merely a fortnight of events much more deranged than the one at hand, one came accustomed to blocking out any strangeness, and just accepting everything as normal. So, without giving much thought or care to the whys and where’s of everyone around them, they walked silently to the dining area, got given their rationed morning meal, and took their seats at the back of the room.
Rory tucked in right away, but, Maria took a few minutes before she even so much as looked at the measly meal in front of her. She took two or three hesitant bites, before sliding the plate away from her, over to Rory, who was already almost finished with his.
“You want this?” she asked, and, without really thinking about it, Rory shrugged and pulled it towards him. Then she just sat silently for the rest of their stay there, watching Rory eat, with a disgusted look on her face.
When he was halfway through Maria’s plate, and there were more people in the room, there was a crackle on the intercom system, and the Warden’s voice came through, all warbled and staticy,
“Attention all residents of the Coojun Gaol." Maria ignored it completely, but Rory looked up idly, his fork frozen halfway to his hanging open mouth. "Do I have your attention? Okay, good, here, listen, you are all to gather in the gymnasium at your earliest convenience, which would be now if you value your life. Thank you for choosing Air Coojun, and we hope to have you with us again soon.” Then the system fizzled out, and there was the collective scraping of chairs against the tiled floor. Rory shoved the fork into his mouth, still looking upwards, then gazed over at Maria.
“Man, you ever heard someone sound so awkward?” he said just as a passing comment, as he got to his feet, shoving the rest of her food into his mouth.
“Oh, I can think of someone else,” Maria answered softly, giving him a cheeky, but tired, smile. Rory eyed her for a moment, tossing up whether to fake being hurt or not, but, just ended up smiling as well, not being able to help himself.
“You best not be talking about me,” was all he said, before he gave her a hand up, and they joined the long progression of inmates as they all trumped it on out of there. It went unnoticed that they all looked slightly trepidated.
“Of course not, bae,” Maria answered good-naturedly, running her finger down Rory’s chest, giving him the shivers. It seemed redundant that, even after all this time, Rory should be allowed to enjoy the simple things such as this, but, in his eyes, he should cherish things like this, as it gave him something of the old life to hang on to. There wasn’t exactly a bounty of that left anymore, so, every little bit was a help.
“Good,” Rory quipped, giving her hand a light squeeze. It was still a bit shaky, but, Maria wasn’t letting on, doing her best to just suck it up and ignore the ordeal from yesterday and her symptoms that came as a side effect.
They both took a look around them, at the nervous-looking inmates that surrounded them, leading them forward.
“We ever been asked to go somewhere as a group before?” Rory wondered out loud. He wasn’t expecting the angsty response he got from the unshaven, B.O enslathered man beside him,
“No, why would you ask something stupid like that?”
“Christ on a bike, I wasn’t even talking to you,” Rory exasperated loudly under his breath, shuffling closer to Maria. She was also staring in confusion at the man. “Damn, these people are standing on pin heads. What’s got them so spooked?” Maria shrugged.
“Who knows? Could be anything with these people,” she answered, not sounding with her statement. Rory could tell that her mind was elsewhere, so, he just turned back to the front, and focussed on seeing if he could get a look over the sea of heads, but…fuck, he really was short, wasn’t he?
The door the gymnasium loomed ahead, its sign glowing a dull green over it, and some of the older prisoners groaned. They seemed unable to look up at the open door, and settled with training their eyes on their bare feet, probably counting the throbbing veins that ran like choked rivers through their grimy skin. Rory, for one, couldn’t see anything ominous, or foreboding about it, and thus, couldn’t see a reason for their nervous disposition. Not to say that he wasn’t concerned by it. He frowned sideways at Maria, who had also noticed the shift in mood, and she shrugged wearily at him, her face grey. Either her symptoms were getting worse, or she was becoming apprehensive of the approaching door. Rory just didn’t understand what all the fuss was about.
It wasn’t until he was in said room that he understood why.
**
The moment Rory had even stuck a foot into the door, he was hit by an eye-watering stench. It was indescribable, undoubtedly worse than body odour man next to him. The room was empty, though; no trace of anything that would generate a smell that bad.
“Everyone take a seat,” the Warden, who had walked through a door at the adjacent side of the room, bellowed. The older of the inmates rushed to comply, their faces full of fear. The others watched them flit about, all in distress, and not contemplating why. They took seats, though, unhindered, but obedient nonetheless; once you’ve been beaten just once or twice by these guards, you learn to obey very quickly.
Once all the inmates were crammed onto the bleachers on one side, and the guards on the other, the Warden limped to the centre of the room. Rory couldn’t tell if he was limping because of an injury, or because of his hefty frame. He was leaning towards the second one.
“Let’s not delay any longer,” said the Warden. He had no microphone, but his voice filled the entire room as if he did. Maria, who had been leaning on Rory’s shoulder with her eyes closed, jumped back at the sudden projection, into someone’s legs.
“I trust that you all have very busy lives to get back to,” the Warden said sarcastically, laughing a rocking alto sort of laugh. His discreet second chin, hidden behind his beard, juggled with the motion. No one joined in.
“As the guards would have noticed, I’ve been removing cells. This is simply for more space, but, unfortunately for some, that will resort in more prisoners in a single cell. I’m sure this won’t be too much of an inconvenience in accessing the prisoners, but, if it is, I’m all ears,” he continued, not seeming to take the inmates into consideration in that whole equation.
“And all arse,” Maria murmured irately to herself, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. She was right; his fat hadn’t only accumulated in his gut. Rory caught himself staring, disgusted.
“In addition to that…” the Warden trailed off, scanning the whole room with a menacing gaze. Curious, they all followed his gaze, expecting it to just be a means of threatening, but, it turned out that his sweeping glance had been a signal, which was made obvious by the sudden appearance of Wilson, solemn, almost grievous looking, walking into the centre. He was carting a red wagon behind him, and, it was full of…Maria put her hand over her mouth, swallowing harshly; it was full of dismembered, fermenting body parts, presumably prisoners long gone. That could be guessed from the ashen colour they all adorned.
The Warden grinned at the subtle shift in mood, and continued,
“It seems that normal punishments aren’t making much difference, so, I’ve made arrangements for some…improvements.”
By this point, Wilson had made his way to where his superior stood, and wheeled the wagon around to be at his feet. “Thank you, Steele,” he thanked, as Wilson dove his hands into it, making a repulsive squelching noise. Maria turned her face into Rory’s shoulder, her whole frame trembling. He tugged out a decapitated head, ears missing, nose torn raggedly off, dripping with gunky blood, and a spine. His hands were glistening, moist with a clear, thick liquid that dripped slowly to the floor, as if too viscous to be liquid.
“Now, Wilson, don’t hog all of it. This here is for the inmates, so they know their friends aren’t discarded carelessly,” the Warden play scolded, as Wilson turned to the guard side and held out the dismembered parts. Their eyes were fiercely trained on them, and the overflowing wagon behind him. They didn’t look repulsed, not at all. They looked…hungry.
Wilson slowly, keeping his eyes on them, bent his head towards it, and sunk his teeth into it. No inmate could see this, but, they could all hear the rumble of disapproval going through the guard side.
“I want you all to respect the souls of the departed, and in doing so, encourage us to treat you better,” the Warden commanded heartily, which was met with confused disbelief, and yearning; being treated better? Man that was a wish they all had! Just to have one less beating during the week would be dream come true. But, what exactly was required of them to obtain said better treatment? And, weren’t he just speaking of heightened amounts of punishment? Why the sudden switch?
“Just step right up and utter a prayer, and happy days will be found there!” the Warden chirruped.
No prisoner moved an inch, possibly too fearful of an attack of some sort, until a group of anorexic men ran forward, making sounds that didn’t even sound human. Once they had, Rory suddenly felt inclined to do the same, and, it seemed many others thought the same thing. He got up with the rest of the inmates and, tugging Maria behind him, made his eager way down to the centre.
He was blind to what he was doing, blind to everything around him, blind until he was being handed a bald head with its tongueless mouth drawn back in a scream of terror. Though his body stayed motionless, his brain was screaming; the room around him was different now. It was bathed in a light blue, and the Warden was no longer smiling. There was no one else in the room, but him and…the prisoners he was torturing. There was the…average torture, but, there was also the utterly far gone types as well, like the fact he was bending over the lying prisoners, and ripping chunks of their face away with his teeth.
He wasn’t aware he’d dropped the head, until the real room came rushing back. The Warden smiled at him and picked up the head for him, saying,
“Looked like a good prayer.” Rory wheeled around, dizzy after that…hallucination, and saw Maria kneeling behind him, clutching a fibula to her chest. She had her hand over her mouth and had her eyes shut, in whatever world Rory was just caught up in. He nudged the bone from her grasp, and her eyes flew open. Her shoulders jumped as she tried to keep from being sick.
“What, the almighty hell, was that?” she exclaimed in between represses. Rory couldn’t give an answer to that, as he had no clue in the slightest what he’d just witnessed. But, one thing was obvious; they weren’t the only ones to see something; all around them, inmates were covering their streaming eyes, falling to their quivering knees. Even the miserable son of a bitch who’d taken the last of Maria’s innocence was suffering immensely, bent over, his greying face scrunched up in pain.
Although it was horrible for him to think so, Rory could only think the word, ‘Justice.’ This served enough for now; he’d kill him afterwards, after he’d felt a little pain. In the mean -time, Wilson still hadn’t turned around, or straightened. And the guards were still watching him intently, unmaskable hunger prominent in their gaze. Rory could also hear the sound of meaty gulps, as if someone were eating something tough, yet, slightly gelatinous. Rory had a terrifying thought; was the noise coming from Wilson? No, it couldn’t be…But, he had to know. He walked up behind him, tapped him on the shoulder. Wilson turned slowly towards him, and Rory’s stomach lurched; Wilson’s eyes were wild, staring, and there was gunky blood on his face. He was panting, almost animal-like, whilst holding the half-eaten remains of the decapitated head.
Before Rory could fully take in the fact that Wilson was cannibalising, Wilson grabbed him by the wrist, the thick blood running down his arm, and dragged him away from the congregation, the viscera still in his grasp. Rory’s first impulse would have been to go on the defensive, to fight in any way possible, but, after so many times of that failing, one became accustomed to just going with it, and not struggling; you were going to be out powered every time.
He was taken just outside the door, then thrust against the wall. Rory was momentarily winded, but knew that to regain a loss of breath, you had to exhale, then would be able to properly breathe again. But, in the time it took to exhale fully, the mass of dripping, acrid-reeking entrails were forced in front of his face, bumping into his closed lips.
“Why, must you intervene, during replenishment?” Wilson spat furiously, shaking with fury. Rory hadn’t ever seen someone so angry, much less had said rage directed at him. It honestly made him fear for his life. “What’s more, made me look, the fool.”
Wilson shoved him further into the wall, making Rory open his mouth in surprise. In that one moment, the entirety of the entrails were pushed into his open mouth, and in his surprise, he swallowed.
“Eat that, and tell me it doesn’t turn you on,” Wilson said, as Rory spat what wasn’t ingested out, and tried to keep down what had. Wilson looked down disdainfully at the viscera that now covered his front. He wiped it off in silence, before seeming to change his mind and licking it off his hands, groaning in pleasure. Rory tried not to be sick, suddenly regretting having such a big breakfast.
“No, don’t you fucking throw up, you hear? I swear to God, if you do, I will beat your head against this wall until it caves in like a watermelon,” Wilson raged, whacking his blood-soaked hand against Rory’s cheek. Rory swallowed hard, deciding to keep human body parts inside him, instead of letting Wilson follow through with his threat. He was capable of carrying it now, after all.
Wilson suddenly grinned, showing teeth, and turned away while laughing. He took one hand away from Rory’s shoulder and stroked his increasingly hot face.
“I trust you’re aware that, now that you’ve witnessed what you have, you’ll have to be punished,” he said, and Rory shrugged, pushing himself into the wall, wishing to fall through it and escape this terror. His jawline was set, and his lungs were unworked. Wilson laughed again, turning back to face him, and caress his face further. He shivered gleefully, on the tips of his toes, making the difference in height all the more defined. “Oh, this is going to be sooo much fun,” he swooned, reaching into his side pocket and covering Rory’s face with a tea towel. It smelled like chloroform. A wave of dizziness swept over Rory, and his knees suddenly gave out underneath him.
“Whoa…” he murmured in surprise, holding onto Wilson’s wrists for support. Darkness loomed in front of him, sparks of delirium breaking out at the sides.
Wilson stroked his hair, cooing,
“Sh…Sh, Rory. Hush now.” The fury for this man was suffocating Rory, but, he was too incapacitated to convey it, making it all the more suppressing.
“Fuck ya, you cannibal,” he managed to get out, before sinking under, somewhat relieved of the temporary unconsciousness. So that he could have some peace, before being thrust into the mortal peril once again.
**
Maria watched as her fellow inmates slowly woke up to the real life from their dizzy day terrors, still feeling the effects of the draining, and as a result, not thinking clearly; her first compulsion was to go gently bring others struggling back to the present, even though they hadn’t exactly gone out of their way to help her last night. She’d also forgotten about the exchange between Rory and Wilson, and thus had no idea of her boyfriend’s whereabouts. And that didn’t concern her; she was unaware that she even had a boyfriend by this point.
There seemed to be no orders being put into action right at that moment, so, she wandered idly back over to the bleachers, replaying the horror in her head again; prisoners unfamiliar ran around her, dodging each other, while the Warden and a few of his guards tailed them, their teeth bared while an ear-piercing screeching played in the stifling air. Blood had stained their glistening white teeth, and the cleavers they held in white-knuckled fists. It didn’t take a genius to piece together what was happening. It did, however, take a genius to figure out when exactly it happened, and if it happened at all. Maria hoped to God it hadn’t, but, after what she’d seen and experienced, she could not be sure in the slightest.
She took a seat, head spinning, and rested her chin in her hands again, wondering why she was the only one over there. Sure, most were down on the floor, but, some must have gotten over it by now, surely.
None of the guards sitting adjacent her had really moved the whole time, and, if she wasn’t mistaken, she could just faintly see that nice-looking guard from yesterday morning. Charles, she thought his name was. At first, she noticed nothing wrong with him, except looking quite tired, but, upon further investigation, and a squinted glance that took her leaning on the edge of her seat, she could see that there was something very wrong; his eyes looked lifeless, and he was nervously rubbing his arms, not in any way the way a guard was supposed to act. What was wrong with him?
Suddenly, violently, he stood, kicking about three other guards sitting in front of him, and declared,
“I’m the last one left!” Maria looked up in panic, not intending an audible jump scare. Quite a few of the guards also jumped, but, others sat stock still, with these FML looks on their faces. Maria didn’t know how they could possibly look so bored when so much destruction was going on around them. Were they really that numb to it, that they didn’t have any reaction at all anymore? She knew their jobs were hard, but, Jesus! That was some steely features!
Charles, still standing, went into a fit of hysterics; unlike anything Maria had ever witnessed; he locked his fingers and wrung them over his head, his face scrunched up as sobs escaped through his clenched teeth. He squatted, his hands throwing his head to and fro. Sweat snaked down his side burned temples, soaking into his collar, which half of was flicked up, as if he hadn’t been with it while getting dressed that morning. That seemed very likely, from the current state he was in.
The guards he’d knocked with his scrabbling feet both rounded on him, looks of disgust on their faces. They grabbed his wrists and started dragging him down from the stands, as he took hold of anything within his reach, screaming,
“No! I can’t become one!” Maria jumped to her feet; Charles had shown them nothing but kindness, and, there was no reason for her to sit here on the side, and do nothing about this injustice. No matter the consequence. She supposed that anything they threw at her couldn’t be as bad as having her blood drank, with only flu-like symptoms to show of it.
She ran across the gymnasium in a tottery sort of way, yelling,
“You leave him alone!” The rest of the guards, who had been staring off into space with vacant expressions, all trained in on her with fiery fierceness. Why was it when she, a lowly female prisoner, yelled, they reacted, but when a fellow guard screamed in agony, no comment made. Damn, these people made no sense!
They all got up in unison, advancing forward, while the other two kept on dragging Charles towards the door, as he cried and screamed. They dragged him through the door, and a dull thump sounded, before all sounds from the terrified guard ceased. Maria felt an icy slide of dread creeping down into her stomach, and she thought that she would, again, be sick. But, there wasn’t time for that! Body, put it on hold for a moment, you’ve got to not get harmed by the wall of guards coming towards you first.
“Control yourself, guards! There is, perhaps more important, matters to take care of,” the Warden instructed, and, just as soon as they started advancing, they ceased, immediately turning themselves over to their superior. One moment was spent silently celebrating her victory, but, in the next, she turned her head to the bleachers, being quietly sick. This whole not feeling well thing was really starting to get on her nerves; there were important things to do, and she had to waste time, literally making herself feel worse? What kind of shit was this?
Wiping her dripping mouth in disgust, she turned back to see the last of the guards exiting the gym, only for a jolt of memory to strike her at the same time; Rory was taken by Wilson, and now all the guards were all going someplace, dragging Charles behind them. She didn’t know what they were going to do, but, she knew that it was nothing good. She staggered after them, repeating,
“You are not useless! You are not useless! You are not useless!” over and over in her head.
Oh, it finally emerges! Aint you all so dern happy?! 

*silence*

No? Okay, then. *slinks off sadly*


Anyway, sorry this took so long. It's not exactly the best chapter ever, but, it will surely suffice until I come up with more, most definitely superior chapters than this.

Comments are greatly appreciated. Even to criticise, just give them to me.
© 2015 - 2024 starfire-zorua
Comments8
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Jekyll1125's avatar
FINALLY WAS ABLE TO READ IT, OH MAH GAWD
I did it. I finally finished this chapter.
Rory gone done fricked up, and Wilson is gonna give it to him.
Maria, take a chill pill, you're sick as hell.
I thought this was a decent chapter! Plenty of action, I have to say, but I would have to say that its a little choppy at points and some grammar is a little, unnatural, I suppose. Not extremely so, so its easy to fix if you ever care to and fine to read.
///Waits for next bloody chapter/// Haha, double meaning there XD
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