The same two men came towards them now. The Doctor had an armful of schematics rolled up under one arm, his walking stick in the other. His lackey was coming towards them with an uneven mechanical gait. Everything slowed down for Spencer. The world became a ballet in his mind. The men were dangerous, that was obvious. After stopping his sister, he turned gracefully and stepped away from them in long strides, until he felt Trudy’s arm slide out of his grasp. Turning to look, he saw her face was beet red with fury and she marched towards the men with fists clenched. This created an odd and surrealistic stutter in the slow motion reality Spencer was experiencing. It didn’t make sense. It reminded him of when he had the dreams about running through molasses. It normally woke him up, but in this case it didn’t. He paused in his own mind, listening for the tinny tinkle of a music box he normally heard when dreaming.
When he was a child, his mother used to play such a music box to help him sleep. It would play Piano Concerto No. 32 in C major by Jobeart. She would hear him having a nightmare, come into their room, wind it up, and sit and stroke his hair and forehead until he calmed enough to sleep. Trudy was never bothered by nightmares. She slept like a stone. She was a hard one. Spencer realized that she had grown into a determined woman. She wasn’t afraid of anything, whereas he was anxious about many things. She was his strength, and at that moment, his pillar of strength, his rock, was taking a swing at the Hideous Man.
Things of nightmares crept closer, hungry for the flesh and screams of the creatures that fought in front of them. They could feel the presence of the agent of their master, and waited for him to complete the ritual to free the Great One so they may feast.
Spencer paused, waiting for everything to rubber band back into full speed. It didn’t. It was too comical. He didn’t feel the panic he expected. Instead it seemed to take on the feel of a dance that was a bit faster, but fun. Like the ones at social mixers where the women flung their skirts to show ankles, and the men twirled around them in shoes that clicked on the floor with each step, and everyone was red faced and sweating, but smiling, when the dance was finished.
Trudy connected with The Hideous Man’s jaw with a square punch. The man didn’t flinch, though his face contorted like a desert gelatin that had been smacked. His hand moved with determination and easily clutched the throat of his attacker. Trudy’s face lost its look of anger and transformed into surprise as her air was cut off. Spencer heard the click of the music box winding. Wondering at it for a moment, he realized it was coming from The Hideous Man. The whir of gears and clicks of mechanized movement came from the arm that held Trudy.
Lumbering forms lurched closer in the smoke and fog, watching and waiting. Their disfigured faces boasted tentacle appendages that quivered in anticipation of the coming meal. They yearned for the taste of flesh and blood, and chitinous hands clutched the machines, bending the soft metal. Eyes which glowed a dull green watched the tall man, and waited for him to begin the final ritual.
Spencer glided across the space which separated him from the man. He noticed Doctor Terrible had a syringe at ready and was looking for an opening to use it on Trudy. Without slowing, though everything still felt unnaturally slow like practicing a choreographed dance, the younger man came in low between his sister and her attacker, and stood up swiftly, his curled fist connecting with the underside of the Hideous Man’s jaw. The mechanical man’s head snapped back and his hand went into the same pocket Spencer had observed him dipping into three nights ago, the one that held a weapon by the younger man’s guess.
Spencer now stood between the two, and slammed his forearm against the man’s elbow, knocking his grip from Trudy’s throat. She stumbled backwards, gasping. Spencer crouched again, punching once with each fist into the man’s midsection. It was like punching one of the machines in the room, solid metal. Spencer felt something in his right fist break. A gun was clutched in the man’s dirty hand. Spencer sighed as the muzzle flashed. He later swore he saw the bullet and watched as it twisted into his shoulder.
The music in his head now became more like the steam organ music of the calliope at a carnival. The force of the bullet turned him around and threw him backwards. As he hit the ground he saw his sister pirouette above him with a broken switch, and a meter of iron connected with The Hideous Man’s jaw. The man’s scarred head wrenched to the side and he whirled into the shadows and crumpled to the ground. Dark things slithered to the fallen form and began feasting.
Trudy focused on the second man. The Doctor shrunk back, clutching the stolen research he had gathered before encountering the twins as she stepped forward. The thin man turned and fled, coat tails billowing behind him, leaving his companion to his fate. Trudy began to give pursuit, but the pained moan of her little brother stopped her. She knew she had to see to her brother before chasing down the villain. She returned to her sibling, dragging him out a side door and into the morning light as he gibbered about shadows with teeth that crept from his mind and dreams to devour them all.
Dark things rose in the shadows of the now quiet laboratory. They gathered around the fallen man and began their first meal of many to come.