The Gunslinger

Chapter 7

"What the hell do you mean Hope killed someone?" He sounded confused.

"I mean Hope killed a guy. She took him up the hill and slit his throat!"

"We are talking about the same Hope, right?"

"Short, blonde, one wonky eye from that hit she took? Yes!" Frankie didn't know why he wasn't understanding this.

"Well, do you guys have it handled? You know we can't come up there."

"I think so, but there might be a problem."

"So, you don't have it handled?" Otto's concern was growing.

"Look, I think it might have been Scott."

The name made Otto shudder as he remembered what happened that night, the way they found her, and how messed up Annie was after that. He talked to Frankie for a bit longer, but he knew they didn't have long, and it was only a couple of minutes before he wrapped things up.

"Hey Frankie, just keep her safe for me, okay?"

"You know I will Otto."

He hung up the phone and dropped it on the table in front of him before putting his head in his hands. He didn't think they would fuck this up, he thought they knew the consequences. He sat there for a moment before picking up the phone again. It rang a few times before he was sent to voicemail; he hung up and tried another number, three rings, and as he was about to hang up, a voice answered.

"Do you have any idea how busy I am?" The woman on the other end sounded frustrated.

"Annie, I just got word from The Gunslinger. Hope killed someone."

HELL

Thomas Matheson was walking out the doors of D.A.A.D and onto the streets of hell. He was in agony, his blood was boiling, he was terrified, and it was safe to say that any confidence he had while arriving was now lost. When he first arrived, he was seated in an office that looked more like the bowels of some horrendous creature. In the middle of the room was a black desk, and he was alone. He wasn't sure where he was, but he had a pretty good idea that he was in hell. Thomas spent thirty-four minutes in that office before a door opened. With no one entering to greet him, he wasn't sure what he should do. He wandered into a hallway and it was there that he heard something, it was whispering to him, waiting for him, ready to take him. As he cautiously made his way down the hallway, he saw somebody walk out in front of him from a door he couldn't see. He recognized the face, it was a friend of his, the young man he had died in a hallway with. Steven Johnson instantly recognized Thomas, and they began to walk towards each other. As they got closer they could hear a growling, it was growing louder and they both began to run toward each other, but Steven was quickly stopped. A tentacle covered in thorns erupted from the ceiling and wrapped itself around Steven, and then another protruded from the fleshy floor. They began to pull him apart as he screamed, a sound like Thomas had never heard before. Steven was torn in half, disemboweled, and torn limb from limb, Steven was alive the entire time. As Thomas turned to run the other way, he could hear his friend crying for help, begging for somebody to put an end to it. Thomas knew that the same horrible fate awaited him sooner or later.

Thomas found an exit at the end of the hallway and found himself on a city street. The city he had just walked into looked destroyed, there was blood trickling through the gutters, and there was a red mist that hung in the air. It was warm and sticky, he assumed it was also blood, but it burned as it touched his skin, the smell flooded his nostrils, and he could almost taste it. It was a smell of rot and decay, it tasted like rotting meat, and if he didn't keep his mouth closed, he would gag. He could hear screaming in the distance, he heard growling and snarling, the cries for help, and the begging for mercy made him grow weak in the legs. He wasn't sure where to go or what to do, he wandered through the streets aimlessly, sticking to the sides of building ducking into nooks and crannies whenever he heard something get close. It felt like hours, but he had no way to tell what time it was, the sky wasn't bright like it should've been, it was dark but illuminated by what seemed like a multitude of fires off in the distance.