Splintered: The Labyrinth, Book 3, page 1
SPLINTERED
THE LABYRINTH
BOOK 3
BRIAN KEENE
PRAISE FOR BRIAN KEENE
“A virtuoso writer. A true master of the genre.”
FANGORIA
“Try Darkness On the Edge of Town by Brian Keene. Excellent short horror novel.”
STEPHEN KING
“The enormity of Keene’s pulp horror imagination, and his success in bringing the reader over the top with him, is both rare and wonderful.”
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
“The Complex is a full-throttle action ride… a beautifully developed character study filtered through the lens of viscera and violence.”
NIGHT WORMS
“The man made a huge name for himself with the publication of his first novel, the zombie epic The Rising. This was one of those books that everyone was talking about, and… it actually lived up to the hype… with some incredibly fresh new elements and great characters… a fantastic debut”
DREAD CENTRAL
“The Last Zombie is an intense tale about humanity's fate post-zombie apocalypse and exemplifies Keene's taste for darker, action-oriented tales.”
BLEEDING COOL
“Brian Keene writes the best sort of horror — human, honest, and terrifying.”
CHRISTOPHER GOLDEN
“For over two decades, Brian Keene has given fans stories filled with zombies, massive man-eating earthworms, an occult detective, a well-meaning serial killer, and numerous other tales of horror, dark fantasy and crime fiction.”
BLOODY DISGUSTING
“Brian Keene is a cornerstone of the horror community…”
ESQUIRE
“End of the Road is one of the very best books about the life of a writer that I have ever read.”
KIT POWER
“Brian Keene writes like a force of nature.”
F. PAUL WILSON
“If Brian Keene’s books were music, they would occupy a working-class, hard-earned space between Bruce Springsteen, Eminem, and Johnny Cash.”
JOHN SKIPP
“Brian Keene revels in… blunt and visceral descriptions.”
THE NEW YORK TIMES
“Dark Hollow is another frightening entry in Brian Keene's impressive arsenal. The book deftly combines emotional terror and grisly gore with Keene's immensely readable prose to create a gripping novel sure to please longtime fans and new readers alike. ”
DARK SCRIBE MAGAZINE
“The Rising is gruesome fun!.”
JACK KETCHUM
ALSO BY BRIAN KEENE
NON-SERIES:
Alone ~ An Occurrence in Crazy Bear Valley ~ The Cage ~ Castaways ~ The Complex ~ The Damned Highway (with Nick Mamatas) ~ Darkness On the Edge of Town ~ Dead Sea ~ Dissonant Harmonies (with Bev Vincent) ~ Entombed ~ Ghoul ~ The Girl on the Glider ~ Island of the Dead ~ Jack’s Magic Beans ~ Kill Whitey ~ Monsters of Saipan (with Weston Ochse) ~ Nemesai (with John Urbancik) ~ Pressure ~ School’s Out ~ Scratch ~ Shades (with Geoff Cooper) ~ Silverwood: The Door (with Richard Chizmar, Stephen Kozeniewski, Michelle Garza and Melissa Lason) ~ Sixty-Five Stirrup Iron Road (with Edward Lee, Jack Ketchum, J.F. Gonzalez, Bryan Smith, Wrath James White, Nate Southard, Ryan Harding, and Shane McKenzie) ~ Take the Long Way Home ~ Tequila’s Sunrise ~ Terminal ~ Thor: Metal Gods (with Aaron Stewart-Ahn, Yoon Ha Lee and Jay Edidin) ~ White Fire ~ With Teeth
THE RISING SERIES:
The Rising ~ City of the Dead ~ The Rising: Selected Scenes From the End of the World ~ The Rising: Deliverance
THE EARTHWORM GODS SERIES:
Earthworm Gods (also published as The Conqueror Worms) ~ Earthworm Gods II: Deluge ~ Earthworm Gods: Selected Scenes From the End of the World
THE LEVI STOLTZFUS SERIES:
Dark Hollow ~ Ghost Walk ~ A Gathering of Crows ~ Last of the Albatwitches ~ Invisible Monsters
THE LABYRINTH SERIES:
The Seven ~ Submerged ~ Splintered
THE CLICKERS SERIES (with J.F. Gonzalez):
Clickers II: The Next Wave ~ Clickers III: Dagon Rising ~ Clickers vs. Zombies
THE LOST LEVEL SERIES:
The Lost Level ~ Return To the Lost Level ~ Hole In the World ~ Beneath the Lost Level
THE ROGAN SERIES (with Steven L. Shrewsbury):
King of the Bastards ~ Throne of the Bastards ~ Curse of the Bastards
THE GOTHIC SERIES:
Urban Gothic ~ Suburban Gothic (with Bryan Smith)
NON-FICTION:
End of the Road ~ The Triangle of Belief ~ Trigger Warnings ~ Unsafe Spaces ~ Other Words ~ Sundancing ~ Love and Hate In The Time of Covid ~ Sympathy For the Devil: The Best of Hail Saten Vol. 1 ~ Running With the Devil: The Best of Hail Saten Vol. 2 ~ The New Fear: The Best of Hail Saten Vol. 3 ~ Leader of the Banned: The Best of Hail Saten Vol. 4
SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS:
Blood on the Page: The Complete Short Fiction, Vol. 1 ~ All Dark, All the Time: The Complete Short Fiction, Vol. 2 ~ Love Letters From A Nihilist: The Complete Short Fiction, Vol 3 ~ Where We Live and Die ~ A Little Silver Book of Streetwise Stories ~ 4X4 (with Geoff Cooper, Michael Oliveri, and Michael T. Huyck Jr.) ~ No Rest For The Wicked ~ No Rest At All ~ Fear of Gravity ~ Unhappy Endings ~ A Conspiracy of One ~ The Cruelty of Autumn ~ Good Things For Bad People ~ A Little Sorrowed Talk ~ Stories For the Next Pandemic ~ Things Left Behind (with Mary SanGiovanni)
GRAPHIC NOVELS:
The Last Zombie: Dead New World ~ The Last Zombie: Inferno ~ The Last Zombie: Neverland ~ The Last Zombie: Before the After ~ The Last Zombie: The End ~ Dead of Night: Devil-Slayer ~ He-Man and the Masters of the Universe: Origins of Eternia ~ A Very DC Halloween ~ DC House of Horror ~ Gwendy’s Button Box ~ The Fallen
MISCELLANY:
A Field Guide To the Thirteen (with Mark Sylva) ~ Apocrypha ~ Liber Nigrum Scientia Secreta (with J.F. Gonzalez) ~ Terminal: The Play (with Roy C. Booth)
OMNIBUSES:
LeHorn’s Hollow ~ The Last Zombie
AS EDITOR:
The Drive-In: Multiplex (with Christopher Golden) ~ Clickers Forever: A Tribute to J.F. Gonzalez ~ Jobs In Hell ~ The Best of Horrorfind ~ The Best of Horrorfind II ~ Operation Ice Bat ~ In Delirium ~ New Dark Visions 2 ~ New Dawn ~ The Daughters of Inanna
Copyright © 2023 by Brian Keene
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
For Josie Wales, Bocephus, Millie of the Long Pig Saloon, and all the other warrior women of the wastelands, past and present.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My sincere love, appreciation, and gratitude to Tod Clark and Mark Sylva; Ben Baldwin; Paul Goblirsch and Leigh Haig; David Niall Wilson, David Dodd, and Joshua Saxon; Sephera Giron, Michelle Scalise, and Linda Addison; the readers who supported this novel daily on Patreon; my wife, Mary SanGiovanni; my sons, and my daughter.
CONTENTS
Author’s Note
Prologue
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Part II
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Part III
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Untitled
Appendix
About the Author
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Splintered: The Labyrinth, Book 3 is the third novel in a series. The first two novels are called The Seven: The Labyrinth, Book 1 and Submerged: The Labyrinth, Book 2. It is strongly recommended that you read those novels before reading this one. Backstory will be filled in where appropriate, but not at the expense of pacing or plot. If you have not read the first two books and are forging ahead with this one anyway, then you’re basically watching Return of the Jedi without having seen Star Wars or The Empire Strikes Back.
SPLINTERED
PROLOGUE
T he darkness rushed forward, surging down the corridor inside the Labyrinth. Frowning in alarm and confusion, Javier ‘The Exit’ Mendez watched it approach. He’d been sent to retrieve two of his companions, Frankie Rogers and Donald Bloom, but the world they inhabited didn’t exist anymore. He knew that as a certainty, even without actually seeing the world—because the blackness barreling toward him was Nodens, the Living Darkness, also known as He Who Shall Not Be Named, and the leader of the Thirteen, and the space Nodens was emerging from was, in fact, that former world. Frankie and Bloom ran ahead of it, but the creature was gaining on them. Their expressions were of stark terror.
“This way,” the Exit yelled to them. “Hurry!”
Sensing movement at his side, the Exit turned to his right and saw another of his companions, Tony Genova, sidle up alongside him. The former mobster raised his gun and pointed it at the darkness. Doubting the bullets would have any effect on Nodens, the Exit turned back to their foe.
“Genova,” he said, keeping his attention focused on the threat in front of them, “what are you doing here?”
“Saving your ass,” Tony replied.
Bloom reached them, and then dashed by without stopping or slowing down, offering only a quick nod as he raced past. “Gentlemen.”
Both the Exit and Tony glanced back at him.
“Bloom,” Tony called. “What the fuck is going on? Where are you going?”
Instead of answering, Bloom opened the nearest doorway and flung himself through it. The door slammed shut behind him.
Frankie reached them and stumbled forward into Tony’s arms, clearly exhausted.
“Not... Bloom,” she panted.
“Hey.” Tony hugged her tight. “It's okay.”
She pulled away from him and cocked a thumb over her shoulder at the roiling darkness. “Does that look okay to you?”
The Exit calculated that Nodens would be upon them in another twenty seconds.
“Both of you get behind me,” he warned. “I don't know if this will work without salt. I suspect it will come down to a force of will.”
“If what will work?” Tony asked. Then he turned to Frankie again. “You okay? The hospital fix you up?”
“I’ll be okay.”
The Exit raised his hands and addressed the onrushing darkness. “Eloim shammanta. Barra, Gigum xul. Barra, Maskim xul. Ia idimmu, descente Shtar. Destrato Nud. Destrato Verminus. Destrato Nuada.”
“This shit again,” Frankie muttered.
He heard the two of them begin to giggle. Ignoring them, the Exit focused on the task at hand.
“We're fucked up,” Frankie said.
“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “We are. That's why we work so well together.”
Despite their peril, the Exit felt a deep pang of sadness. How was it that these two people so willingly accepted each other, yet he was still viewed as an outsider by them and the rest of the group? Why did they still treat him like he didn’t belong? Tony had probably killed as many people as the Exit had, and for far less righteous reasons. Why then, were they nice to Tony but not to him?
Never mind, he thought. I have always walked my path alone. Why should things be any different now?
“Destrato Lud,” he chanted. “Destrato Shub-Niggurath. Destrato Pahad. Destrato Lilitu. Destrato Lamashtu. Destrato Othel. Sator opera verminni. Sator opera fhatagn.”
The darkness stopped, as if hitting an invisible wall, and churned mere feet away from them. As the Exit stared into the non-reflective depths, he saw a hint of swirling color appear. That quickly coalesced into a crowd of smiling people, all of whom happily motioned at him to join them. To be with them. To belong. The throng were clearly overjoyed at his presence. Struggling, the Exit had to remind himself that they were an illusion. In real life, nobody was ever happy to see him.
Tony gasped. “Ma?”
Frankie murmured, “My baby…”
“Don't look at it,” the Exit warned. “They're not real. Whatever it’s showing you is a lie. He's tricking you!”
“Ma,” Tony whispered, ignoring him. “I'm sorry.”
He took a shuffling step forward, and the Exit grabbed his arm, squeezing.
“Genova! Snap out of it. That's not your mother!”
Tony stumbled, teetering back and forth, and then closed his eyes. The Exit released his arm.
“Frankie,” Tony groaned. “The Exit's right. It's a trick.”
“No,” she argued. “That’s my baby!”
Tony opened his eyes, grabbed her arm, and pulled her away from the dark. Then he clamped a hand over her eyes. “See? Nothing's there. He Who Shall Not Be Named's fucking with us.”
Frankie shuddered. “Motherfucker.”
“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “Motherfucker indeed. What now Exit?”
“He can't get past the ward I cast. I would suggest we—”
Nodens suddenly seemed to contract in upon itself, and the light from the corridor became visible again. The entity stretched and contorted, forming a single long tentacle, the other end of which vanished out an open doorway and into the level of reality that Frankie and Bloom had just fled. Beyond that was simply more darkness.
“This is just a little piece of him,” Tony said. “Maybe he's retreating?”
“Maybe,” the Exit agreed. “Although that would surprise me.”
“He was after Ob,” Frankie said.
“Ob?” Tony asked. “What are you talking about?”
The tentacle raised itself up and then slammed down onto the floor. The Labyrinth shook beneath their feet. The Exit shuddered as the vibrations ran through him—not just his body, but in his mind, as well. The appendage lashed from side to side, smashing the walls again and again. Tiny flecks of reality fell to the floor like chips of paint. Doorways bent in their frames. Entire sections of wall caved in and collapsed. The floor splintered and crumbled. The Labyrinth pitched and rolled like a ship at sea. White flashes of energy, resembling miniature lightning bolts, crackled in the air.
“Wait,” Tony yelled. “The fuck is he doing?”
“Smashing the Labyrinth to get around the ward of protection.” The Exit turned pale. “He’s destroying this part of reality itself. We’re watching entire worlds—entire universes—die.”
“Well, don’t just stand there. Fucking do something!” Tony raised his weapon and opened fire, unloading round after high-speed round into Nodens. The bullets had no effect.
“You can’t fight him that way,” Frankie advised. “You’re literally trying to shoot the night, hon.”
Tony turned to her and grinned. “Did you just call me hon?”
Frankie returned the smile. “I guess I did.”
“Want to grab a drink after we’re done saving the universe?”
“I’d like—”
“Stay focused,” the Exit warned. He raised his hands again and then thrust them forward. He opened his mouth to chant, but before he could speak, a yellow circle of light appeared at his feet. His eyes went wide. He glanced at his companions with a look of sheer panic. Then his body began to glow with a faint yellow hue.
“Exit,” Tony called. “What is this? What's going on?”
“I don't know,” he replied. “This isn’t me. Run! Run for your...”
Tony and Frankie vanished.
The Labyrinth vanished.
And the Exit found himself standing inside of a cage. His cry faltered, terminating in a choked gasp.
“Frankie?” he called, his voice hoarse. “Genova?”
There was no answer, and no sign of them.
“What is this?”
He glanced around, panicked. The cage stood about eight feet in height and was wide enough that he could lay down inside it, if he curled up. The only contents were a small, thin blanket made of coarse gray cloth, and a flattened, dubiously stained pillow without a pillowcase. The cage’s thick bars appeared to be made from iron. Stepping forward, the Exit cautiously reached out and grabbed hold of one. The metal was cool beneath his touch. The space between the bars was wide enough that he could squeeze his forearm through, but there was nothing on the other side to reach, save for six other identical cages. The space itself was dark, lit only by a few light bulbs suspended high overhead that cast bizarre shadows. There was a lone door at the far end of the room. The bare cinder block walls were painted gray. The floor was also gray, but covered in circular writing and sigils. Each cage stood in the center of one of these circles. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he realized they each formed a particularly powerful summoning and binding ritual. Obviously, that was what had brought him here. But who had done it? And was it him they’d been trying to capture – or something else?
