Maggie
wwwwwwwww
I squeeze my eyes shut for a long moment, slowly shaking my head at their stupidity.
I mean, I didn't see them run downstairs, but I certainly heard the echoing sounds of their feet hitting the floor, and the deafening slam of a door somewhere in the distance. Then:
Silence.
I hold my breath and listen more, my head cocked toward the closed door behind me.
Nothing. I hear nothing.
But I did see something. Maybe the others saw it too, and that's why they ran. That's certainly why I'm hiding behind a closed door down the hall from the entrance to the sewers. This place seems to be some sort of old, abandoned office building. There are cobwebs, dust, and dead insects everywhere.
And some kind of wild animal is roaming around the hall. A wolf, I think. I could only manage to catch a glimpse of a blur of pale white in the darkness of the hallway before I bolted, but it is definitely something on all fours.
And something that gives an alarming growl.
Suddenly I feel rather naked without a weapon. I should've held onto my trusty bat while I still had it.
I slowly and carefully move away from the door. I don't hear any quick footsteps heading in my direction, and it doesn't swing open, so I think I'm okay.
I twist around to survey my new environment--a wide open space of various cubicles similar to the one leading to the sewers. I hesitantly cross the floor, wondering if this somehow connects to the office area I had just left down the hall.
Then it hits me like a surging tsunami wave:
An ungodly stench like no other.
The stench of death.
The stench of rotting flesh.
I round the corner just in time to glimpse a bloody carcass hanging from a hook in the ceiling just a few feet from me. The corpse of a large pig, I think--split open in the middle as if ready to be sliced by a butcher. Some things have slipped out and piled in a cold mush right below. Organs, probably. Several flies can be seen crawling over the cold flesh, buzzing with delight. Dried black rivers run their courses down to the floor, having already created a puddle on the dirty tiles.
This horrible exhibit has been hanging here for a while!
I gag and stagger away, then my foot catches on something and I trip backwards, slamming my head against the floor.
"UGHHH!" I cry out through clenched teeth, squeezing my eyes shut against the pain.
I put a hand to my head as I slowly pick myself up from the dirty floor. When I open my eyes again, I spot what I had tripped over: a piece of paper with the permanent black mark of my shoe print on it. But that's not what grabs my attention.
I'm staring at a picture of myself.
My blood runs cold. Somehow, the knot on the back of my head doesn't seem that painful now.
My trembling fingers find the edge of the thin paper, and I pick it up. It's not top quality--definitely not a photograph that Ralph would take. It is slightly hazy and appears to have been taken from a distance.
But it's definitely me--dark hair, bangs. No doubt. I even recognize what street I'm on in the photograph. It's my regular route that I take to walk to the library.
The hairs on my arm stand on end when I realize that I had been walking there alone on that particular day.
And someone had been watching me.
I stagger to my feet, trying to focus my eyesight on my surroundings once again. Various sharp hooks and chains hang from the ceiling and the walls. Dark substances have been splattered all over the place.
God, this stinks!
I better get out of here before I throw up.
But something else catches my eye--a cork board hanging on the wall behind a desk. It's rather large in size, spanning the length of the wall several feet.
I feel the photograph of myself slip through my fingers when I see what is tacked on the surface. I hear the faint flutter and the slight rustle as it slides on the floor.
Jumbled in a furious puzzle, pinned on top of others in multiple layers--faces. Everywhere--faces I know, people I trust, my closest friends.
Senpai.
Michal.
Vena.
Mini Bites.
Eddie.
Dallas.
Wesley.
The whole youth group is here. Everyone is tacked on the board, in different angles, various places, in all times of the day. Blurry, sharp, close, far, through windows and across streets.
Mad scribbles are scrawled over the pictures. Bold black circles envelope some people, like Della and Michal. And me. Others have frightening X's over their faces--Senpai, Dallas, Isabella.
My heart skips a beat. What does this mean? What does any of this mean?
And there's more--blueprints and maps. I can make out aerial views of the mountain ranges and of the ski trails; even what appears to be numerous tunnels mapped out between the lodge and another, larger building sitting far away.
This building. Hitchwood Sanitarium, the label reads.
Whoever has been stalking us, they've been doing it for a long time. And they've been preparing for this trip extensively.
I back up slowly, taking in the overwhelming obsessive exhibit before me, until my back hits the opposite wall. That's when some of the crazy words scratched on the pictures come together, jumping out like accusing phantoms of judgment:
There is no one righteous.
There is no one who understands.
There is no one who seeks God.
I don't realize that I've been holding my breath until I release it rather shakily. My hands are trembling, and I clench them to stop myself.
I need to get to Michal and the others before it's too late. We have to leave. We have to leave right now.
Click.
The sound is so quiet but simultaneously alarmingly loud.
I whip my head in the direction of the noise, half-expecting to see someone pointing a gun to my head like in the movies, but all my eyes fall on is the closed door to the hallway.
I peel myself away from the wall, the hairs on my arms standing on end.
I did hear something. Was it the floorboards? The creepy noise that any old building makes during the silence of the night?
I glance into the next room, beyond the pig carcass. Other office doors loom in a small, distant hall. But it is a scary void of darkness and uncertain shadow.
Is someone there?
I back away, slowly turning toward the exit. I grab onto the cold doorknob and quickly twist--
It catches on something.
My heart leaps to my throat.
No.
I twist again--and again. It doesn't budge.
No no no no no no no.
Someone locked it from the outside. The soft click I had heard--someone was in the hallway.
They know I'm in here.
................................
Romans 3:10-18
"There is no one righteous, not even one; there is no one who understands; there is no one who seeks God. All have turned away, they have together become worthless; there is no one who does good, not even one. Their throats are open graves; their tongues practice deceit. The poison of vipers is on their lips. Their mouths are full of cursing and bitterness. Their feet are swift to shed blood; ruin and misery mark their ways, and the way of peace they do not know. There is no fear of God before their eyes."
..................................
Next chapter: Gone
"H-H..."
I hold my breath, straining to make sense of his labored sounds.
"...Hmmm. I-It's him."