HUMAN CAPITAL - MATT LUCAS
Chapter 1: A Chilling Feast
Jeffery’s instincts begged him to flee, but his muscles were petrified by visions of the beast lurking in shadow. The office he’d spent decades slaving away in was shrouded in darkness. This place had been his prison. Soon, it would be his tomb.
Guttural wheezing neared. Jeffery’s body trembled as he huddled next to his cubicle. Even the air quivered from his throat.
A chill permeated the office. Goosebumps raised along his skin and white clouds puffed from his panting mouth. It was as if all warmth and joy had been ripped from the world.
Jeffery’s balding head drooped into his hands. Tears cascaded from his face and onto his khakis. His thoughts lingered on his wife and twin daughters. Grief sent his heart plummeting within his chest at the thought of missed soccer games, movie nights, and simple dinners filled with laughter.
I spent those moments here, Jeffery lamented. I would trade every second in this place for one more with them.
His trembling hand reached up to his desk and grasped a picture frame. While the darkness hid his family’s faces, Jeffery found comfort as he pressed the photograph against his chest. He wondered how they would feel about him when he was gone.
Everything I did, I did it for you, Jeffery mourned.
Two red orbs shone at the end of the row of cubicles. Tremors rippled through the floor at his tormentor’s hefty steps. A sinister, yellowed smile slithered across its face.
Drawing a deep breath, the employee summoned his courage. The employee’s heart pounded like a piston. He clenched his jaw, fighting back tears. Jeffery refused to spend his final moments as a coward.
The menacing beast lurched forward. In a flash bony fingers snatched Jeffery’s throat and pulled him close. Slit nostrils fluttered as the creature huffed its prey’s musk. Shriveled, charcoal flesh hung loose on its gaunt face. Frigid, rancid breath blew against the employee’s face.
Jagged fingernails dug into his skin. Air squealed from Jeffery’s throat as his rhythmic panting intensified. He felt his heartbeat pulsate in his eyeballs when the beast’s grip tightened.
The creature’s menacing jaw yawned wide. A pale light glimmered before Jeffery’s eyes. At first, he couldn’t decipher the shimmer’s origin. However, its sinister genesis soon became clear.
A powerful vacuum wrested Jeffery’s soul from its vessel. With spiritual eyes he witnessed his body fall limp. Suddenly the sting of a hundred blades clamped down on his spirit. His light was devoured, shredded to ribbons by serrated teeth.
Chapter 2: Seeds of Dissent
Ben Davis’ weary blue eyes leered at the gray building. He ran his fingers through his thick, brown hair and drew a deep breath to quell the looming sense of dread. As Ben approached the building, a gaudy monolith cast a shadow over him. Gilded letters spelled out “Horwell” in an opulent font.
Just endure. God brought you here for a reason. Your three years are almost over. He’ll send you to better things soon, Ben reassured himself as he entered his corporate prison.
The chaotic buzz of ringing phones and frenetic chatter assaulted Ben’s senses when he arrived at his floor. Walking through the labyrinth of cubicles reminded the employee of a sick ward. Instead of coughing, anguish, and pungent stenches, the atmosphere was noxious with fear, anxiety, and depression.
Rounding into the accounting department, Ben found a crowd gathered by his desk. Some onlookers were whispering. Others stood in somber silence. A few women were dabbing their eyes with tissue to salvage their pristine make-up.
Ben’s colleague, Rey, stood towards the back of the gathering. Ben tapped his short, husky, cohort. “What’s going on?”
Rey motioned Ben away from the crowd. “Jeffery’s dead,” he whispered.
Ben recoiled in disbelief. “What happened?”
“Heart attack,” Rey divulged. “Security found him this morning.”
Ben’s heart sunk. He’d shared a cube with Jeffery for nearly three years. While they weren’t close, Ben remembered Jeffery as a kind, quiet soul.
“I can’t believe it,” Ben shook his head with pursed lips.
“The Horwell Heart Attack Club strikes again,” Rey sighed. “It’s been getting even worse since the stock price dropped.”
“You’d think management would spare the rod, seeing how it’s literally killing employees,” Ben sneered.
“C’mon now,” Rey supposed, “You can’t commoditize the human spirit . . . Horwell has no problem breaking that.”
“It’s a real shame about Jimmy,” a nasally voice interrupted.
The Vice President of Accounting, Stan Zucker, interjected himself into the conversation. Stan’s cold, beady eyes sent a shiver down Ben’s spine. There was a darkness to Stan that disturbed his subordinate.
Stan spent his days patrolling the office like a prison warden. Those beady eyes glared about in search of any slacking. When Stan’s mop of curly black hair crested the cubicle walls, a wave of minimized internet browsers preceded his wake. His patrols were unpredictable and kept even the most dutiful employees in constant paranoia.
“Jeffery,” Ben snarled, “his name was Jeffery.”
Stan feigned slapping his forehead. “Of course! My mistake!”
Ben remained unamused. “I figured you’d remember Jeffery, seeing as you publicly berated him two days ago.”
Stan cocked his head at Ben. “Excuse me?” He barked in outrage, drawing the mourners’ attention.
Ben remained defiant. “He made a transposition error on a balance sheet! So, you humiliated him in front of his peers and threatened to fire him! Now, you can’t even remember his name!”
Red-faced, Stan shoved a quivering finger in Ben’s face. “Have you seen our stock price? We’re in no position to tolerate shoddy work! That mistake could’ve cost us millions!”
Ben glowered at his flustered superior. “What are millions against a man’s life?”
Stan’s face tightened into a scowl. Gusts of air billowed from his nostrils. Ben had outmaneuvered him. He could either admit he valued money over his employees’ well-being or walk back his authoritative rhetoric.
Whirling around, Stan’s arms flailed at the assembled employees. “Everyone back to work! Now!” He bellowed before storming off.
Employees scattered like frightened pigeons. Hushed murmurs singed Ben’s ears as they passed. Some nodded at Ben, subtly lauding his insubordination. Others glared at him, yearning to witness his demise.
Rey raised his eyebrows. “Can’t say that was the best career move.”
Ben shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Chapter 3: A Fresh Strategy
Edward Horwell sat in stoic silence as his senior leadership team funneled into the opulent conference room. Their heads were low, wary to make eye contact with the CEO as they took their seats at the sheen, mahogany table.
A tense aura permeated the room. Edward relished that. Fear, anxiety, and depression were staples at Horwell . . . by design.
The twelve leaders took their seats and awaited word from the thirteenth executive. However, Edward’s icy gaze remained steadfast. Chairs squeaked as the leaders fidgeted in futile search for comfort.
Edward relented when the pregnant pause reached its inflection point. He leaned forward and ran his hand along the grooves of his slicked back, salt and pepper hair. “Marcia, give me a status report.”
Marcia sat at Edward’s right hand. She brushed her black curls behind her shoulder to reveal a golden necklace adorned with a sparkling emerald. Her manicured hands clutched the gem while her plump lips muttered in an ancient tongue.
Suddenly, her body shifted into a rigid state. Her green eyes popped open. Scarlet blood vessels sulked from the corners of her eyeballs until crimson consumed white. Her veins bulged as blood throbbed through her body.
No reaction came from the onlookers. Expressionless, they stared upon the bizarre spectacle. Edward, however, felt a nervous heat permeate his chest. He held his breath. Horwell’s fate hinged on what came next.
With a gasp, Marcia’s trance abruptly ended. Her eyes returned to normal. The bulging veins ceded beneath her skin. Panting, she turned to Edward.
“Our sacrifice pleased the beast,” Marcia confirmed.
Edward sighed in relief. “Praise be to the beast.”
“Praise be to the beast,” the executive team mimicked in unison.
Smiles and excited chatter abounded as dread faded. Edward reclined in his chair, relishing their success. It was then that he noticed Marcia’s somber expression. The CEO’s heart dropped. Something was wrong.
Edward’s face turned flush with trepidation. “What is it?”
“The beast was satisfied, but not satiated,” Marcia revealed. “Another sacrifice is required . . . soon.”
Edward’s fists pounded against the table. “Jeffery Rogers was out last ripe candidate! How are we supposed to find a suitable sacrifice so quickly?”
Marcia shook her head and shrugged. “He grows weary of the same flavors. Fear, anxiety, and depression no longer whet his appetite.”
“This is unacceptable!” Frank Rudolph, the CFO, threw his stubby arms into the air. His portly jowls giggled like an angry bulldog’s. “We’ve designed the entire firm around his palate!”
“Horwell survived because of him!” Marcia shot back. “Must I remind you where we were before the beast? At the edge of bankruptcy! Our wealth, power, and prestige . . . everything is from him!”
Debra Conner, the human resources lead, pursed her wrinkled lips and fixed her hawkish gaze on Marcia. “At what cost?” She countered. “We’re enslaved to a gluttonous abomination!”
“We’ll endure, as we always have,” Edward growled. “We have a choice.”
“How is this sustainable?” Debra scorned. “People are going to see how death has infested this place and we’ll have a mass exodus on our hands!”
“They won’t leave,” Marcia rebuked.
“You can’t know that!” Debra disputed.
“They have no alternative. We pay 20% more than any firm in the city,” Edward proclaimed. “Every one of those people belabored themselves with college debt just to join our prestigious firm. Now they’ve piled on mortgages, cars, and children. They’re as handcuffed to us as we are to the beast.”
Debra’s head fell into her hands. “I can’t do this anymore,” she declared. “I could handle sacrificing vagrants in the early days, but now, now I know these people. I hear their problems. I know their families. I’m done.”
“Quite the moral compass you have,” Stan Zucker sniggered.
Edward leaned back and folded his arms. His cold eyes leered at Debra. “Very well,” he relented, nodding towards Marcia.
Marcia grasped the emerald and began chanting. Fog crept up the conference room’s windows. The lights flickered before plunging them into darkness. Only dull sunlight snuck through the clouded windows. A guttural wheezing entered their midst.
“You can’t do this!” Debra shrieked. “I’m sorry! I take it back!”
“The beast demands unblemished loyalty,” Marcia answered in a hoarse voice, “and he does not forgive!”
The windows screeched as three scratches dragged across the obscured glass. A shadow lurked towards Debra before halting behind her chair. Marcia’s chanting ceased. Each member of the executive team sat in sullen silence. Even the beast’s wheezing relented. Only Debra’s distraught whimpering echoed through the darkness.
That’s when the beast unleashed its onslaught. A brutal cacophony of crackling bones, tearing flesh, and anguished gurgling erupted. Debra’s muffled cries soon faded, but the depraved carnage endured. Edward’s stomach churned as he listened to the beast feast on Debra like wolves shredding a carcass.
The gaunt creature stood over Debra’s mangled body, marveling at the grotesque display. Blood sopped his jawline and dribbled from the corners of its wry lips. Blazing, crimson eyes surveyed the executive team. The beast spat a shard of blood-stained bone onto the table as a warning to those who might renege on their oath before vanishing in a wisp of shadow.
When the lights returned, Edward strode to where the beast stood. He cocked his head to observe Debra’s body. “It appears Debra’s position is freshly available. Do I have any applicants?”
Stan leapt from his seat. “I believe I can be of service!”
“Very well,” Edward nodded. “What is your plan for the next sacrifice?”
Stan took a deep breath to compose himself. “The beast craves souls seasoned with negative emotion before feasting. Thus, the high-stress environment we’ve created to manufacture fear, anxiety and depression.”
“Yes, we know,” Frank groaned, waving his dismissive hand.
“However,” Stan tantalized, “these aren’t the only negative emotions at our disposal.”
Edward’s brow furrowed. “What are you proposing?”
Stan smirked. “Anger.”
Eyebrows raised and heads nodded around the room. Edward’s head bobbed in contemplation. “Do you have anyone in mind?”
“I have the perfect candidate.”
Chapter 4: Ripening
Ben’s fingernails dug into the arm rest’s leather cushion. His eyes were ablaze with rage as he glared at Stan. “My contract clearly states the terms of our agreement,” he growled through gritted teeth.
Stan shrugged. “Perhaps, but the provision I’m invoking overrides the term. Horwell invested in you. We paid for your master’s degree. We wouldn’t be astute businessmen if we let our investments scamper off without receiving just return.”
“I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain,” Ben snarled. “I gave you my three years!”
“Three years . . . pending that Horwell grants your release,” Stan corrected with smug condescension.
Indignant, Ben threw up his arms. “And why is my release being rejected?”
“Extenuating circumstances,” Stan sneered.
“Extenuating circumstances?” Ben probed.
Stan leaned forward on his mahogany desk. His silver Rolex shimmered in the light. “Horwell is struggling. Performance is low. The stock price is down. These are unsettling times.”
Ben’s brow furrowed. “I don’t see how that’s my problem.”
“Our top accountant just unexpectedly passed,” the head of accounting answered. “We can’t afford to lose our top two associates in rapid succession.
Dropping his head into his hands, Ben rubbed his weary eyes. His mind was abuzz in a desperate search for a winning argument. Suddenly, a possibility moved to the tip of his tongue.
“I could resign,” Ben posited.
The executive’s beady eyes squinted into an ominous grin. “You could . . . if you’d like to void the agreement and repay the loan we graciously gave you. I wouldn’t advise it. But, perhaps, you have $50,000 to spare.”
Ben’s face reddened. His escape plan was crumbling before his eyes. He’d only joined Horwell to take advantage of their master’s program so he could pursue a more meaningful career.
I’m trapped, Ben realized.
Ben made a final, desperate appeal to Stan’s humanity. “I’ve already set an interview with a forensic accounting firm! You’re robbing me of a chance at my dream job!”
The plea was met with a blank stare. “I don’t see how that’s Horwell’s problem.”
Ben leapt to his feet. “The problem is I’m shackled to this place at the mercy of my overlords!”
“Don’t worry, this won’t go on much longer,” Stan assured.
“How long?” Ben growled.
A twinkle glinted in Stan’s beady eyes. He cocked his head to the side with a wry grin. “When the time is ripe.”
Chapter 5: Seasoning
Frigid air pierced the covers like an icy blade. Ben grumbled as he wrapped himself with a thick blanket. He tossed and turned in a futile search for warmth. After six sleepless nights, Ben’s frustration boiled over.
His mind lingered on Horwell. Stan’s smug face haunted in his mind’s eye. Ben prided himself as a man of faith, but his hope waned under the weight of despair.
I don’t understand! Ben grieved as angry tears stained his pillow. God, why are you keeping me at Horwell? You say you have a plan for my life, but I don’t see it!
Frustrated, Ben rolled onto his back and flung off his cover. He covered his eyes with his palms. Frustrated fingers dug into his scalp. With a clenched jaw, the distraught employee sobbed out a noxious concoction of anger and hopelessness.
Wiping the tears from his eyes, Ben stared at the ceiling. That’s when he noticed a shadow cast by slivers of moonlight above his head. The darkness seemed to expand, writhing like an amoeba.
Ben rubbed his eyes. He surmised latent teardrops were responsible for the optical illusion. Still, the shadow remained.
The shapeless mass took form. Emaciated arms branched from the source. Three, jagged talons spread at the end of each appendage. Legs like those of a goat snapped from the torso and lodged into sockets with the crunching of bone against bone.
An oblong head manifested atop the gaunt body. Wisps of silver hair hung from a rotting scalp. The creature hissed as its serpentine spine jerked up its back. The shadow’s head abruptly spun so its jaw aligned with its shoulder blade.
Crimson eyes flared open. Wrinkled lips spread, revealing a disturbing smile of jagged, yellow fangs. The creature huffed the air through slit nostrils. Its body quivered with exhilaration as it inhaled an unknown scent.
Every muscle in Ben’s body tightened. Terror snatched the breath from his lungs. Every fiber of his being yearned to flee, but he couldn’t break his gaze.
In a flash the creature descended from the ceiling. Its head remained in a fixed position while its body rotated to face forward. The bed moaned when the shadow landed atop the mattress. Like a bloodhound it sniffed Ben from head to toe.
Ben was frozen with fear. His skin crawled as icy, rancid breath blew against him. He was powerless.
When the grotesque creature finished inspecting Ben, it snatched his right wrist. Ben wailed as serrated teeth plunged into his skin. Blood gushed from the man’s forearm and doused his bed sheets.
With a deafening shriek Ben lurched forward. His arms flailed at his attacker. However, he struck nothing but air.
The shadow vanished. Ben’s bloodshot eyes darted around his bedroom. There was no blood on his sheets and no sign of the hideous monstrosity that tormented him.
It was just a nightmare, Ben convinced himself, breathing a sigh of relief.
When the sun rose that morning, Ben hadn’t slept a wink. When his alarm blared, he rolled over and reached for his phone with his right hand. Then, his heart dropped.
There was a host of new scars on his forearm. They formed two, uneven semi-circles. Ben’s throat tightened. Bite marks.
Chapter 6: A Taste
Paranoid, Ben hustled through the office. The bags under his eyes had darkened as his daily torment progressed. His tie hung loose from his neck, failing to cover the coffee stains on his unwashed shirt.
Evil lurked around every corner. At first the creature was confined to night terrors. After a few weeks it grew more relentless, manifesting in waking nightmares.
Ben’s bloodshot eyes surveyed the office. He never knew where or when his oppressor would strike next. Keeping his head low, the employee turned down his row and ducked into his cube.
Quivering fingers pried open Ben’s laptop. He stared into the sheen screen and caught a glimpse of his disheveled hair and unkempt beard in its reflection. That’s when he noticed two crimson orbs looming over his shoulder.
Chilled breath puffed against his neck. The familiar, pungent stench seared his nostrils. A slimy, coarse mass licked his ear lobe.
Whirling around, Ben found his tormentor lurking over his shoulder. The beast lathered its lips with a black, forked tongue. Jolted with terror, Ben leapt from his chair. As he fled, he tripped and crashed to the floor. The creature lurched forward and burst into maniacal cackling inches from its victim’s face.
Ben skidded in desperation towards the back wall. Panicked panting howled from his mouth. His hands flew to cover his eyes.
That’s the creature’s maniacal laughter came to an abrupt halt. Ben lowered his hands and distressed eyes peering into the office. There was no monster, only Rey, who’d rushed to his colleague’s side.
“You alright?” Rey probed.
Every muscle quaked in terror. A lump swelled in Ben’s throat as he muttered the harsh truth. “No.”
Rey pulled Ben to his feet while craning his neck, investigating if others had heard the commotion. When he was convinced of anonymity, he leaned in and whispered, “Get outta here.”
Ben shook his head. “If I leave Stan’s gonna blow a gasket. He’s overloaded me as it is. There’s no way he’ll approve me leaving if I ask.”
“Then don’t ask.”
“What do you mean?” Ben squinted at Rey.
“We all know you’re overworked and over-stressed,” Rey explained. “Frankly, you look like a zombie having a bad hair day. I’ll cover for you. Just get outta here and get some rest.”
“I don’t know if I remember how,” Ben admitted, rubbing his temples.
“Find a place where Horwell can’t chase you.”
Chapter 7: Fruits of the Spirit
A chill rattled Ben’s bones as he walked the sun kissed sidewalks away from Horwell. Even when it was out of sight, the creature’s malicious presence lingered. Every shadow that caught the corner of Ben’s eye jerked him with terror.
That’s when a familiar building emerged amidst the towering skyscrapers. Its humble red brick provided momentary comfort. St. Paul’s Church was a peaceful oasis tucked within the chaotic beehive of the city.
Passing through the worn door, Ben noticed the dreadful aura dissipate. Whatever frigid fear permeated his being was replaced with a renewed warmth. It was if the creature’s icy grasp couldn’t penetrate this hallowed ground.
Relishing the brief reprieve, Ben strode down the dusty, burgundy carpet and sat in a creaky, wooden pew. In exhaustion he slumped over and rested his forehead against the back of the preceding pew. With clenched eyes he prayed.
God help me, Ben lamented. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t understand why you’ve trapped me at Horwell. Now, it’s literally driving me insane. Please, show me something, anything, to prove you’re even listening.
“Either that’s quite the prayer or a healthy nap,” a scratchy voice emanated before Ben.
Ben lifted his eyes to find the priest, Father Cabrera, smiling at him through square-framed spectacles. “I think it’s a prayer I was hoping would turn into a nap.”
Father Cabrera’s bald head nodded. He scratched the grey stubble on his chin as he inspected St. Paul’s visitor. “I can’t blame you. You look like you’ve been through the ringer.”
“You couldn’t imagine,” Ben tantalized.
Father Cabrera took a seat in front of Ben. “Don’t be so sure. I’ve seen bad. . . and I can imagine even worse. Which is it for you?”
“Worse,” Ben murmured.
“Care to share?” The priest offered.
The story sprung from Ben like water from a fire hose. He recanted every sordid detail. For good measure, he even displayed the remnants of his bite mark.
Throughout Father Cabrera remained undaunted. The kind priest listened with patience before asking a poignant question. “Do you believe in God?”
“I do,” Ben affirmed.
“Then why are you afraid?” Father Cabrera queried.
Ben paused in contemplation. “Because I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t see a way out of this abyss.”
Father Cabrera pointed towards the crucifix at the end of the aisle. “Jesus was swallowed by the abyss. And yet, three days later, he burst forth from death’s clutches in brilliant light.”
Ben sighed. “I understand, but, I’m not him.”
“Of course not,” Father Cabrera acknowledged, “but the day you came to believe you were baptized with the fire of the Holy Spirit. That same power, which raised our savior from the grave, lives within you.”
The doctrine was familiar to Ben. However, it left a perplexing question bubbling from his heart. “Then why is God letting me endure this torment?”
Father Cabrera’s lips pursed in empathy. “He works all things, even the worst things, together for good.”
“I know the Scripture,” Ben sighed, “but that doesn’t answer my question.”
Father Cabrera’s steadfast eyes met Ben’s. “Sometimes our path leads through the darkness so we can see God’s fiery glory more clearly. Remember, light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it.”
Chapter 8: The Spice of Salvation
An ember of faith smoldered in Ben’s spirit, burning away his anger, fear, depression, and anxiety. The encouraging scripture and Father Cabrera’s wisdom held the creature’s tyrannical presence at bay. For how long remained to be seen.
Still, nervous palpitations fluttered in Ben’s chest as he entered his home. Memories of the creature’s first attack raced through his mind. Since then, Ben’s home had become a place of constant torment. It was in his loneliness that his oppressor thrived.
Gleams of moonlight trickled through the small window on the other side of the house. The main light switch was about seven paces from the front door. Knowing the creature’s penchant for striking with swift ferocity, Ben had to act fast.
Sweaty hands balled into a fist. Every muscle in Ben’s body tightened in a desperate attempt to quell his terror. He drew a quaking breath and lurched forward into the darkness.
His right hand stretched into the abyss. After a couple bounding steps, the frantic search commenced. Ben’s quivering hand scrambled against the wall. Then, salvation arrived.
Light flooded Ben’s home and drowned the darkness. Tension melted from Ben’s body like ice against a flame. A sigh of relief billowed from his chest as he saw nothing but his kitchen to the right and living room to the left.
“Maybe it’s gone,” Ben pondered aloud.
That’s when he noticed the towering shadow cast along his floor. Ben’s shadow was strewn out before him. However, another seemed to run alongside his. The second shadow reached three feet further than Ben’s.
A wheezing, chilled breath blew against Ben’s ear. A surge of terror shot through his spine. Goosebumps rippled across his skin.
Whirling around with wide eyes, Ben came face-to-face with his tormentor. Red eyes glowered with ravenous exhilaration. A maniacal grin exposed rows of serrated teeth against a gaunt backdrop.
Adrenaline’s bitter taste bubbled on Ben’s tongue. Without hesitation he turned to sprint away from the creature. After only a few steps, a cold, clammy claw latched onto his ankle.
Ben fell to the floor. Jagged nails dug into his flesh as he was pulled into his tormentor’s clutches. In a desperate attempt to escape, Ben’s fingernails dragged against the tile to no avail.
With a powerful pull, the creature jerked Ben into its malevolent grasp. It flipped him on his back and pinned his wrists to the floor. Slit nostrils huffed the aroma of fear. A slimy, grey tongue slithered from behind sharp teeth to taste the beads of terror-saturated sweat from his brow.
There was no escape by his own striving. Though Ben acknowledged his own powerlessness, he knew there was only one he could rely upon. God, be with me! He cried out to God, in faithful resilience.
In a helpless moment of despair, a reply rippled through Ben’s mind.
I am, a comforting whisper sliced through hopelessness.
An odd peace fell upon Ben despite his turmoil. Still, his tormentor’s onslaught endured. A malicious whistling emanated from the creature’s lungs as it drew a deep inhale.
The creature’s sweeping breath wrested the air from Ben’s lungs. A fiery glow of gold and orange seeped from the depths of Ben’s being. His very spirit flowed into the creature’s mouth to be devoured.
Scarlet eyes widened with pain. Where there had once been gluttonous elation, there was now distress. White steam billowed from the creature’s mouth. The hissing of sizzling flesh charred its lips.
Hacking and strained gurgling erupted from the creature’s throat. Droplets of fire spewed from its mouth and returned to Ben’s vessel. With agonized yelps, the creature scrambled away from its prey before disappearing in wisps of shadow.
Panting, Ben reclined against the tile. He stared at the ceiling in contemplation of what just occurred. The answer arrived as Father Cabrera’s wisdom was called to the forefront of his mind.
The day you came to believe you were baptized with the fire of the Holy Spirit. That same power, which raised our savior from the grave, lives within you.
What had once been a hopeful ember stoked by Father Cabrera had spread into a faithful wildfire. Ben had something the creature could never defeat. There was a fire within him that no darkness could extinguish.
Chapter 9: Remnants of Past Feasts
After a night of restful sleep, Ben returned to Horwell. The cloud cast by his oppressor had seemingly vanished. With the harrowing experience behind him, the accountant couldn’t help but wonder if it was all a mere figment of his sleep deprived imagination.
Despite his psychological reprieve, a reminder of other troubles reared its head when Ben arrived at his cubicle. Angry letters adorned a red note that was stuck to his desk. My office . . . now! The note read in Stan’s familiar script.
A disheveled array of boxes and file cabinets filled Stan’s office. A wry grin that hinted at sinister satisfaction was affixed on the vice president’s face as Ben entered. That look only meant bad things were on the horizon.
“Take a seat,” Stan ordered.
“What do you need?” Ben cut to the chase.
“Are you aware of Horwell’s unexcused absence policy?” Stan sneered.
“I am,” Ben answered with a sigh.
Leaning back, Stan glowered at his employee. “Don’t think that, just because I’ve been promoted into Debra’s old role, I don’t still notice slacking. Thanks to your mini-vacation, I’m requiring you to make up the hours you missed after work tonight.”
Ben’s lips pursed as he suppressed the burning rage building in his chest. Just as he was going to answer, a knock came at the door. Marcia, Edward Horwell’s secretary peeked her head into Stan’s office. Her eyes were bloodshot and darted about with frenetic distress.
“We need you in the conference room,” Marcia’s voice squeaked.
“I’m with an employee,” Stan scoffed with an aura of self-importance.
“It’s urgent,” Marcia insisted. “There’s an issue with the commodity.”
The color vanished from Stan’s face. His arrogant smile morphed into a concerned scowl. “Excuse me,” Stan noted to Ben with a slight shiver in his voice as he hurried to leave.
Hesitant to leave, Ben scanned the office. He inspected the mountains of boxes that transitioned to Stan after Debra’s abrupt departure. The employee’s curiosity piqued when a familiar name was etched on a case at Ben’s feet.
Jeffery Rogers. Ben’s brow furrowed. He checked over his shoulder to ensure the door was closed. Once secure that he was alone, the employee lifted the lid and grabbed the front file.
When he opened the folder, his heart sunk, and a lump swelled within his throat. With trembling fingers, he grasped the sketch scrawled on the back of a psychiatric evaluation sheet. Nervous heat travelled up his neck and into his flush face.
The drawing was crude, but its subject was all too familiar. A shadow creature with goat’s legs, emaciated arms, and talon-like hands glared at Ben with hungry, crimson eyes. Its haunting gaze robbed the breath from Ben’s lungs.
A dark theory began to take shape in his mind. If Jeffery saw this and now, I’ve seen it . . . who else has this creature tormented.
Ben’s eyes darted about the room. His mind was abuzz with every name he could associate with the infamous Horwell Heart Attack Club. Jumping to his feet, the employee scoured every box for familiar names.
Mark Atwood, Gene Collins, Rebecca Mobley, Todd Sizer. Every employee file had a variation of the same drawing. However, it was the Elizabeth Cunningham’s file that unraveled the disturbing truth.
A sheet of handwritten notes fell from the file. When Ben grabbed the sheet for further inspection, his stomach churned. The origin of the Horwell Heart Attack Club became clear.
Subject is a single parent with two young children. The threat of termination coupled with the beast’s torment seems to have sufficiently increased stress to a level ripe for consumption. She’s agreed to stay late each night to ensure she can continue to provide for her family. I will make accommodations to ensure the office is empty for the sacrifice. – Debra Conner.
Ben’s jaw clenched as his hands balled into fists. He knew the responsibility was his to end Horwell’s vicious cycle. Within him was a weapon none of the others had possessed . . . an unquenchable flame that darkness could never extinguish.
Chapter 10: The Glutton’s Demands
Incredulous eyes leered at Stan from every direction. “I-I don’t understand,” he stammered. “We’ve performed dozens of sacrifices, why would this one be any different?”
Edward’s lips pursed. “We don’t know. All we know is that we have to make this right . . . now.”
Flashes of Debra’s demise sped through Stan’s mind. Bile surged in his throat as he recalled the gruesome sound of her bones crunching as the beast brutalized her. Sweat beaded on his brow for fear that he might suffer the same fate.
“How?” Stan gulped.
Edward’s gaze shifted to Marcia. “It will tell us itself.”
Drawing a deep breath, Marcia closed her eyes and clutched the emerald gem that hung from her necklace. She began muttering in the ancient tongue. With each word the CEO’s assistant’s complexion greyed and black veins rippled across her skin.
Suddenly her eyes shot open. Scarlet irises replaced Marcia’s green ones. The beast was in their midst.
Wheezing breaths heaved from Marcia’s throat. She snarled like an untamed animal. Glowering eyes surveyed the board room with cold hatred.
“I hunger,” the creature hissed.
“We prepared a feast with new flavors,” Edward explained. “You’d grown weary of the old. Is the new not to your taste?”
“The foreign spice was too potent,” the beast growled.
Edward nodded, pursing his lips in contemplation. “Perhaps pairing with a familiar taste might make the feast more palatable. Diminish anger’s sting with fear’s cooling complement.”
“Two sacrifices?” Stan shuddered. “We only prepared Mr. Davis.”
The CEO leered at his newly promoted colleague. Edward stood and strode towards Stan with a hand in his pocket. He put his other hand on his subordinate’s shoulder. “Everyone is afraid.”
A crooked smile slithered across Marcia’s face. “I smell that familiar aroma,” the beast goaded, drawing a deep inhale.
Terror’s icy grip tightened on Stan’s throat. His beady eyes widened in shock. Sweat dripped from his palms as his tongue went bone dry. “You-you can’t . . .” he stammered.
Marcia’s tongue slathered her lips. Hungry eyes longingly studied Stan. “What a feast it shall be!”
Edward’s hand flew from his pocket. A wet rag smothered Stan’s face. Gasping in shock, Stan breathed in a stinging chemical scent. His legs kicked in a futile attempt to flee as his vision blurred. When darkness set in, the last thing Stan heard was the beast’s maniacal cackling.
Chapter 11: Heartburn
A gentle knock startled Ben. He slammed Jeffery’s folder shut and flung it back into the box from whence it came. He gulped down a deep breath to compose himself for Stan’s return.
However, when he turned around, the CFO, Frank Rudolph, was standing in the doorway rather than Stan. A smile that stretched a little too wide accentuated the folds in Frank’s hefty jowls. The feigned pleasantry nauseated Ben.
“How are ya, sport?” Frank boomed.
Ben stood to meet his CFO. “Fine,” he replied.
“I hate to do this to ya,” Frank continued, “but Stan’s a bit incapacitated at the moment. He’ll have to finish your meeting tomorrow.”
“No problem,” Ben shrugged as he studied Frank, speculating his involvement in the employee sacrifices.
Somehow Frank’s smile widened even further. “Great! I’m also gonna have to ask if you can stay late tonight. Quarter close is coming up and we really need to get ahead of the game.”
Debra’s note flared in Ben’s mind. He knew what staying late meant. “Of course,” Ben answered with a wry grin.
Later that evening, Ben stared out the window next to his cubicle. With a clenched jaw and balled fists, he watched the sun descend below the city skyline. A wildfire of righteous anger burned within his chest.
There was a light within Ben that no darkness could extinguish. His gaze shifted to Jeffery’s desk, particularly the cracked picture frame of his wife and twin daughters. The names in Debra’s files seared his mind. How many families had Horwell destroyed with that abomination?
Tonight, it ends.
“Mr. Davis,” a familiar voice announced his presence.
Ben turned to find Edward Horwell. He’d never interacted with his CEO before. However, tonight was no ordinary night.
“Mr. Horwell,” Ben responded.
“I’d like to thank you for your sacrifice,” Edward commended. “What you’ll do here tonight is of great value to this company.”
“Just like Jeffery Rogers?” Ben snarled. “What about Mark Atwood, Gene Collins, Rebecca Mobley, and Todd Sizer? Will my sacrifice be on par with Elizabeth Cunningham’s?”
Edward scoffed. “I haven’t the faintest clue what you mean?”
Ben paced towards his CEO, pointing an accusatory finger in his face. “I saw Debra’s files! I know why that creature haunts me in the dark!”
“The beast’s insatiable hunger demands a high price but provides a bountiful return to the hand that feeds it,” Edward sneered.
“So that’s what this has all been about?” Ben growled through gritted teeth. “You trade the human spirit for a healthy bottom line?”
Edward smirked. “Greed and gluttony are a perfect pairing. Much like anger and fear.”
Muffled squeals joined mechanical squeaking. Frank Rudolph appeared behind Edward. The CFO pushed a wheelchair in the row. Upon closer inspection, Ben recognized a bound and gagged Stan Zucker.
“What are you doing with him?” Ben boomed.
“Your anger’s spice needs diluting,” Edward expounded. “Stan’s fear will balance the beast’s palate ahead of your sacrifice.”
“The spirit within me won’t be extinguished by any darkness,” Ben proclaimed with a scowl.
A sudden chill permeated the office. Icy mist crept up the widows. The lights flickered before switching off. Puffs of foggy breath billowed from the four men.
Familiar wheezing panted behind Ben. The beast’s oppressive presence filled the office like a noxious smog. Yet, in the shadow of death, Ben feared no evil.
I am with you, a comforting voice whispered to Ben amidst the turmoil.
Whirling around, Ben met his adversary once more. Enraged, red eyes burned with hatred in remembrance of their last meeting. Then, the battle began.
A claw swiped at Ben’s head. In a flash, the accountant ducked at the last second. Wisps of his hair fluttered the ground as the creature’s jagged talons grazed Ben’s hairline.
Now, however, the beast was overextended. The follow through of its mighty swing left it exposed. Seizing the opportunity, Ben unleashed his counter.
Lunging forward, Ben buried his shoulder into his adversary’s abdomen. With churning legs, he drove the creature back. A booming crash erupted as the accountant drove the beast into the wall. Shards of cracked dry wall splintered and littered the floor at the thunderous impact.
Despite his valiant rebellion, Ben’s victory was short-lived. The beast shoved him away. Before the accountant could counter, a jagged claw lurched to his collar. Serrated nails dug through his shirt and into his flesh. Streams of blood flowed down Ben’s neck.
Ben’s legs kicked as he was lifted from the floor. His hands fought to pry himself free from the creature’s grip to no avail. He was too weak on his own.
“Fear comes first!” The beast raspy voice decried.
Then there was a sudden heave. A sense of weightlessness overtook Ben. The searing pain of claws digging into his skin was replaced by a helpless soaring feeling.
Air fled the accountant’s lungs when his back bashed into the partition between his and Jeffery’s cubicles. A sharp gasp squealed from Ben’s throat as he crashed back to earth. Waves of pain reverberated through his back and ribs as he watched the creature approach Stan like a lion moments before finishing off a wounded gazelle.
Stan whimpered and pled for his life as the beast drew near. Bony fingers grasped its prey by the ears. The creature pulled Stan close to its grotesque face. The familiar rushing of air brought forth an ebbing, blue light from the depths of Stan’s throat.
Memories of the beast’s torment flashed through Ben’s mind. His co-workers’ faces manifested before him. Father Cabrera’s advice resonated from the heart of his very being. Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it
Summoning his strength, Ben rose to his feet. His fists quaked with righteous wrath. Adrenaline coursing through his veins suppressed his pain. As the beast’s toxic kiss assaulted Stan, Ben charged.
Fixated on his meal, the creature was too consumed to notice the attack. However, Edward Horwell did. The CEO rushed into a defensive posture as Ben launched his assault.
A heavy right hook launched from Ben’s hip. The deafening thwap of knuckles against bone blared through the office. Shards of broken teeth and blood sprayed from Edward’s mouth as his eyes rolled back into his head. He swayed and collapsed.
Ben spun with raised fists towards Frank Rudolph. The CFO backpedaled with a yelp. While he fumbled over himself, his employee struck.
A swift right to the gut had Frank doubled over. In rapid succession a left cross collided with the CFO’s temple. When the last executive dropped, Ben’s attention shifted to the beast.
Glowing light streamed from Ben’s mouth towards the creature’s. There was no time to think. With reckless abandonment, he careened into the fray.
Ben launched himself into Stan. The collision sent his boss sprawling. Stan laid limp on the ground with blue lips and gray skin. Panted breathing signaled life remained within him, but for how long he could survive with a severed spirit remained to be seen.
With part of Stan’s spirit devoured and Ben in his place, the beast was ready to feast on the spirit within Ben. The gluttonous beast’s vacuum was insatiable. Cold, bony fingers latched onto their prey. Glops of rancid saliva dripped onto Ben’s face as the creature leaned close. Its breathing quickened in elation. Unhinging its jaw, the beast’s slender lips opened wide to reveal rows of serrated teeth.
An unseen force wrested Ben’s mouth open. A stream of brilliant flame flowed from his throat. It was as if his spirit was being ripped from his body.
The blazing current flowed down the creature’s throat. Black veins strained from the beast’s neck. Its jaw trembled as it strained to gnash what flowed from Ben’s soul. Soon the embattled light disappeared as it was gulped down the beast’s gullet. Releasing its grip on Ben, the creature howled in triumph.
Ben dropped to the floor. His eyes were wide with terror, but, much to his surprise, he remained alive. It was then that his adversary came to the same conclusion.
Crimson eyes narrowed beneath a furrowed brow. The beast started snorting and shaking its head in irritation. It clawed at its own chest while convulsions rippled through the whole of its being.
Suddenly, a fiery sword burst forth from the beast’s chest. The creature screeched as its flesh sizzled. A waterfall of black blood gushed from the wound. Ben remembered the icy dread that accompanied his tormentor. He knew the creature’s pain must’ve been excruciating when subjected to fire.
In one, swift motion the flaming sword sliced upwards. Agonized squeals intertwined with the gruesome gnashing of bone. The creature seized and gurgled as it was split in two.
A humanoid figure of fire made flesh erupted from the beast’s chest. Two halves of was the terrorizing abomination fell to the floor with a thud. The dismembered creature writhed in agony, still living despite being torn apart.
No words were necessary. Ben gazed upon the glorious being in awe. He innately knew his helper’s identity. He’d been with Ben since the day he came to faith as comforting guide and protector.
The Spirit pointed his blazing sword at the creature. A righteous river of flame consumed the beast. Every fiber of the hideous being was annihilated. Not even a speck of ash remained.
When the beast was gone, The Spirit disappeared. However, Ben knew he wasn’t gone and would always be with him.
Chapter 12: An Eternal Meal
Horwell’s demise was swift and brutal. The beast was gone and the dark magic that held the company together left with it. The stock price plummeted amidst rampant investigations, leaving them at the brink of bankruptcy. After mere months, the end was near.
It was as if the financial regulators’ eyes had been opened anew. With fresh sight, they circled Horwell’s carcass like ravenous vultures. Now, there were only scraps of rotting meat left on the skeleton.
Whatever was to come, Edward would face it alone. Frank Rudolph was hospitalized with a stroke after the failed sacrifice of Ben Davis. Stan Zucker tendered his resignation the following day. Even Marcia, the witch who summoned the beast all those years ago, had disappeared into thin air.
Edward sat in the lonely board room awaiting the killing stroke. A deadpan gaze stared into the sheen, mahogany table. The CEO studied the dark circles under his eyes and the unkempt stubble on his face.
Now I understand what they went through, Edward recalled the employees he’d sacrificed to the beast. Perhaps I can at least take solace that the beast is gone. Now it’s me who’s seasoned to its taste.
Knocking rapped against the door and jolted the CEO from his malaise. Raising his weary eyes, Edward weakly welcomed his demise. “Come in,” he muttered.
A man in a black suit entered and took a seat at the head of the table opposite Edward. Without a word he laid a folder on the table. The regulator adjusted his spectacles and combed his white mustache with his hand before commencing.
“Mr. Horwell, I am Lyle Roth, and I will be reading the formal charges today,” the regulator explained.
“Very well,” Edward submitted.
“Before we begin, I’d like to ask permission to include one of our trainees to sit in on our meeting to assist with notating our discussion,” Lyle requested.
“Fine,” Edward granted.
Lyle turned to the door at his back. “You may join us.”
When the second regulator entered, Edward’s heart dropped. A vengeful scowl crept across his unshorn face. Fingernails dug into his chair’s leather armrests.
“How dare you step into this place,” the CEO growled through gritted teeth.
Ben Davis scoffed at his former employer. “The past few months haven’t been kind to you, Mr. Horwell.”
“I want him out!” Edward boomed.
“You were asked if our trainee could attend the meeting out of courtesy,” Lyle replied without looking up from his folder. “However, Mr. Davis’ insight has been invaluable to our investigation and I’m afraid you’re in no position to negotiate.”
White hot rage bubbled in Edward’s chest. Flares of heat shot up his neck through bulging veins. The CEO leapt from his chair and thrust and accusatory finger towards Ben.
“I will not sit here with the man who ruined my family’s company!” He bellowed.
“And just how did it ruin it?” Ben taunted. “Would you care to tell the regulator the specifics of my involvement?”
“Stan should’ve let you go when he had the chance!” Edward barked.
Ben’s steely blue eyes glared at his former CEO. “I’m just glad to have a hand in tearing you down.”
“You just wait! This isn’t the e-en- . . .”
An abrupt stinging pain shot up Edward’s left arm. Heavy pressure bloomed in his chest. Cold droplets of sweat trickled down his face. Edward clutched his chest as he collapsed.
Lying on the floor, the CEO convulsed. He gasped for air like a fish trapped on land. Edward’s vision darkened from the outside in until there was only black. The Horwell Heart Attack Club had claimed its final victim.
Edward awoke in a pitch-black abyss. A frigid chill wrested all hope and joy from his soul. Only two crimson eyes leered at him. His failure sent the beast back to Hell. Now, he, himself had been doomed alongside it . . . and the beast does not forgive.
Matt is an author represented by Labyrinth Literary Agency. He delves into paranormal, fantasy, sci-fi, and horror. Matt's debut novel, The Shadow Gospels, is currently being pitched to publishers.
He's had several short stories published with Black Hare Press, Spectral Visions Press, The Ansible Magazine, Fantasia Divinity, Blood Song Books, and Eerie River Publishing. As his career progresses, he's always seeking opportunities to expand his resume. Writing is Matt's passion and he hopes to spend his days cultivating captivating stories with impactful messages.
http://twitter.com/MattDLuke