Dr. Vincent Davi's legs pumped as hard as they possibly could.
The fear pounding at his panicked mind was nearly as loud as his
heart pounding in his chest. He had found the security guard, damn,
what was his name, Fox, he had found Fox about fifteen minutes ago and
the pair had been running ever since. Fox had a dead grip on Davi's
bony shoulder, using the frail scientist for as much support as he
could possibly provide as he limped along. They had been running from
the blue eyed boy for seemingly an eternity.
"C-can we stop yet?!" wheezed the sniveling scientist.
Security officer Warren Fox responded only with a primal grunt followed
by a slight nod. Although Fox was the injured one, Davi collapsed
onto the shiny flooring, his tiny body sucking in ragged gasps of air.
Fox scowled at the pathetic little bug and turned to his wounds. The
blue eyed boy had slashed at him quite a few times, his jacket was
stained with furious red lines. Underneath, the wounds were at least
four or five inches past the break in the skin. Fox was a stout,
bulky troll of a man, standing at little over 5'7'' with booming biceps
and pectoral muscles and a prominant gut slightly sagging over his
belt. His grey hair was kept short in a clean cut flattop and he had a
strong, muscular jaw. Vincent Davi, on the other hand, was probably
at least 5'5'' and what seemed to be a mere 100 pounds. He had timid,
mouse-like features with big searching eyes and scanty strands of black
hair brushing the collar of his shirt. His skin was a pale tan and
absolutely screamed sickly. His white lab coat was damp with stains of
sweat and his yellow dress shirt underneath was dotted with spilled
coffee stains, obvious signs of Davi's sleepless work habits. Davi's
whiny voice chimed in, biting at Fox's throbbing head. "So, what do we
do now?" Fox ignored the comment and propped his back against the
wall, popping out the silver cylinder from his .44. The golden shells
fell to the ground, clinging and clanging as the scientist repeated
himself. "Hey, pal, are you alright up there? You liss'ning?" Fox's
thick fingers clamped down on one of the gleaming bullets, returning it
to its home inside of the cylinder. "C'mon quit fucking around and
answer me!" Warren snapped the cylinder shut, leaving the other five
bullets on the ground. "Speak up man!!"
"Shut the hell up and listen to me." Davi immediately reeled
back at Fox's sudden answer. His large eyes were focused on the gun.
"That thing is going to get us, right?" Davi bit at his lip and
solemnly nodded. He wiped his sweat covered palms on his coat. "Then
what exactly do you suppose we do?" Warren began to tap the gun's
silver barrel against his knee, the monotonous tapping becoming
explosions in Davi's frantic brain. He stuttered on his words and
finally spat out an answer.
"I-ah..Uh, I just don't, I don't know man. I don't know what,
don't know what to do." Fox's eyes pinched shut upon hearing Davi and
brought the gun close to his face. He admired the firearm, staring at
it, a small hint of salvation in his tired eyes.
"Well then I know what I'll be doing." Fox clenched his teeth
around the barrel, pushing the scientist's sudden screams out of his
mind with the squeeze of the trigger.
--------------------
Davi screamed and shielded his eyes with his scrawny forearm as
Fox's finger tightened on the trigger. A mist of red leapt onto Davi
after the shot rang off, chunks of the late security guard's skull
peppering his now red and white coat. As if on cue, a door at the end
of the blood spattered hallway opened and Vincent's soul was pierced by
the boy's blue eyes. He scrambled towards Fox's headless corpse,
juggling the smoking gun in his shaking hands. "Shit, one bullet!!"
His attention swung over to the five bullets laying next to Fox's leg.
His hand shot downwards, grabbing about three of the five. Two of
the bullets dropped from his quivering grip as one finally made it into
the gun's chamber. "Fuck, shit how the hell do I use this thing?!"
He pulled back the hammer and, with both hands tightly gripping the
gun's handle, pointed up at the blue eyed boy, only to find that the
gun's shuddering barrel was facing nothing but air. Blue eyes was
gone, he had somehow vanished. Slowly bringing himself back onto his
feet, Davi shuffled down the hall towards the boy's previous location.
He screamed as he felt the boy's syringe-like fingers stab into the
small of his back. The other four followed in unison, jabbing into
Davi's spine. Davi took off running, feeling the fingers tear from his
back. His screams did not cease as he ran down towards the door, a
steady stream of urine soaking the legs of his pants. The man's
shrieks were immediately cut off when one of the boy's fingers tore
through the back of his neck, shredding through his spinal cord,
impaling through his windpipe and finally poking out through his neck.
He blacked out and died choking on his own blood.
--------------------
Numb and bruised, Noah's fists stopped bashing against the
pantry door - Nobody was coming to let him out. "I can't believe this,
betrayed and locked up by my own goddamn team." He began to pace back
and forth with what walking room he had in the tiny prison. Sanity
quickly depleting, Noah felt his windpipe begin to tighten. He was
having far too much trouble breathing. The room's walls seemed to be
closing in tighter and tighter, Noah's claustrophobia worsening and
worsening with each passing second. In an attempt to take his mind off
of the situation at hand, he decided to look at the contents of the
shelves. He read the labels of the boxes and cans aloud to himself,
trying to bide time. "Wheat and Bran Oatmeal, Cinammon Apple Granola
Bars, Briscott Saltine Crackers, Keebler Club Crackers (TM), Chicken
Noodle Soup, Tomato Soup..." Noah picked up a packaged loaf of Wonder
Bread, squeezing the soft bread in his hands. He had always loved the
stuff when he was a little kid, eating almost nothing but PB & J
sandwiches, getting the bread caught on the roof of his mouth. Noah
sat down, leaning his back against one of the shelves and began to
search all of his pockets, looking for something, ANYTHING that could
get him out of this hellhole. Everything was gone, his knife, his
bombs, his guns, everything. Realizing that everything for him was
utterly stuck in the shitter, Noah screamed to himself, "God, why
couldn't they have left me with SOMETHING?! I'd rather die than be
stuck in here. I just wanna DIE!!"
"I can help you with that."
A female voice had intruded the sanctity of his own mind, not
even his thoughts were his own anymore. Noah stood up, scanning the
room. Too terrified to speak, Noah grabbed one of the tin cans of
tomato soup from the shelf, arming himself with the only thing he
could. The sounds of chunks of the wall tearing shredded the silence
as a chunk of wall connected to an airvent cover launched itself from
the wall, hitting Noah in the head with a sickening THUD. Almost
positive that his skull was now dented, Noah directed his groggy,
blurred vision towards the direction of the flying vent cover. He
started to scream as soon as he saw the slender, feminine, ivory leg
covered with blackened veins slide out of the vent.
--------------------
Seth had agreed to stay behind in the kitchen while the others
made one final rescue search of the lab facility. He paced back and
forth in the decimated kitchen, bored and tired. His fingers wrapped
around the blackened handle of the refridgerator door, leaving black
ash on Seth's ungloved hands as he opened it, which was quickly
brushed off upon his vest. Exploring the contents of the fridge, Seth
snagged a bottle of water and kicked the fridge shut. Seth's dry,
peeling lips thanked him as the crisp water cascaded down his
dehydrated throat. He placed the bottle on one of the kitchen's many
now blackened counters and ventured towards what remained of the oven
and of the creature Zach had obliterated. He focused on its head,
which was now a crispy blackened skull with a gaping mouth which was
far too big. Its eyes had rolled back in their sockets, leaving only
white crisscrossed with red veins. A small tinkle caught Seth's
attention from the side of the creature's head, behind where its ear
would have been. It was a tiny dogtag, embedded in the monster's head.
He knelt down and read aloud, "Alicia Grey, test subject A, codenamed
Pestilence." The rest was just some vital statistics garbage, height,
weight, etc. "Alicia Grey." Seth repeated the name to himself. As
if the idea had struck him like an arrow, he suddenly realized, "This
has to be Sean's sis." The pride that previously had filled Seth from
his discovery had quickly become guilt and pity. "At least they're
with each other now." Seth uttered a small prayer to himself before
his heart jumped into his throat upon hearing a raspy scream from
Noah's pantry prison cell. Instinctively, he grabbed his radio.
--------------------
The five explorers returned breathless upon hearing Seth's
radio message. Em's brow was lined with a firm layer of sweat and Lyle
was nearly panting. "What's going on Seth, what's happened?!"
"First of all, technically, our mission here is complete." A
chorus of questions barraged Seth upon hearing this situation changing
news. "I found the person who we came here to rescue."
"Sean's little sister?! Where'd you find her Seth, where is
she?! Take us to her!" screamed Grace with joy yet tension. Seth
did nothing more than direct the team to Pestilence's charred corpse
with the aid of his index finger. "The fuck...what are you talkin'
about bro?!" Without words, Seth walked over to Pestilence and tapped
at the embedded dogtag with the barrel of his pistol. Lyle stooped
over the twisted head and read the dogtag's contents to the team.
"Alicia Grey. Test Subject A. Codenamed Pestilence. Age: 16.
Hair: Red. Height..." Lyle faded off, realizing the rest of the data
was nothing but irrelevant.
"That's not all. Come here." Seth walked to the now terribly
dented pantry door and kicked it open. The sheer brutality of the
room had an obvious instant affect on everyone, save Seth. Elizabeth
turned and began to vomit, Lyle turned his head in shock, Em shouted a
symphony of curses and slurs, Grace closed her eyes and recited The
Lord's Prayer, while Zach simply stood dumbstruck.
The once medically clean silver room was now almost totally
splattered red. Not one bit of Noah was still attached, fingers and toes
were splayed about on the shelves and floor whilst entrails and
appendage-less limbs sat in a grosteque pile. In the middle of the
room, completely untouched by the blood on its own little clean
island sat Noah's clothing, his vest, undershirt, pants, all neatly folded
and on top of each other with his boots on top, almost similar to how
a mother would lay out her child's clothing for the oncoming day. A
gaping hole sat in the top corner of the room, near the ceiling.
Stretched across the hole and pinned to the sides was Noah's peeled
off face, its eye sockets, nostrils, and mouth now black from the
orifice behind it. A gruesome message was written to the commandos
on the ceiling in red, dripping blood near the hole with Noah's face.
The blood spelled out "INNOCENT."