The memory of the panicked screaming, the sounds of pain that had assaulted her while she crouched in the back of her concrete cell, rose up unbidden in her mind. What had they seen? What were their last moments, their last memories of? She didn't want to die like this, scurrying around in the woods like a feral animal, like the prey to the predator. Yet at that moment, that's exactly what she was.
Her body shivered with cold, belly ached with hunger. Muscles burned from exertion when she hadn't moved much in the days leading up to this. The stitch in her side hadn't gone away, and now her throat was parched and raw from her ragged breathing. She was a city girl, born and raised to be able to find whatever she needed at a store or online.
She'd never even camped out in her own backyard as most kids did, she'd been too busy curled up in bed with a small light next to her, her nose stuck in whatever book she'd been engrossed in that week. Following a strange path in the woods seemed foolish in retrospect, but she didn't know enough outdoorsy things to be able to really think of some kind of brilliant alternative.
Unexpectedly, the bulk of the trees dropped away, leaving her standing in a clearing of sorts. Shocked by the lack of cover, she ducked back under the overhanging trees to protect herself as she attempted to sort out what she was looking at. The hulking structure sat back a ways from the woods, the grounds overgrown with weeds and strewn with garbage. It was dilapidated, boards falling off, half of the roof caved in. You could tell it had once been a large, intimidating building. This place... she knew it. Or rather, of it.
The Stoney Ridge Sanitarium. A fire had devoured it decades ago, it hadn't housed patients in far longer than that. Kids sometimes snuck out here for parties, or for a dare. Last she'd heard, they'd had some sort of security team sent in occasionally to patrol the place, to keep people from getting hurt by snooping inside.
Eyes wide, she glanced behind her before scurrying towards the building. She had to get out of sight. If that meant going in there, then that's what she was going to do. If they had security cameras, awesome. If not, she just had to hide until patrol time.
The steps were broken, slabs of the concrete half gone, or in pieces around the others. The huge porch wrapped around the entire lower half, likely meant as a place for patients to sit in the sun. Letting out the breath she'd been holding, she gently nudged the door open, the creaking noise sounding like it belonged in a horror movie. A vast emptiness stretched before her, dust motes dancing in what little bit of sunlight made it through the cracked, caked over windows.
If only she'd gone the other way, picked a different path. If she'd paid attention to survival shows and knew how to find the stream that lead to the roads. Things you wish you knew in hindsight before it was too late.
Chapter Four
The place stank like mold and mildew, the evidence of it creeping up the walls to blend with roots and trees that had breached the foundations. You could see remnants of the fire on nearly every surface, a reminder that the place was likely not very stable. Testing with her toes, she pressed her weight halfway onto each tile before continuing to move. Safe or not, she couldn't very well stand here in the first room she'd entered, as that's where her pursuers would come from as well.
Since she'd heard the shout, she was assuming there was more than one, if he hadn't been talking to the dogs. Breathing out, she picked her way deeper. Obscene graffiti decorated the walls, bent metal beds strewn across the halls haphazardly. There were stains that alternatively looked like alcohol or various bodily fluids, which she steered far clear of. No need to step somewhere and figure out exactly what it was she was seeing. Vandals certainly had the run of the place for years before and after the fire.
They had quickly sorted through any medical equipment left behind and stolen anything potentially valuable to sell. Beer cans and liquor bottles were stacked in corners, abandoned flashlights lying next to them. Testing a few, she held onto two of the heavier ones that still seemed to have some power left. They'd give her illumination as she got further from the windows. They'd also be handy as a weapon.
She still clutched the blade in her hand, but just in case, you couldn't go wrong with having a few options. Wrinkling her nose as she noticed spent condoms next to one of the disgusting mattresses, she shuddered involuntarily. What type of person looked around at this and didn't fear disease by stripping down here? It boggled the mind.
Carefully backing away from the evidence of what was clearly someone more insane than the patients here had been, she debated her options, as few as they were. She'd escaped the small cell that certainly spelled doom. Yet she was pretty sure she hadn't lost him or them, just delayed the inevitable for a bit.
Spinning as she heard a clattering sound nearby, she let out a breath in relief when she saw the small mouse darting away from her. A mouse, she could handle. With the intention of getting deeper into the labyrinth, she started checking out the rooms as she passed, making sure she wasn't missing an opportunity to find a better way of defending herself.
What she saw chilled her to the bone. There'd always been rumors about this place. Residents said it was haunted, that people had been tortured and abused here. Staring at inhumane scratches gouged into the padded walls, she couldn't help but to believe the stories. Reddish stains pooled in corners, and she could almost see a wretched soul crouched there, in pain and unable to understand what was happening around them.
People always said what separated humans from animals was their empathy, and the fact that they were an intelligent species capable of higher reasoning. That animals were cruel without reason and attacked out of instinct. Humans could understand emotions, could sympathize with them. Yet looking around, her heart ached for those that had been trapped here. They'd been treated like vermin, like animals, by their fellow man. Where was the humanity in that?
Brushing a stray tear from her cheek, she delved deeper, instantly recoiling as she ducked into one of the rooms used for shock therapy. Cages lined one of the far walls, decayed carcasses of animals lining the bases. The chair was still in a place of honor in the middle of the room, it hadn't been taken since it'd been bolted to the floor. It stood as a silent sentry to the atrocities committed here, deep gouges in the arms where nails had been dug in through sheer pain.
Imagining the horror any resident here went through, human or animal, made her stomach pitch and roll. The entire place had a pall of misery and despair around it that seemed to seep into your bones, making the air itself seem oppressive. She left that room in a hurry, carefully shutting the door behind her.
As the latch clicked, she froze. Had that been an answering noise echoing from where she'd come? Had she managed to explore far enough that whoever it was wouldn't easily find her? Her eyes danced over the hallway she was in. If she were honest with herself, she didn't quite know how far she'd walked from the front door. The atmosphere here lent itself to a person being easily spooked, so she paid less attention to the near escape she'd earned, and more to her current predicament. Near the far end of the hall, she saw what looked like a service stairwell.
Knowing they were supposedly safer places to be in case of fires, with their cinder block construction, she headed that way. At least the fire escape was likely to be the one place where fire damage hadn't caused weak flooring where she'd fall through and alert anyone following her to exactly where she was. She watched movies just like anyone else. All the idiot bimbos in all the scary movies always ran up, even when faced with a better option. And then they lost their lives in various horrible ways while the audience booed them or screamed advice to an inanimate screen.
Not wanting to be one of those, she glanced over the rungs to see how far down it was. It looked like it was only two stories from the outside, but she knew from the whispered history that people claimed there were subterranean floors, to keep the "worst" patients where no one could hear them scream. She saw three separate platforms below her position, meaning there were three basement levels.
&
nbsp; The rumors were partly true then, at least. If she managed to stay out of sight, the first level might be the safest to stay on. It'd be the one just underground, where she could still escape from a high window if she needed to get out of the building itself quickly.
Any deeper, and she'd have no way of escaping. It struck her then in a bit of ironic misery... she'd exchanged one underground prison for another. At least this one had room to run, space to fight. Whether she was capable of fighting a full grown man or two wasn't something she was willing to think on at the moment. Survival meant she'd do whatever she had to, no matter what. Carefully tiptoeing down the metal staircase anchored into the concrete walls, she ignored the shaking of her hand as she pulled the door open, gently shutting it behind her to seal herself inside and hopefully hide which floor she'd scampered off to.
Hardly any light escaped down here since the windows were set so high. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she realized she'd made a grave mistake. If there wasn't a table or shelf in front of a window that she could get to, an option for an easy route out of this place wouldn't be forthcoming. Breathing out, she squared her shoulders as she took stock of where she was.
It looked like some sort of laboratory. Flasks and microscopes sat on metal tables, coated with years of dust and grime. Spotting a door whose handle appeared cleaner, she pried it open, instantly regretting the decision. Wide eyes met her own, fear etched on the face she stared at. Only difference? This one was recently dead.
Chapter Five
Quickly biting down on her knuckle to stop the scream that wanted to erupt, her breathing was unsteady as she took in the grotesque scene laid out before her. The female was swaying, mouth opened in a silent scream. Blood had pooled on the floor beneath the body, tracing the cracks in the broken linoleum.
Her shoulders shook in barely suppressed disgust as she tried not to let the toast she'd eaten earlier make its way back up as her stomach rolled. The reason for the blood was obvious. The woman had been strung up on some sort of cadaver hook. As far as she knew, those hadn't been used in decades. Any disturbance in the air, say, someone opening the door, would make the body swing. Her chest was split open in a "Y" shape, which she knew was for autopsies. Except a dead body didn't bruise, and the incisions had bruising along the surgical cuts.
Fighting another near upheaval of her stomach contents, she briefly noticed bags in the corner, liquids seeping from them to stain the floor under them a garish red color, one arm exposed. Slipping from the door, she winced at the click of the door as it seemed to echo in the space, far louder than she'd expected. The air in there had smelled of death and fear. Even the stale, dusty air out here was a vast improvement.
Now she had her answer as to where the women had gone after the screams in the bunker had stopped. The body had been too fresh to have been anything else. It began to sink in that she'd inadvertently walked right into what appeared to be a killer's hunting ground. Her heart sank with the thought. She'd been so sure she'd make it out of this, but the woman's face would be forever etched in her mind, leaving her no doubt as to the fate that awaited her if she didn't.
As a thudding noise broke the silence, she ducked, crawling underneath one of the nearest laboratory tables. They'd been haphazardly shoved towards the middle of the room, the glassware jumbled, broken pieces scattering the surface. It was a mini labyrinth which kept her hidden a fair bit from the door itself. The noise had taken a minute to place, but it finally registered to her as a heavy boot-step.
The floor above must be thinner in that area, as she could trace his movements as he walked, searching the halls she'd traversed herself. Strain as she might, she could only hear one set of footsteps, which was a slight relief... there was only one person after her. A deranged psychopath, no doubt, but one was infinitely more desirable than two.
She'd never believed that buildings could have an aura. That horrible actions could leave scars in the very foundations of the area that had witnessed them. Yet crouched beneath the tabletop, she couldn't deny the prickling sensation of her hair standing on end. The unerring certainty that someone, or something, was standing too close for comfort. She knew her pursuer hadn't entered the stairwell yet, the sound of the boots on the metal stairs would give him away. Closing her eyes, she let out her breath in a slow, steady stream, counting to 10 as she did so.
When the feeling hadn't dissipated, she curled her hands into fists, clenching them at her sides. Slowly, she turned her head, terrified of what she'd see looking back at her. If she had a heart condition, she wouldn't have needed to worry about being found, she'd already be done for. She cupped her hands over her mouth to muffle the squeak of horror that had almost escaped.
The woman was slight, much smaller than she herself was, her skin so pale that it appeared translucent. Wide ebony eyes stared at her from merely a few inches away. Trying to regulate her breathing, she shook her head, hands trembling as she shuddered. She wasn't seeing the broken, bloodied soul of someone who'd come before her. She couldn't be. This was... something else. Something that had an explanation.
Or at least that's what she attempted to tell herself. The woman's mouth elongated, stretching wide. The most horrifying part was the silence. Her lips were parted, body contorting under the tables, but no sound echoed through the room. The woman's face began to morph, black veins tracing across her flesh around the deep gouges and wounds as her fingers curled into claws.
The female tried desperately to grab at her, but she wrenched herself backwards, scurrying further under the network of metal legs to outmaneuver the macabre sight. Breathing hard, she didn't notice the leather boots behind her, so intent she was on escaping the spectre in front of her. Hearing a laugh, she whirled around, as he bent forward, eyes meeting hers.
"Well hello, little one."
Chapter Six
This time, the scream escaped in a rush as she jerked away from the reaching hand. Scrambling back to where she'd come from, she squeezed through the narrow opening again, leaving more than a few dark strands of hair in his grip. Thankfully, there was no vengeful spirit or whatever it had been standing in her way this time. Sadly, even without help, he was between her and the fire stairwell she'd come through. She supposed she was the bimbo in this film, then.
Turning, she caught a flash of white in front of him. It was enough. His laughter was deep, echoing in the large space, but it abruptly cut off as the form moved closer. She ran, heading for the doors on the far side of the room. They'd lead deeper into the massive complex down here, but it was away from him and she'd be able to search for another stairwell, a window, something in order to escape.
Slamming the metal door behind her, she marveled that she'd managed to keep ahold of both the flashlights through the fear. Her fingers had clenched so tight around them that they ached, the blade sandwiched between the one and her palm. She hadn't even realized she'd been bleeding. Wedging the largest flashlight into the door handles, she turned, flying down the corridors as if monsters were chasing her. Technically? One was.
As expected, she ended up hopelessly turned around. The air was rank down here, smelling of damp rot and decay. There's a saying that once you realize what a dead, decaying body smells like, you'd never forget it. The poor woman upstairs was seared into her memory, and so was the stench of that awful room. This deep in the basement, the smell was almost putrid. Every time she inhaled, she swore she could taste it on her tongue, making her gag repeatedly.
Worse, the floor was sticky with some kind of residue. Her feet were suctioning to it with every step, she had to lift them carefully to avoid making much noise. She didn't dare to turn on the flashlight. Not only would it give away her position more easily, she'd then have to come face to face with one of the many scenarios currently running through her head, and none of them were good.
The ambient light was enough to keep her from knocking into things, and that was plenty for her. Even with not much light to the place, she'd
ventured far enough down the labyrinthine hallways that she was able to slow slightly, quickly peeking into each room to see if there was a window that was accessible.
Unfortunately, it appeared that most of the windows had been behind her, where she didn't dare to try to go again. Hearing a crunching noise under her foot when she'd stepped, she froze. Well, now what in the world was that? Counting to ten in her head, she tried to argue with herself that this was a bad idea. Instead, her trembling fingers seemed to act without direct input from her brain, the flashlight kicking on with a wavering flame from her shaking hands.
This time, she couldn't help herself. She bent forward, heaving as her stomach rolled, unable to hold the bile back even though she didn't have much left in her stomach to begin with. What had been under her feet was a thick layer of guts and organs that she couldn't readily identify. Some looked human while others appeared animal in nature. The walls were painted a garish red, or at least that's what she thought until she realized it had congealed. Blood. It was blood.
Kira Malone Chronicles: Vol 1 (Slaughter USA) Page 2