Chapter 1
The Shit Storm
The gore had soaked through Kara's socks and its unexpected coldness bubbled and squished in between her toes. Her socks as well as the bottoms of her jean legs were slowly becoming heavy with its rank weight. The bile did not rise up against her throat as she half expected it would. Her stomach did not lurch with the pure, sickening and fearful realization of it all. It remained as still and silent as the empty hallway she faced. Kara's pale hand still lightly grazed the fine polished wood of the stair railing, far too terrified to tremble. It was that empty feeling of pure panic that washed over her, the numb limbo of fearful indecisiveness she had come to know better than she'd ever admit.
She had learned to disguise such fear. In the kind of environment that she'd been exposed to these past years, it was essential that she maintained the appearance of cool-headed professionalism at all times. It was fairly effortless to withhold her common emotions.
But it was the times when the anxiety floated so unbearably near the surface that the imitation of such calm collectiveness proved most difficult, the times like this, when she'd innocently walked down the stairs, onto somebody's insides, and indivertibly into probably one of the biggest shit-storms she'd known in all of her experience living here, which was defiantly saying something.
It was that smell, the horrid reek that wafted up from under her feet that forced her to come to the realization that all of this was really happening. Pungent, heavy and mixed with a familiar but subtle trace of smoke. She knew that burnt smell was all that remained of the bullet that had relived someone of the blood and globs of tissue she found herself standing in. The same think wetness that was slowly seeping up her pant legs had only moments before been a very valuable and beloved part of someone's insides, and the train of half coagulated gore that wrapped around the hall corner left very little to the imagination concerning its owner.
She eyed the blood soaked trail that marred the otherwise pristine carpeting with a growing sense of dread. She couldn't shake the image from her mind, that of the one who had obviously met his unfortunate end in the spacious hallway being dragged by one or two of his limp, lifeless extremities down the hall and into the far room, the first floor bathroom by the looks of it. The reasoning behind dragging the body out of sight and leaving such a hideous mess was beyond her, but at least she now had a general sense of the areas of the house she would be wise to avoid during the mad dash that she was silently formulating in her mind of escape.
Ian Madison's mansion was riddled with emergency hidey-holes and escape passages, Ian was particular about this and considering his previous experience it was simply accepted that he would know best concerning such things. "An intruder was always something to be feared, especially the well paid professional kind" was what he told Kara, trying to justify the amount of time and money he poured into the project. All of the passages and person-sized shelters were specifically and strategically placed in almost every major room throughout the house according to Ian's exact specifications. And what good did all meticulous preparation get him? For all Kara knew her uncle was sprawled in a pool of gore quite similar to the sickening mess still seeping through her socks.
She couldn't think of that now, and she secretly rejoiced in banishing the image from her mind, there were far more pressing matters at hand, like how the hell she was going emerge from this whole ugly mess alive and not significantly maimed. If Kara's uncle couldn't make good use of the toilsome architectural extensions he'd so insisted were built and familiarized with everyone working and living inside the house, than Kara was going make damned sure somebody was going to get some use out of them.
There were three escape passages on the first floor, and a great many more small, hallows in the walls and floors but Kara was hardly as interested in them, her goal was to escape undetected by whoever it was probably still lurking inside the house and cramming herself into a space and oxygen limited hidey-hole for unspecified amount of time wasn't exactly plan number one. So Kara set her hopes on the closest of the three escape passages, which was located in the adjacent room, the poolroom. Ian loved billiards, and could be found, more often than not, silently racking the fine marble balls into their precise place, each painted number facing upwards and gleaming in the warm lighting. Kara never understood it, so much detail and attention devoted to tediously organizing balls for no other purpose than to strew them across the table again. Maybe it was why, despite her uncles best efforts, she never took to the game. Kara could only hope that her uncle's corpse wasn't what waited for her in the next room.
Kara stripped her blood soaked socks silently off her feet and did the best she could to mentally smooth out the wrinkles of her half-baked escape plan, which involved little else than not getting caught, but it would have to do because the longer her feet stayed glued to that gory spot, the easier she could be caught, and that would kinda ruin that whole "wanting to live through this" thing.
Kara cast her blood drenched socks to the blood drenched floor and hesitated for only another split second before slowly, and as quietly as she could manage, making for next room. Her cold feet were immensely relived to finally have something dry and warm under them and the rest of Kara was relived to finally part ways with the bloody mess.
The door to the poolroom wasn't really a door at all, rather a large arch that only added to the rooms more casual design. Kara put her back against the wall and peeked her head in just enough for her left eye to get a quick scan of the wide and shadowy room. Swiftly pulling her head back into the hall she waited for a sound, for a gunshot, for any movement at all that would convince her that the brief glance she had gained of the room was inaccurate, that someone really did lurk in the darkness. No sound, no movement, no shadowy obstruction of the flashing lights of the still muted television that painted the opposite wall, nothing that would suggest she had been detected.
Biting the end of her tongue in a futile attempt to keep her nerves in check, Kara proceeded to creep into the darkened room, her eyes and ears overly sensitive to any slight movement or sound. The warm yellow of the walls was hidden by the darkness and distorted by the eerie white light cast by the toothpaste commercial flickering across the television screen. A woman with a airbrushed face and pristine white smile mouths something but the neon green word MUTE that was imprinted on the top right corner of the ridiculously large screen silenced her. The pure white light the television cast over the room was unflattering at best, it cascaded over the furniture creating eerie contrasts of shadow and light along the walls and floor. Scanning the room fully was only made more difficult through the disorienting busts of light, but Kara managed.
Only after fully establishing that danger wasn't in the immediate area Kara awkwardly rushed as silently as she could to the wall nearest to her. Crouching as stealthily as possible on her shaky legs Kara grouped the bottom of the wall just where it met the soft carpeting, hooking her fingers under the tiny and otherwise completely concealed gaps and with a steady pull loosening a small portion of the wall. Rising to her feet Kara did her best to ignore the harsh burst of freezing night air she'd unleashed as she eased the wall enough to slink her body through the crevice and into the absolute darkness.
Slowly securing the wall back into place Kara's heart leapt with the realization that she was almost free, and as long as she managed to keep from fucking this last bit up she could easily emerge from this horrid mess as unscathed as she had been when she accidentally stumbled upon it. Kara released the pent up shiver she was holding back, a result of the frigid air and muzzled panic she'd been restraining. Her bare feet caked with barely dried blood were so cold they ached, but they were easily ignored Kara blindly felt the first step of the narrow stairway with her almost numb feet. Slowly fumbling down the steep concrete steps until her outstretched hands felt the cold flatness of the basement wall. Kara pressed her shoulder against left side of the wall until she felt it give slightly.
Trying her best to lessen the sharp scrapping noise that inevitably occurred when the bottom of the wall slightly grazed the dirty concrete floor of the empty basement, Kara eased the wall open just enough for her to slip through once again. Kara left the wall open this time, simply seeing no point in making even more racket for nothing. The street light pouring in from the small, flung open basement door painted the floor in a pale, narrow strip gave Kara little pause. Wrapping her arms around her chest attempting to conserve what little body heat she could, she wasted no time in making for the open door, heart leaping more than ever.
But Kara wasn't two steps out of the door when a dry, calloused hand wrapped around her mouth and gruffly jerked her backward. A solid form closed in from behind and Kara went ridged with fear.