R.O.O.M.M.A.T.E.S. [BoyxBoy]

[9] R.O.O.M.M.A.T.E.S.

R.O.O.M.M.A.T.E.S.

Chapter Nine

Chase's POV

I groaned as I woke up, trying to see in the dark rusty cell it appeared that I was in.

"Jason?" I mumbled, trying to move, but everything was too foggy and blurry, and I barely rolled over. I blinked a few times, trying to let my eyes adjust to my new surroundings, and grimaced as I felt a sharp pain in my forehead.

"Hello?" I called out, wincing at my pathetic sounding scratchy voice.

I froze when I remembered getting dragged somewhere by Michael, and then darkness.

Maybe they knocked me out.

Great.

I reached a hand up, and winced as it brushed over the cut on my head, and I pulled it down to see that the injury was still bleeding.

"Hello?" I called again, coughing and grimacing as I noticed the distinct smell of something...

Dead.

Really dead.

I felt myself start to panic, and I pushed myself off the floor, wincing as everything turned into one big blur. I blinked several times, but to no avail. I stumbled and leaned against what I guessed was a wall. 

"Jeez, you're... making enough...ruckus to alert Texas from here." Someone said, and I blinked, my vision starting to clear as I looked towards the source of the noise.

"Who's there?" I frowned, looking towards the back of the cage where the noise was coming from, and I could make out a ...

Corpse.

I gulped, taking a step backwards, and winced as I felt the rusty bars dig into my non-clothed back, and I jumped away, realizing I was completely naked.

Wonderful. Just like old times.

"Why don't... you just call me... what I am? Dead. Or dying, at... least." Suddenly the voice coughed, and I grimaced, hesitatingly approaching.

"What the hell happened to you?" I asked slowly, wincing.

"Michael thought he would try and make me a siren, just like those goofs by his side." He muttered bitterly, and I blinked, staring at him surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Those... goons of his.... I used to be one... of them." The voice coughed again, and I had to try not to recoil in disgust at the firm smell of decaying flesh.

"What... I don't...?"

"He tried... an experiment." The rotting thing muttered. "He thought for sure he had it. After all, once you, the only experiment that survived becoming two different breeds, escaped the place, he went mad... more so even than before. He was running so many different tests on you, that he didn't know which one succeeded."

I winced at that, remembering weeks of being poked and prodded with needles, electricity shooting through me, and several different survival tests. No way in Hell would I ever try and do any of it again.

"And so.... he tried way... more tests on other people... I was one of the first..." The thing stopped for a while, and I realized it was trying to catch it's breath. It was probably on it's final hour...

"But they all turned out like I did... started to rot, even though they were alive... like zombies but at a faster pace. But the worst thing was, that even after they were nothing more than a bunch of bones... they... just kept... continuing to groan and shriek... cause they still felt the pain. They weren't dead... They were undead... and Michael refused to put them down at first... all throughout the mental... hospital you just.... heard these horrible.... wails... of agony..."