STILLETTO EYE & RAZORGUT by DWAYNE COLTRANE & THE HYPERDEATHPSYCHOROCK 3

Chapter 7 - STILLETTO EYE & RAZORGUT AND THE UNDERGROUND UNDEAD

Behind the sleigh dogs pulling all manner of climbing, drilling and camping equipment and provisions and a slow shambling expedition of men huddled into their fur jackets and face masks against the blistering and icy wind, StilletoEye and RazorGut cruised gently along in Betsy, their 55 Cadillac, Louis Jordan on the stereo, milkshakes and cheeseburgers in hand.

Up ahead, they saw what they were looking for, a huge hole, about 2 miles wide, exactly over the magnetic pole. The snow and icy hurled around it in eddies and was constantly being sucked down as if into some vast aerial whirlpool. The men hurriedly dug into a trench to escape the worst of it, drew straws, and sent an unlucky sod into the vortex to scout out the hole.

After about half an hour he hurried back and excitedly motioned for the expedition to follow him. Onwards they went, the maelstrom lashing them, the dogs, the equipment, and Betsy. When they came to the mouth of the hole, all was utterly calm and still and a gentle ramp, wide enough for all, corkscrewed its way around the cliff wall; they followed it down.

As they descended further, the air became warmer and warmer until it was uncomfortably hot and their compasses spun wildly. After a day’s descent, the path flattened out and wove its way into a huge cave mouth. The men lit torches, and StilletoEye and RazorGut turned up Betsy’s headlights, and followed the road in.

They need not have bothered with the lights; through the cave, they found themselves faced with a large town: several houses, what looked like a school building, a water tower, windmills spinning in the subterranean wind, a network of roads carved with jeep tracks, several fields of crops….from every building flew a large red flag imposing a swastika. The men gasped, crossing themselves and screaming prayers, but the town seemed deserted. With extreme reluctance, they set up camp refusing to, as some had suggested, sleeping in the abandoned houses. But this being done, StilletoEye and RazorGut went off to explore.

Although they’d all thought it a ghost town, as StilletoEye and RazorGut saw into more and more of the houses, they began to doubt that. In several roared huge log fires, in others tables were neatly set and books lay open next to leather sofas still warm. When they went into what they’d taken for a schoolhouse, it turned out to be a huge shower complex, with scratch marks all over the walls. As they roamed the streets, unnerved by the ever-present swastikas, they heard a rumbling and a commotion. From a cave mouth opposite where they had set up camp, the inhabitants of the town returned.

Led by jeeps and tanks, it was a terrifying convoy dragging behind them a slain woolly mammoth, their regimented steps echoed around the cavern. As they got closer, StilletoEye and RazorGut saw that there was something not quite right about them: their flesh was all rotting and crumbling away, although their march was unaffected by their rotting bodies.
There was a horrific cry as they saw the expedition cowering at their camp, and swept with inhuman speed down upon the petrified men and their dogs, and tore them apart. StilletoEye and RazorGut watched helplessly as the men were churned into a fountain of gore.

Thankfully, they didn’t even touch Betsy, being only interested in the meat, and as they retired back to their village, StilletoEye and RazorGut crept round the outside of town and eased themselves into Betsy, and as slowly as they dared, drove back out the way they’d came.