A/N-So this is my first fanfiction story...and first attempt at creative writing in a long time! Let me know what you think! I will be throwing in a variety of twists and turns that don't have the much to do with the originial series. Hopefully this will be appealing to those of you who are tired of reading the same plot twists over and over. Also, if it looks like people are reading this regularly than i will update regularly. Even though that may just be something I do anyways..given how much fun I am having with it!
CHAPTER 1
Nell was sitting on her hotel room floor, long auburn hair cascading down her face. Curled up in the corner, she was breathing shallowly, nervous hands repeatedly rubbing her forehead. Eyes closed, she breathed in the muggy Atlanta heat through her hotel window.
She had been trying to convince herself to leave her hotel room for the past three days, and it hadn't been working.
Rather than standing up, grabbing whatever belongings seemed practical and heading out the door, she had simply alternated her location in her hotel room, moving from her bed, to the bathroom, and ultimately to her current position, curled up with her back pressed into the hotel room corner, her eyes closed and her palms sweaty.
Anxiety.
Heart pounding, sweat inducing, mind numbing anxiety.
Never in her life had she been so scared. Never in her life had she felt this paralyzed.
She'd heard that in dangerous situations, the average person goes into flight or fight.
However Nell, it turned out, did neither. No, she froze, as wave after wave of terror washed over her. For three days now. Weak. Pathetic.
Removing her hand from her forehead, Nell put her left ear up the wall behind her, listening.
Silence.
Pausing briefly, she willed herself into a standing position, and then walked on soft feet to her window, closing it gently.
Silence.
Not the good kind either.
As Nell was already beginning to understand, there are two kinds of quiet, the kind you want and the kind you don't.
The kind you want is gentle. It takes you in and eases you into sleep. It is the quiet of security, of warm homes and locked doors.
The bad kind, the kind Nell was currently experiencing, was made of different stuff entirely.
It was, she reflected, just like the proverbial calm before the storm.
It made her walk softly, and caused her ears to strain, the silence like an invisible weight on the fair skin of her shoulders.
Moving faster, she traversed to the hotel room door, and placed her ear against it, brow furrowed as she listened intently.
Still nothing.
This was it. If there was ever a time to get out of this god forsaken hotel room, it was going to have to be now.
Nell moved quickly to her bed, her breathing still shallow as she tried to maintain control.
Standing over the cheap paisley comforter, she took quick stock of her luggage, and eyed the basic black backpack next to it. It was clear that only so much was going to fit into it, and that she was going to have to get smart about what she packed.
Muttering to herself, she unzipped her luggage and rapidly started going through it.
"Don't need tights, heels, this black skirt, this white button down..." She continued to shift around the contents of the bag.
"Do need these shorts, this rain jacket, my hiking boots, hiking socks, my fleece, my hat, my first aid kit, my pocket knife, this map of the Blue Ridge Mountains, my compass, this granola bar...underwear..." Her voiced trailed off as she eyed her black backpack nervously.
The more she contemplated stuffing in there, the smaller it seemed.
She glanced down at the sheer white blouse she was wearing over a white tank top, and quickly moved her legs in her light blue skinny jeans. The pants flexed easily with her sudden movements and she decided they were comfortable enough for...she shuddered at the reality of what she was attempting.
It was absolutely insane-no world changing- that she had just checked whether her pants were flexible enough for running. From dead people.
"Stop." She said it softly to herself out loud. "You think like that you are never leaving this room, and that won't end well."
With a heightened sense of urgency she began stuffing the belongings she had decided to keep into her backpack. Her thin hand lingered over the pocket knife, and in a rush of decision she left it out of the pack. Out of everything she was taking, it was the one most likely to see immediate use.
Desperate now in her anxiety, the silence of the hotel taunting her, she flung the pack on and strode to the door. Stopping, she gingerly placed both hands on its cheap wood and brought her eye against the peep hole.
Slumped against the opposing wall, a man had collapsed. His neck had been torn open, and a flap of weathered skin had exposed arteries now oozing blood, their initial cascade now a slow trickle. His t-shirt was stained a deep red, and his pudgy hand lay lifeless on the hallway's blue carpet.
But if her observations of the chaos leading up to her rapid retreat to her hotel room held true, he wouldn't be lifeless for much longer.
It had to be now.
She moved her hand to the cool metal of the door knob, and turned the handle.
