Chapter 67: "Dad, you came."

The tentacles came down.

Zarek moved before they struck. He threw himself to the side as several thick strands smashed into the floor, sending chunks of concrete flying across the corridor.

One struck close enough to catch his leg, but he twisted free before it could wrap around him.

The old man wasn’t as fortunate. His injured ribs slowed him, and the first tentacle swept across his shoulder, knocking him against the wall.

"ARGH!"

He staggered, nearly dropping the metal rod. Before he could regain his balance, another strand came at his head.

He ducked beneath it, felt the air rush past his face, and swung the rod with both hands.

CLANG!

The metal struck the tentacle, but the blow barely changed its direction. The strand curled around the rod and yanked. The old man held on for a moment before its force dragged him forward.

"Shit!"

He released the rod just before the tentacle pulled it away. It vanished beneath the shifting roots, leaving him empty-handed again.

Zarek had no time to look at him. Three smaller strands were already closing around his arms and waist.

He punched the first hard enough to split its dark surface, then caught the second with his left hand and tore it away from his body.

The third wrapped around his forearm.

He pulled, but the tentacle held firm. Its rough surface tightened against his skin, and a sharp pain shot through his wrist as it tried to drag him toward the creature.

Zarek planted his feet and pulled harder.

The strand stretched.

For a moment, neither side moved. Then the section near his hand ruptured, splattering dark fluid across his chest. He threw the broken end aside and charged toward the monster before another could take its place.

"GRRRAAAAAAAAH!"

The creature roared, its ruined mouth opening wide.

The sound filled the corridor, and the roots covering its neck shuddered as if the entire mass were convulsing.

Zarek kept moving.

He had already learned that damaging the tentacles accomplished little.

They recovered too quickly, and there were always more waiting behind them. He needed to reach the central body, but every step forward brought another strand between him and his target.

One swept toward his head. He ducked.

Another came from below. He jumped over it, landed hard, and drove his fist into a smaller strand emerging from the floor. It burst beneath the impact, but the movement left his side exposed.

A thick tentacle struck him across the ribs.

"UGH!"

The blow lifted him off his feet and sent him skidding across the concrete. His back scraped against the floor before he managed to roll onto one knee. Pain spread through his side, making his next breath unpleasantly shallow.

He looked down at the dark fluid smeared across his shirt, then raised his eyes toward the monster.

It hadn’t even needed to move its body to hit him.

The old man appeared to his right, limping away from another sweeping strand. Blood ran from the cut on his cheek, and he kept one arm close to his injured ribs.

Without his gun, he had little chance of stopping the larger tentacles, but he still tried to draw their attention away from Zarek.

"Move!" he shouted.

Zarek rolled as a tentacle crashed down where he had been kneeling. The old man ducked behind a broken section of concrete, but the creature changed its attack before he could escape.

A thinner strand shot through the gap and curled around his ankle.

He stumbled.

"No!"

He grabbed at the floor, trying to stop himself from being dragged. His fingers scraped against the concrete, finding no firm hold as the tentacle pulled him toward the mass of roots.

The old man kicked at it with his free leg. Once, twice. The strand tightened until pain forced a cry from his throat.

"AAARGH!"

Zarek saw him struggling.

For a brief moment, their eyes met across the corridor.

The old man reached toward him, but Zarek didn’t rush blindly into the mass of moving roots. He waited until the tentacle pulling the old man away stretched around a broken pillar, then charged from the side.

His fist struck the exposed section.

The root split with a wet crack.

The old man fell forward, catching himself on both hands. He dragged his injured leg beneath him and scrambled away as the severed strand thrashed behind him.

Zarek stepped over the broken root.

"You’re getting slower."

The old man shot him an incredulous look, his face twisted with pain. "You can complain when we’re out of here!"

"Then stop giving it opportunities."

Zarek turned back toward the creature.

The monster’s head jerked toward him.

"GRRRAAAARRH!"

The roar came out broken, ending in a high, almost human shriek. Its tentacles lashed in every direction, striking the walls and floor with enough force to shake dust from the ceiling.

Zarek advanced anyway.

A strand swept toward his shoulder. He struck it with his fist, forcing it aside, then lunged through the opening. Another tentacle came down in front of him. He changed direction, but a third caught his waist and pulled him sideways.

He seized it with both hands.

His muscles tightened as he tried to wrench it loose. The tentacle dragged him several feet before he managed to brace one foot against the floor. Concrete cracked beneath his boot.

For an instant, he held his ground.

Then two more strands wrapped around his legs.

His footing disappeared.

Zarek hit the floor hard, his shoulder taking most of the impact. He twisted immediately, trying to free his legs before the tentacles could secure themselves.

One strand snapped beneath his heel, but another coiled around his thigh, followed by a third around his other arm.

He pulled until his muscles trembled.

The restraints didn’t break.

"Let go!"

He drove his elbow into the nearest strand. It shuddered but held. Another tightened around his chest, pressing the air from his lungs.

"GRRRAAAAAAAAH!"

The monster’s roar drowned out the sound of his struggle.

Across the corridor, the old man was fighting his own restraints. Two thick tentacles had caught him around the waist and shoulder. He kicked at the floor, twisting his body in an attempt to loosen their grip, but his injured ribs made every movement painful.

"Get these things off me!"

He tried to reach a nearby root and pull himself away. The tentacles dragged him backward instead, lifting him far enough that his boots scraped uselessly across the concrete.

Zarek watched him for a second, then returned his attention to his own restraints.

He could still move his right hand. He curled his fingers around the tentacle crossing his chest and pulled with everything he had.

The strand stretched slightly.

That was all.

Another wrapped around his wrist and forced his hand away. The pressure increased until his fingers began to numb. He struck at it with his free arm, but the blow lacked the leverage to do much damage.

The creature was learning how he fought, or perhaps it had never needed to care. It had more tentacles than either man could count, and every time one was damaged, another took its place.

Zarek’s legs were pulled apart and pinned. A thick strand wound around his torso, while smaller ones secured his arms. He strained against them, jaw clenched, refusing to waste strength on pointless screaming.

The old man was hauled closer to the creature’s central body.

"NO! LET ME GO!"

His voice cracked as he fought the pull. He twisted hard enough to worsen the pain in his ribs, then let out a muffled groan when the tentacles tightened around him.

Neither man could reach the other now.

The tentacles holding Zarek remained tight, but the others gradually withdrew from the walls and floor. The sudden stillness was so unexpected that he almost mistook it for an opening.

He began to shift his right arm.

A low sound came from the monster.

"Hnnnngh..."

Zarek froze.

It wasn’t another roar. The sound was weak and muffled, as though someone were trying to speak through a mouth that could barely move. It came from the creature’s central body, beneath the thick roots covering its chest.

The old man stopped struggling, too.

The creature’s head lowered slightly.

Then a voice emerged from its ruined throat, rough and barely recognizable beneath the distortion.

"Dad, you came."

The old man’s expression remained strained for a moment. Then the tentacles holding him loosened, lowering him carefully to the floor.

He straightened slowly, one hand resting against his injured ribs. His gaze shifted toward Zarek, who remained bound and unaware of what the words meant.

A smile crept across the old man’s face.