Some say that rain plays an indispensable role not only for the ecosystem but for the soul. The rain represents hope in times of drought, it is the symbol of the cleansing brought from the skies. Regardless of what society and science think about it, Stu was extremely uncomfortable inside the car as a fine drizzle outside made the night even more hazy. He stared at the drops running lazily down the glass and took a deep breath, gripped the handle of his burnt brown leather briefcase, and opened the door.

- I'll be waiting here Mr. Smith - said the driver, a goat with black fur and short horns.

Stu didn't answer him, didn't want to be rude despite his discomfort increasing when he felt the drips on his snout.

The car was parked at the entrance to the docks. He slammed the door behind him and walked over to the two figures standing by the entrance gate. The largest lit up his face as he light the cigarette, revealing his black-stained eyes and white fur before it was again hidden in the low light.

- Good night, Stu - greeted the second, not much bigger than him, with a British accent.

- Hello - said the fox as he approached, looking in the pockets of his overcoat for a bottle of painkillers, because his head was already starting to hurt. - As I was late, I came straight and didn't talk to Winston, what do we have to solve here?

– Looks like a suspicious ship is stranded in the harbor. - Said the larger figure approaching and taking shape with the light of the nearby light pole. His name was Peter, a panda with almost two meters tall and strong in structure. He carried a baseball bat over his right shoulder. His face had some flaws in the fur, mainly near his right eye due to scars. - It's on Nikolas Blunt's private dock. But no movement in the last 3 days.

- Some sailors found it strange and went to investigate - said with accent the smaller figure that also approached. An owl with its hands in the pocket of its tailored pants and a dark overcoat. He was known as Harry - But they called the police when they heard frightening screams. They think it´s haunted.

Stu opened the bottle of painkillers and chewed three pills while listening to his colleagues. The bitter taste brought comfort before he even finished swallowing, his pain was getting better despite the irritation from the drizzle still being present. The three walked down the street and passed the gate without difficulty. Staten Island was neutral territory in New York, there was no reason for a lookout in the abandoned guardhouse. They followed the docks along the seafront with ships of all sizes and freighters, until they saw a large, metallic fishing boat in front of them. The silence and the poor lighting of the streetlamps gave the place a ghostly air, like something out of a Lovecraft tale.

The silent craft floated on the black water. Peter approached throwing his cigarette on the floor being followed soon by Stu and Harry. A ramp connected the ship to the dock, which raised suspicion among the three investigators. There was no doubt that they would soon have company. Stu pulled out his magnum and started up the ramp. His footsteps made the wood creak. Upon reaching the deck, he assured that he was alone, sniffing the air before signaling to his colleagues to follow him. They split up and searched the entire deck, where they found nothing but some fishing nets and old rope. As Harry watched the ship's control room, Peter and Stu approached the trapdoor that led to the lower deck of the boat.

The iron door was closed, but not locked. Stu laid his chest against the icy metal and again sniffed for traces of others, to no avail. Harry soon joined them, making a gesture with his hands that indicated that there was nothing interesting. The fox knelt by the door and slowly opened it while the owl readied its weapon and Peter squeezed Lady Luck's hilt between his fingers, but nothing jumped out to surprise them. The panda cocked its head and looked down the path, dark and silent as a tomb. They descended the stairs and entered the room dimly lit by the streetlights that shone through the tiny windows. The place was wide and empty, containing a single door at the far end. Peter and Stu approached cautiously and then stopped when the fox raised the magnum, ordering them to stand still.

Stu could distinguish the scent of two people. The panda and the fox each stopped on either side of the door hoping that whoever it was would soon appear. They could hear footsteps in the distance but it didn't seem to be approaching. Harry, standing near the stairs, hid in the shadows and with a glance at his colleagues slammed the barrel of the gun against the metal wall. The footsteps that seemed to go away stopped and soon they could hear a whisper. Peter was already raising the club above his head, ready to smash the brains out of the unfortunate who passed by when a flash lit up the room and Harry fell to the floor with the excruciating pain in his left shoulder.

The fox aimed the gun through the door in the dark and fired, followed by a squeal of pain from the enemy. They could hear footsteps, they approached running and as soon as they were close enough it was time for Lady Luck to make her attack hitting the second one and making him fall to the ground. The first was still cursing as Stu pulled both of them into the light. There were two young raccoons, both wearing shabby coats. As soon as he dropped them in the middle of the room, Peter tied the unconscious with an old rope while Stu went to tend to Harry's injuries. The owl was lucky, the shot grazed the left shoulder avoiding any vital structure. Stu gave Harry some of his painkillers as he opened the case and bandaged the wound to stop the bleeding.

- Motherfucker, my arm! - cursed the raccoon lying on the ground, crouching protecting his bleeding arm.

- You shot first - said Peter calmly lighting a cigarette - It was self-defense

- Fuck you - the raccoon spat and then fell silent when the panda's foot hit him in the stomach.

- Who are you here for? - Asked the panda, taking a drag on his cigarette and putting the baseball bat over his shoulder again. The raccoon didn't respond, it just spat and that was enough for Peter to step on his injured arm leading to a scream of pain. - Better talk soon partner, I don't have all night.

Stu and Harry approached, the latter was silent and looked at the young man who was squirming under the panda's boot with pure contempt. It wasn't the pain in his arm that irritated him, but the knowledge that his beautiful body was hurt. Would you have a scar? The idea tingled in his mind and soon he felt the blood boil in his hands. He took the gun and stuck it into the boy's mouth. Stu and Peter recognized the gleam in the owl's eyes. The panda backed away and took another drag on his cigarette while the fox took more pills into his mouth. The Raccoon realized he was doomed but it was too late. Blood and brain matter spattered the metal. Harry hated to admit it, but it made him feel a little better despite the searing pain in his shoulder.

Stu approached the one who was unconscious and slapped him in the face until he woke up. The raccoon took a while, but it opened its confused eyes. As soon as he noticed the red face of the fox in front of him, he tried to free himself, without success. He saw the body of his colleague dead on the floor and his eyes filled with tears.

- Son of a bitch, you killed my brother! - He whimpered.

And that's when the three realized they were just kids. Guilt seized Harry's chest for a moment and he pulled away pretending to look out the window. Peter knelt beside the boy blocking his view of the deceased.

- Why don't you be smarter than your brother and tell us who you work for, boy? - He said in a gentle tone despite the serious look. The raccoon sobbed a little and with a shaky voice replied.

- Bow... Bowery... for the Bowery Boys... - he stammered - I was just watching the ship, sir.

- What has this abandoned ship that your boss told you to stay here? - asked the fox.

- I don't know… my brother and I were responsible for watching… The ship is empty, there's nothing. - He sobbed, his nose already running. - If you're going to let me go, you'd better kill me soon… Mr. Simmons has already eaten my whole family… and now without Ben I'll be eaten too.

The investigators looked at each other in some surprise. They knew who the young man was referring to. William J. Simmons, the leader of the Bowery Boys, an ultra nationalist eagle who controlled the borough of Manhattan. Like any other crime boss he was feared and respected, he had great political influence in the city, and even members of Congress were said to owe him favors. However, the history of “eating” members of his own gang was something that even for him would cross the line of reason. Eating meat was taboo among humans and beasts alike, even more so after the war. Carnivores were frowned upon and judged by the possibility of succumbing to the desire for cannibalism.

- Put him to sleep Peter and let's walk - Harry said walking towards the door.

The raccoon's teary eyes stared at the panda in silence. Peter knocked him out and went after the other two.

***⚓***

Helen opened her eyes and felt her body aching. It was dark and when she tried to stretch he realized he couldn't, he was in a tight space. Then he remembered the box and the boat. “How long was it?” she thought. He listened to the sounds, trying to identify any noise, but the grave silence remained. Slowly he pushed back the lid and looked around. The low light allowed to see some crates on the floor. He came out of his hiding place cautiously for fear her own breathing would catch the attention of whoever was lurking in the shadows.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

The ship's once-crowded hold was practically empty except for the box she was in and a few smaller ones scattered around. She went to one of the windows and tried to identify her whereabouts, but the darkness was thick and she could only see the pearly glow of the sea. She looked for the stairs that led to the deck and only then realized it didn't exist. A strange feeling of doubt and anxiety took over her chest. Helen was sure there was a ladder there when he entered, but all he could identify was a door in the far wall. The girl walked over to it and opened it to reveal a long corridor of metal walls and lit by electric lights. Her mind was confused again, as she was sure the ship wasn't big enough to have a long corridor like that. She was at the end of the narrow path that went straight to the right. Swallowed hard, trying to calm the frantic beating of his own chest. Reached down to the waistband of her pants and picked up the small, rusty gun and held it close to her body with one hand. She followed the hallway with slow steps, running her free hand over the metal wall, watching for any sign of life beyond it.

She reached the next door and listened for something on the other side. It was entirely metal with a circular lever in the center. After seconds without anything raising her suspicions, decided to proceed. Helen turned the lever with some difficulty, making a loud creak. The next gallery made her hold her breath for a moment. She expected metal walls or a new dimly lit room, but what she found looked more like a hospital hallway, with white brick walls and tiled floors, wooden doors that were glazed and numbered. The girl glanced back and saw the metallic corridor of the ship before looking again at the path ahead. Her confused mind was seething with intrigue trying to understand the logic. Maybe she was on some hallucinogenic drug or it was just a dream. Pinched her own arm until the pain made her wrinkle her nose in hopes of waking up or realizing that this was real.

Helen took a step forward and watched the details slowly. Before she reached the first numbered wooden door, she heard a shrill sound, coming from all sides, causing her heart to forget what it was like to pump blood. A metallic, arrhythmic noise mixed with what she might have imagined was a dark melody. Involuntarily the voice broke her lips, expressing the horror that filled her chest in a panicked scream before her instincts made her run. With each step, the lights behind her went out faster and faster as if the darkness itself were her tormentor. The path seemed endless, taking a turn to the right and when she did, she ran into a double wooden door. She pushed it and, clumsy in her race for her life, she fell to the cold floor.

The terrible sound ceased the moment the girl´s body hit the floor. Helen slowly rose to her knees and watched where she was. It was a large and bright room, everything was extremely white and clean, there were no windows, panes of glass flashed on the walls with luminous writing in red blue. In the center of the room appeared to be an operating table was suspended from a metal arm attached to the ceiling. She approached it and could see that, unlike the rest of the room, it was smeared with stains of something dark red. Ran her fingers over the metal and smelled. Blood, the girl thought, and again her heart sped up.

Still on the table were some similarly stained papers. She tried to read them but the dried blood didn't let her extract much. There was also a small amber glass bottle next to the papers. She brought it closer to her eyes and saw that on its label she could read, despite the wear and tear of the letters, “Arsenic” and, curious, she kept it in her pants pocket.

She approached one of the walls and observed the glass that magically flashed words formed by lights. Helen had never seen glass capable of producing words. But the writing that was revealed there did not seem to be in any language she knew. She realized that there was, however, a pattern. First, symbols in blue flashed in sequence until letters written in red glowed for a few seconds.

FACE

Helen noticed that a door concealed amid the white walls and floors, making itself noticeable only by the round silver handle. If it hadn't been for the doorknob, she probably wouldn't have noticed that there was a passage there. Again she listened for any sound, but nothing came out. He turned the knob and pushed open the door.

***🚪***

Peter soon caught up with his colleagues and they went down a narrow hallway in single file. The walls to the left were littered with rusty, salt-weathered-looking pipes. Leading the way was Stu, who, still with his gun in his hand and his leather case clutched in his other hand, was sniffing the air as Harry tightened the bandaged wound. At the end they found a metal door with a circular lever in the center. Stu sniffed the metal but could only smell the raccoons and the fresh owl blood. He turned the lever and pushed the door open, revealing a dimly lit, brick-walled gallery. It was wide enough for the three of them to walk side by side, the floor was dirty concrete, and the walls looked like they had black mold. The smell of the sea air was intoxicating. The bad lighting came from hanging lamps a few steps away from each other. As Peter walked through the door with his cigarette between his teeth, he looked at the other two in confusion.

- What the hell is that? - he exclaimed looking at the metallic corridor of the ship behind him before turning his attention to the gallery.

Harry approached the wall, analyzing the growing mold. Stu shook his head, covering his snout for a moment. The place smelled terrible to his sensitive nose. The panda stubbed out his cigarette on the masonry and took a few steps forward.

- Perhaps we should inform the office about this - began Harry. - Clearly something is…

A high-pitched sound filled the gallery, interrupting his speech. It sounded like a distorted and out of tune melody with metallic beats that caused an immediate discomfort to the three investigators. Not just from the fright, but something about that sound sent their minds into deep, primal terror. The melody only lasted a few seconds, and once again, given over to silence, Stu opened the bottle of painkillers and chewed a handful of them. Peter took out a new cigarette and had difficulty lighting it due to the uncontrollable shaking of his hands as he handled the lighter. Harry felt a wave of searing pain in his arm and squeezed it tightly, feeling the cold sweat trickle down his beak. A scream echoed in the distance in the gallery.

- As much as I want to get out of this place - began the fox breaking the silence as he straightened his suitcase. - We still have to figure out what the fuck this is.

- Let's settle this soon - said the panda with smoke coming out of his nostrils.

They went on in silence. They walked for a few minutes until they finally came to a large, old-looking metal door with damp-eaten hinges. At first it felt stuck and Stu had to force it open. The next space was wider than the previous one. The heavy musty smell was gone and the walls were now weathered with paint. It was a room with several cells with metal bars, one next to the other that in a row formed a long corridor, the ceiling high and the lighting precarious.

They observed the first cubicles, which, like what the place itself looked like, had been abandoned for a long time. The cells contained a concrete dais along one of the walls and a sink. The investigators split up to search the place until Stu broke the silence by returning to the hallway, clearly annoyed.

- There were humans here - He said with the hairs on the back of his neck standing up and went to the next cubicle - Humans and animals, together in cells?! - he foamed.

- Humans? Are you sure that old nose of yours isn't messed up? - Asked Peter in disbelief - There are no humans on this continent for years.

- Do you think I'd forget the shit smell these cretins have?! - The fox swayed, putting his hand to his head, which was hurting again.

-Take a look at this.- He called out to Harry in one of the cells and the other two went to him. On the wall, painted with what appeared to be dark, old paint was written

Sometimes it's torture, the sound is torture,

it seems we don't speak the same language

Stu walked over and ran his finger against the ink and sniffed it, it was human blood. In some of the prisons there were other similar writings, some with human blood and others written with animal blood. They also found cutlery, metal plates and torn clothes. At the end of the hall again was a metal door, and above it was written in letters drawn in a dark, faded dye:

I never knew much about people

until I took one apart

to see how it worked

It is undeniable to say that the sentence itself was already somewhat disturbing, and the three looked at each other with clear annoyance. The war seemed distant, but still very much alive within each one. Even those who didn't go to the trenches heard stories and, even though they were largely regarded as legends, knew that much of what was reported could be real. It wasn't just the night raids, famine, bloodshed and gunpowder curtains that filled the history books. Accounts of cannibalism, experiments, and the occult brought a certain air of terror and mysticism to the conflict.

Peter stepped forward and gripped the handle firmly. He was already tired of the whole place, his cigarettes were at an end and after his last job the night before, he wanted a shower and sleep. He turned the knob and pulled the door open.

*** 🚪***

She was no more than five feet tall, with long, oval ears, and her fur grimy and unkempt. The red eyes stared at the panda, initially with the same surprised expression as he did, but soon took on a glint of panic and horror. The tattered rabbit let go of the door handle and shivered back into the room. The red-furred fox appeared just behind the bear.

- Stay there! - She shouted, staring at the panda and as soon as she saw the fox she took out the gun.

The subtle click made Peter raise his hands, demonstrating that he did not pose any danger. The girl was clearly upset. She had wounds on her arms and legs, her clothes were torn and she looked sick. The room smelled of excrement and blood. It was a small room, with a metal chair in the center, close to where the girl was standing, with chains and bindings.

- Calm down there bunny, we didn't come to hurt you - said Peter entering the room slowly. She was shaking from head to toe and being in that place he couldn't help but feel sorry for her. - You'll end up hurting someone like that.

- I told you to stop! - She said through gritted teeth. The gun felt heavy in her hands and she was tired. Hearing the word “bunny” irritated her deeply. - Let me through.

Harry, standing in the doorway, watched silently, lowered his hand from the wound and, like Peter, tried to approach her slowly. She backed up again and bumped into the chair, which made her realize where she was. It was no longer the white room with the blinking glass, it was a dirty, fetid place with stone walls and no windows. The girl looked at the chair behind, smeared with blood and urine, with heavy shackles. Her confused mind tried to look for a logical explanation for it all. She felt pain and despair take over his chest, wished she were home and wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

- My name is Harry, we are investigators - began the owl in a gentle and low tone, interrupting the chaos of thoughts and making her look again at the three - we heard a scream earlier, was it you?

She felt tired, the gun seemed to weigh even more between her fingers. She nodded and the gun lowered slightly. She felt her eyes fill with tears, making her vision difficult for a moment.

- I just want to go home - she said, sitting down in the chair.