Isolated

Chapter 67

Chapter 67

Holy shit, fuck... fuck! My breath sifted in and out unevenly. They were here! We feared they would find us, and somehow, they have. Maybe I should just kill myself now so they won't get the pleasure. Because how in the world were we going to get out of here?!

Well, panicking only wastes time. Living another day meant being smart and careful. I had to suck up my fear and shock. Good fucking luck to me. Who knows how, but I needed to act. Needed to do something, but what?! Though I didn't know what to do, the first step was Francis.

Without a second thought, I snagged the handgun from the bedside table drawer. They could be in the house. Be quiet. Slowly, I stepped into the hall and eased towards the bathroom door on the balls of my feet. I peeped left to the stairs. Nobody in sight. Reaching the bathroom door, I swung it open. Rushing inside and latching the door gently shut, light flooded my dark-adapted wide eyes.

Francis was shaving, eyes unmoving from the mirror. Gliding the razor under his chin, it dragged the remaining shaving cream with it. "You're a little late if you wanted some shower acti—"

"We need to go! Right now, they are here, we need to get out," I hissed, stepping forward. As he turned to me, I snagged the shaver from his hand and threw it in the sink.

"Where are they? You sure?" Eyes growing, he hastily wiped away the rest of the shaving cream and shut off the sink.

Giving him my handgun, I turned to the small bathroom closet. Flinging it open, I towed out a shotgun and box of shells from the top shelf. "I looked out my window, saw all these people. There were sounds. I-I don't know what they are doing. They could be in the house so don't get too loud." With fast hands, I grabbed five shells from the box I set on the counter. "I don't know how we're getting out."

Tilting the gun up and slipping each into the magazine tube, I let the front end drop into my other hand. My grip on the slider allowed me to rack the gun. Here we go.... And yes, I know. How freaking badass can I get. Thankfully, Luke prepped me and showed me how to handle a shotgun.

"Jesus fuck," he groaned. "Maybe we can get out if they aren't in the backyard yet." Francis cautiously walked over to the small bathroom window. "Never mind."

"They back there too?" I sighed, heart sinking.

"Yeah," he groaned, striding back to me. "They are standing around talking."

A few more thumps and clanks reached my ears – either from outside or downstairs. Trying to ignore it, I shoved a handful of shells from the box into my cotton shorts pocket. Grabbing another two handfuls, I roughly shoved them into Francis's sweatpants pockets. "We'll just shoot out way out then, I don't know," I shook my head. "If they aren't in the house, maybe we can grab my phone—" Suddenly, a musky odor of dead nature and decay reached my senses. The nasty stench came in a strong wave. "What's that smell?" I cringed.

Taking in Francis's freshly shaved face, his brows lowered in confusion. But as his lips parted to speak, he immediately erupted in a coughing fit. "Shit," he choked out in a wheeze.

Over his coughing, my mouth, nose, and throat started to sting. The air seemed to be fading, replaced by something toxic. Something that burned us as we breathed it in. What the hell were these people doing?! It soon became obvious. My eyes stopped and zeroed in on the source.

The vent on the floor was releasing a green smoke. Funneling into the air, it created a green haze around the vent. One that quickly grew. And expanded. After just a few seconds, the green smoke was becoming thick.

The sight punched my gut and flooded dread through my body. "They're gassing us!" I exclaimed. No, no, no!?! If we don't get out now, we could suffocate. If we do go flying out of the house, we will get shot down. Wonderful options! Where the fuck were we suppose to go?! Suppose to do! What if we were already dead by breathing this shit in?! When my wide eyes flew back to Francis, the air around us already supported a green tint.