PANIC ROOM II

Three

 The floor shakes beneath our feet, tiles cracking and plunging into an abyss of black water dozens of metres below. I look around the crumbling room. Bodies are pulling on armour, shrugging on rucksacks, half asleep.

 Six hours remain on the stop-clock, ticking despite the wall behind it falling in pieces into the cave below. It was another trick. Another false sense of security. Jaemin pulls at the door handle, his foot resting on the unstable frame.

"IT'S BEEN SEALED FROM THE OUTSIDE!"

"You know perfectly well the consequences if they escape, don't you, 1003?"

The President's voice resonates horribly as I realise there is no way out. our only choice is to return. Back to the labyrinth.

"THROUGH HERE!" Nick yells, thrusting open the door that we entered through, after the first task. Back to the PANIC ROOM. I run through, my gut instinct outweighing my inhibitions. 

The room we enter is entirely different to the one we left to get to the safe space. The long, ghostly corridor is gone.  Instead, a large spiral staircase, stretching to climb each wall of the square room. A large square gap in the staircase is centre of the room. The steps ascend so high up that the top is shrouded in fog. The staircase continues downwards, enveloped in darkness.

A crash from within the safe space. A piece of ceiling falls, pinning 014 Harry to the floor. He shouts out in pain, as Finn and Lucas heave the rubble off Harry's body. Bruises cover his face, despite his visor being untouched by the ceiling.

James stares at me. I know what he's thinking. They're exactly the same as those on James' own bruises on his back and chest. Only now, in the full light, I can see what they really are.

They're not bruises. It's a symptom of the virus. Black and yellow masses gather beneath the skin ready to burst out of the skin.

My mind flashes back to an old memory. I doubt whether or not it's my memory, as it feels so unfamiliar and cold.

A bright classroom which contrasts with my strange new environment. The interactive board glows with a PowerPoint slide. Gruesome diagrams and drawings of swellings and bruises are scattered on the board, exactly the same as those on Harry's face. In the centre, in bold capitals are three words, electrifying the hairs on the back of my neck.

The Black Death.

My feet sweep me out of the trance as l dart to avoid the cracks in the staircase beneath me.

"UP OR DOWN?!" Nick yells to James, as we huddle in groups to avoid the gaps.

"UP!" James shouts, leading the way up the staircase. The others clamour after him, Johnny staying behind and ushering them forward, taking the back.

"Alexa? Can we talk for a second?" Chris mutters as we climb the flight of stairs.

"Stop calling me that. That isn't me-"

"Lex then? Lexi? Xi? I'm joking don't worry," he clears his throat, adopting a more serious tone. "Stay away from Gaunt."

"Who the fuck is Gaunt?"

"The fuckin' president, who almost caught you, dipshit!"

"But why?"

"He's literally the reason why we're here??"

"Who are y'all talking about?" Johnny inquires, rife with suspicion. Chris and I exchange glances.

"Nothing."

"'Don't sound like nothing, c'mon you can trust me-"

I pale at his words.

Trust no one.

I search his face for the ink-like bruises. But there are none. Clearly trust is a one-sided concept.

A soft crash below interrupts my thoughts. I whip around to see a large body of water rise up the column, eroding the stone steps in its wake, which turn a ominous sickly yellow. It's coming straight for us.