#53
Jason stared around the club in astonishment. He’d been trying for nearly a year to get in. He’d never seen a line at the door, but when he’d tried to enter, he’d found his way barred by one of the largest bouncers he’d ever seen. The guy had arms like tree stumps, circled with leather bands. The bands looked ready to pop if he flexed too hard.
Each time, Jason tried to get a glimpse inside. Each time he changed his hairstyle, his dress, his attitude. Each time he was turned away without a word. No explanation. No sign of who had been admitted. He’d even camped out across the street in his van and watched the door on a Friday night. No one entered the door while he watched, yet when he finally couldn’t stand it and tried himself, the same over-muscled behemoth blocked his way.
Now he was in. He wore tight leather pants and a leather vest with no shirt. His arms were ringed in leather, like the bouncer’s, though it had sadly taken a lot less leather to circle both his arms than it had to wrap one bicep on the big man. Jason’s hair was spiked like some sort of crazed sea urchin, and each spike glistened with sparkling gel in a different hue.
Now that he stood inside, he didn’t know what to do. There was a raised stage littered with instruments on stands. A drum set glittered with chrome in the background. The lights were down low, and couples sat at tables surrounding a tiered dance floor, lower in the center than on either end.
Couples sat at tables surrounding the dance floor. They wore evening dress, the women in floor length gowns. He felt like a circus clown standing dumbly in the door, and he nearly turned and bolted. Then a smiling young woman in a glittering gown was at his side, smiling, and leading him inside. She took him past the dance floor to the bar, where he found a tall cold glass of beer waiting for him.
“Have a seat,” the girl said, smiling. “We’re glad to see you finally made it.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. “You knew I was trying to get in? Who…”
She held a finger to her lips and winked. Then she was gone, and he stood alone at the bar, sipping beer and watching the room. A moment later, the lights dimmed, then flashed brightly. The stage lit up like an insane Christmas display, and he saw that the musicians had slipped into place while he wasn’t watching. They were dressed in identical black suits. Their hair was combed perfectly. When the front man too the mic stand in hand, he flashed a smile at Jason with teeth so white they glowed blue in the radiance of a black-light bulb shining above the stage.
Jason took a gulp of beer. It was getting kind of hot, and he’d begun to sweat. He couldn’t understand how all the others were sitting so comfortably in three piece suits, or how the band could stand to be under the glare of all those bulbs. He drained his glass and looked around for a bartender. There was no one in sight.
There was a grinding scrape of static and feedback, and the band plunged into the first song. Jason gaped openly. The guitarist was like lightning, the drums pounded so heavily that they shook the room. When the vocalist began, Jason couldn’t make out a word of the rough, gravelly chant. It seemed at times he could catch a word here or there, but at other moments he was sure it was a foreign language. The volume was so high he felt the notes ripple through the hair on his arms.
One by one the tables cleared as the couples hit the dance floor. They started slowly, but soon caught the rhythm. Despite their dress, they whirled and leaped, ricocheting across the floor like pin balls caught in a giant, insane world of light and sound.
The girl appeared at his shoulder again, and she took him by the arm, drawing him toward the dance floor. The others danced on the upper levels of the floor, but she took him down one step, then the next. Her eyes were deep and black, and her dress was slinky and tight. He couldn’t figure out what made it glitter as it did. He’d thought it was covered in sequins, but it was so fluid.
They reached the bottom level of the dance floor, and the girl raised her hands over her head. She started to whirl in circles, catching the beat from the drums and matching it with her hips. Jason tried to follow the motion, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. He wished he’d had time for another beer. It was even hotter down in that pit – that’s what it seemed to be – a mosh pit of some sort. The air was thick and hard to breathe. He danced, following her around the smaller floor, but his throat was parched, and in moments he felt like he might pass out if he didn’t get a drink.
He reached out toward the girl, meaning to grab her arm, or her shoulder and stop her, and something bit into his hand. He drew back sharply, and watched in fascinated horror as droplets of blood arched from twin slices in the palm of his hand. He stepped forward again, and she whirled closer. Her dress lifted up and away from her body, and he saw – too late – that it was woven of blades. Razor sharp discs bit into his chest and arms, and he backed away, flailing his arms. Blood flowed freely from the cuts and drained onto the floor.
Jason turned and staggered toward the steps leading to the next level. They were lined with dancers. There was no way out. He tried to push through them, but they gripped him, leaning in with quick, darting motions – some pressing him back into the pit, others licking and sniffing at the cuts on his arms. As he backed into the pit, he felt the blades again – slicing his back. Those in front of him moved into the pit slowly, like a dark wave. Their eyes were too bright…their teeth too white, and too long.
The band kicked into overdrive, and as Jason screamed, they poured in over and around him, reaching, grabbing, slicing and tearing at his clothing and his flesh. His legs grew weak, and they pressed in closer, driving him back and down until he knelt in the center of the pit, pummeled and pounded, held upright by the moving ocean of flesh. His mind began to slip away, and at that moment, the woman stepped closer. She simultaneously slipped something between his lips and licked the blood from his cheeks…pressing herself against him. He swallowed without thinking, and the room went dark.
* * *
He woke in the hall outside. The first thing he noticed was how cold he felt. He stood, staring at himself and shaking convulsively. There was no blood. He glanced up, and the big man stood where he’d always stood, arms crossed. Jason took a step closer, but the bouncer shook his head.
“But…” the question died on his lips. The bouncer watched him back away, and turn. Just before he broke and ran…Jason was certain he saw the big man wink.
Written by David Niall Wilson - Visit WebsiteFollow me on Twitter
