Crimson Moon
Chapter 1
Operation: No Face
Did you know that our heart has the ability to pump, if you add electricity to it, many hours after it's dead? It's true. It just depends on how bad you really want to see that blood move. If you attempt hard enough, you might even be able to make someone move. Hell, you could possibly jumpstart someone's brain and bring 'em back to life if you truly set your mind to it. The only question that remains is 'why?' What would be your motivation? How could you consider bringing someone, whose soul is now in some other dimension, back into a life where he would only deteriorate his body, mind, and whatever is in place of his long-lost soul? I don't know. Could it be someone who wants to… I don't know… create something nobody could even think of in his or her wildest nightmares? Would it be a creature so terrifyingly terrible that it would make human beings go blind? Or mad? Or turn their hair white? Could it possibly be a… demon or ghoul of some sort? I don't know. Why should I? Should I have seen this creature that I speak so adamantly about? So what if I have? What if I'm suppressing some evil nightmare that might not even exist? There's nothing you could do about it anyways. No one believes me. I mean, why should they? Someone in my… condition usually wouldn't be taken very seriously. But, fortunately, it's not my fault. They are to blame. The No-Faces. You're probably wondering what the No-Faces are, aren't you? I'm not 100 sure exactly what they are either. All I know is that they are the reason that all of this happened.
Are you still there? Good. I was starting to get a little scared, but it's not like I'm not used to it or anything. Okay, but you must promise me that you will tell the people that I'm not crazy. I'm not a psycho. My little "tale" began when I was in the tenth grade. My parents were really pushing on me to make good grades. None of it mattered to me. It wasn't as if I was some super-genius or anything. Well, that's kind of a matter of opinion. My I.Q. test said that I was in the upper 150s, but you know, intelligence is nothing without the proper wisdom to handle it. Sure, I'm wise, but… at fifteen years old, it's kind of hard to be wise when you have no life experiences. But, that's where scientists are wrong. I have wisdom from hearing all of these stories from my parents about their life experiences. So, anyways, I'm a wise, intelligent fifteen year old whose entire goal in life, at the time, is to collect Green Day posters and to giggle about hot guys. Suddenly, my entire life came crashing to a halt on January 1, 1994. Coming out of a Yellow limousine, there stood a tall, black haired man, who was wearing an orange and green pinstriped zuit-suit, which I found quite odd. Over that zuit-suit, he wore a very heavy looking cloak made of leather and he had an Abraham Lincoln style top hat on his head. He wore very expensive-looking bug-eyed sunglasses. He was carrying a big briefcase that he held to his side. For a second, I thought he was German or Russian, based on his build. Since dad was away on some "business trip," mom and I were alone, so she answered the beckoning call upon our middle-upper class door. My mom attempted to tell him to make himself at home, but he had already decided to take it upon himself. He walked right on in, carrying that big, black briefcase. He had just put his strange top hat and heavy cloak on the rack beside the door. I had been standing across the hall the whole time, so I gave my mother a glance of dismay and confusion and all she did was shrug her shoulders, as if to say, "I'm as clueless as you are." After he set down his briefcase onto the table, I saw him apply a combination to one of the biggest combination locks (on a briefcase anyways) that I've ever seen. Finally, after clicking a bunch of latches on the briefcase, he got out a bunch of papers. I tried to get a peak at the papers, but it's kind of hard to look at papers when you are in an entirely different room. After he had finished rifling through the documents, it had startled me when he began to speak in an accent that I've never heard before. His English was very rusty. "Hullo. I believe know why here. I here for Recall of daughter." What surprised me even more was when she understood what he was talking about. "Oh, Okay! You're here for that! She is right here in the kitchen; I'll be right back. Roxanna, Roxanna honey, where are you?" As I backed against the wall, I tripped over a chair, which just happened to be in my way. My mind was racing. What are they talking about? Who is he? Why does he want ME of all people? "Roxanna Lain, where are you? This is important. Quit hiding from me; you know that annoys me! She'll be here in just a second. Your English has gotten quite better. Have you been practicing?" My chest started to hurt. Everything went foggy and blurry. Why was she speaking to him as if he were some long-lost friend? She called after me another time, but I wasn't able to hear a word of it. I fell to the ground. Bright lights grew dim around my face. I saw my life flash before my eyes. Every happy (and sad) memory flooded into my fast-fading mind. Instantly, I think part of me died. While I was asleep, my mother stood over me and said, "There you are, Roxie! I knew you wouldn't fight me. You don't have to knock her out, she's already asleep."
As I felt my eyes open, I was in this laboratory-type place where I was strapped to a cold, steel table. Tubes, filled with brightly colored chemicals that were being pumped into me, filled every opening of my body. All I can remember thinking is "Where am I and how do I get out of here?" I looked around and tried to figure out where I was. There wasn't even a window in here. Well, it would make sense, wouldn't it? I mean, if you were going to participate in something (apparently) very illegal, you wouldn't want some nosy neighbors spying, would you? Nothing in this room could even give me a clue as to where I was. Except that I knew that I had to be in some remote location, like Area 51 or something. I noticed that the computers were much more technologically advanced than any of the ones that are on commercials or in any magazines. I couldn't have been in someone's garage or some place like that; wherever I was, I knew it was either not on earth or in some place that these people would have access to technological geniuses who produce all of this stuff based on these sick peoples' whims. Next to some of these cool computers, with a code I couldn't decipher in a million years, stood some of those German looking guards, like the one that came to my house. They were apparently arguing about something, because I heard one of them slam their fist on another metal table-with another kid strapped to it. As I attempted at sitting up as far as I could, I saw row upon row of others around my age. Some of which I knew. There was Diana Delgado. Over on the far left was Percy Johansen. Next to one of the German-looking officers was… no, it couldn't be: Damon Neilson! Never would I have guessed that a hunk could be a… well, we'll leave that for later. Then, the German-looking guards began to walk amongst us, apparently trying to see if we were awake or not. The guards next to the computers were still arguing and pointing at the computer monitors. The hairs on my neck and arms stood on end as a bigger fellow passed me by. There was definitely something not right about these "people." When the bigger dude saw my eyes flicker, he jumped and in that weird language said something to his buddies. Then, all I remember were these doctor type people injecting me with some kind of chemical that made me get really sleepy.
Yet again, I woke up into a place that was a little odd. It looked like the kiddy-section of the library. There were little colored tables with small colored chairs that matched. Surrounding the chair I awoke in were towering bookcases filled with childhood classics like Peter Pan and Robin Hood. Around one of the round, red tables, six ex-cons were sitting as if they expected something. The one to the very far left was Gerkov "The Slicer" Hellscream. He murdered thirty people with the same scythe in the same day. What was so different about his murder,' is that he drugged them with the same type of drugs used for a Caesarean Section, and then he opened their lower abdomen. While they were still very much conscious, he pulled out their organs, still bleeding and leaking, including the heart, and showed them to the victims. As the oozing flesh was pushed into the limited time frame of the victims, he laughed as they died with fear etched onto their eyes. The heart was usually still beating. Now, the brain can live approximately twenty seconds without blood or oxygen, so the victims knew exactly what was going on. You're probably wondering how he got a hold on some of this stuff. Well, he was a certified surgeon, which made him a more sufficient killer for his prey. The Johns Hopkins University of Medical Science is what drove him to these gruesome, psychologically damaging mutilations. Raped and tormented by the many disturbed professors, he learned to hate with a loathing that no one else could fathom. One by one, he murdered each and every single lecturer that ever set foot in that school. When they eventually caught this madman, his mission was already accomplished. He had hidden his tracks so magnificently that he pseudo-turned himself in after he was done with the "job." They only found three of the alleged thirty bodies, which were defiled and desecrated by this maniac. One was Mary Pool, another was Leanne Jakes, and the last was David Spooner. They were all found in different dumpsters at different coordinating schools all over the world. He was finally caught for trying to break Julian Sanchez out of prison.
Beside Hellscream was Landhi Hucheis, the most wanted terrorist across the globe. Superbly, he earned his degree in human anatomy at the Johns Hopkins University in Iraq to become a more efficient killer. In Desert Storm, he demonstrated this ability by becoming one of the main insurgents who bombed American soldiers. He beheaded, tortured, burned, poisoned, gassed, raped, and did whatever else to over three- hundred thousand Middle Eastern civilians and American soldiers. The most common of these was usually him, his mercenaries, and comrades raping and killing the children, whilst the others poisoned American soldiers with the HIV/AIDS virus and spilt their insides into the nearest water sources. If they so much as sipped a drink of water, the tainted blood would make sure they were all of them doomed to an eternity of horrible diseases and medication that they would never be able to afford. This evil, rotten-to-the-core man was ruthless and unrelenting. The instant they got back on their feet, him and his little friends would go right back in and do practically the same thing, just with a different twist usually. Indeed, he made his point so clear (that he was a callous bastard) that he murdered one of his many wives to save his own hide. See, one of the biggest problems with this dude was the fact that although he was cruel, pitiless pond scum, he was and is a coward. Born a sissy, raised into wimp-hood. Well, no one had even heard from him until I had seen him in that room.
Across from Landhi sat Julian Sanchez. Once, about twenty years ago, he was an almost world-renowned drug lord. Born in Guatemala, he learned to farm some of the greatest marijuana and cocaine plants in the world. Back since the times of the openly practiced Native Americans, marijuana has always been a hallucinogen. When he immigrated over to America in the early 1940s, security was very laidback. Young Sanchez was able to sneak through the searchers, including the dogs, with over 200 Kilos of coke and 100 Kilos of dope. Then, and even now, that was a huge amount of drugs. That was what he used to start his gargantuan empire. Pretty soon, he owned the police, the hospitals, the airports: everything. He could import and/or export any type of drug at will. With all of his money, he decided to go to the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine to do something more with his life and to help refine the "Beautiful effects of drugs and their properties." Eventually, he was top dog in America. Even Mob bosses looked up to him for drugs and protection. Everything was going in plan. What could possibly go wrong? Well, the only thing that could go wrong did. He was going through the Italian mob to get a hit on a crooked dealer (all dealers are crooked, just more so in this dude). The hit man, Landhi Hucheis, had other plans. In a last attempt to screw him over for a bad drug deal, Hucheis decided to take matters into his own hands. He called a nearby police station stating that he knew exactly where and when Sanchez would be at. The authorities transferred his call over to a government agency totally designed for finding Sanchez and putting him in prison. Now, if he were in the "pen", he would not be able to make any more money on drug deals or hits. His colleagues were very disgruntled about this "anonymous tip". So, one of their former "employees", Hellscream, decided to break him out. He had already committed the gruesome mutilations of over thirty people, so what could they possibly do other than put him in prison. In the attempt, he got caught and put into prison (that's how they found him; he still confessed all the same though) and Sanchez got twenty more years for supposed "Aiding and Abetting."
The chair on the left of Julian sat Miles Carson. He's not even a man. More like pond scum is he. I don't even think he was born, just… spontaneously arrived on this planet as a pedophile and rapist. Anyways, he was one of the most vile, disturbed, and evil men ever to set foot in recorded history. He violated and killed 27 women and 16 children out of cold brutality. The rapes were never very pretty, (well, what rapes are?) just filled with rage, violence, and usually lots and lots of blood. His latest and last victim was Tracy Evans, a professor at Johns Hopkins School of Medicine. Not much else is known about him except that he was molested and raped by his mother and father at a very young age. Unfortunately for him, he had nobody to talk to, so he turned out to be a pretty creepy dude. Nobody can really blame him for what he did, so you got to feel pretty sorry for him, don't you? He pled insanity in his case and instead of going to prison, he went to an insane asylum for many, many years. After the courts determined that unusual experiments were underway on his brain, he was sent to a normal prison. They never figured out exactly what they had done to him, but rumors suggested that it had something to do with planting maggot eggs inside of his skull and letting them hatch to see if they would eat the "off-balance" parts of the brain. The variables that they probably knew about took place; the maggots just gave him a very bad infection and the baby flies ate the diseased tissue. Then, they decided to see what would happed if they applied electrodes to certain sections of the brain, including the frontal lobe and cerebellum. As they figured, it didn't work. Many more experiments were rumored, but I won't say them for they are too gruesome; use your imagination.
Everyone has some sort of obsession. Bugs may fascinate some people so they collect them. Others are compulsive buyers therefore purchase many clothes. Valerie Steubans' obsession was fire. When she was six years' old, she burnt down the apartment complex, where she lived, to the ground. At thirteen, she started a fire in the abandoned art room at her Jr. high school. In her adult years, she started the fires that rocked our world; The Great Fire of San Francisco and New York City. She ended hundreds of thousands of lives on that dreadful day in 1992. What got her finally put behind bars was a deal between her and the one of the greatest drug lords of our time, Julian Sanchez. She was given orders to smolder down a facility, which was working against his drug deals. Happy to do something she thoroughly loved, she took the three hundred thousand dollar pact and headed for London, England with open arms. In London, she was supposed to burn down the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine because of their research on drugs and drug related things. On her way there, she was arrested on an anonymous tip, which soon turned out to be from the sadistic, insane "lover", Jean Rainier, also known as "Casanova the 2nd."
Across from Valerie, by far the all time worst human being to ever walk the planet was seated. Jean Rainier, also known as "Casanova the 2nd", was a slight bit different from the rest of the crazed maniacs. As a child, as most of these stories begin, he was smart, gifted, special. His parents pushed him to strive to be all that he could be. He was a straight-"A" student-for a couple of years. Once he entered his eighth-grade year of Jr. high School, he realized he had a knack for attracting girls. It was a gift that he was very proud of and held in very high esteem. Unfortunately, it led to his demise. At an older age, around eleventh-grade, he started to take advantage of women. He played with their emotions, tricked them into deceiving everyone they loved-including themselves. Gradually he climbed higher and higher up the pole, until he finally reached the end of it. He had bent his mind until it broke. In his later years, he did practically all the same things, just he changed it around a little bit. By then, he had a pretty good idea of how to kill and to kill well. He only picked particular women: Women with black hair and blue eyes with a voluptuous build. They had to have an outgoing and funny personality. He'd watch them for a couple of days, maybe weeks, planning out his every step, every little move. When he'd stalk them for a couple of days, he'd make his carefully calculated idea a reality for him and the unsuspecting victim. When he would capture them, he would usually rape them a couple of times and then kill them. After a while, he got tired of just raping and killing women; he decided to make it a little more interesting. On one occasion, instead of murdering his victim first off, he starved her. He tried to make her into the "perfect" image, in his own eyes. After he starved her until the point where she started having seizures, he removed the parts of her brain, which allowed her to not have any more spasms, or any other movements for that matter. He made sure to avoid the places that controlled involuntary actions like breathing and heartbeats. She was still alive. He technically hadn't killed her yet. After quite some time of raping her four of five times a day, he noticed that she wasn't staying clean the way she should. She was starting to decay even though she was alive. Sickened by the thought of that, he decided to wrap her in cellophane, (while she was alive, by the way) a highly air tight plastic which is designed to preserve-or kill. The only opening left uncovered was that of her genital region, for reasons you can probably understand. She was obviously dead by then. He kept her for a couple more weeks and then decided to dump her. I think the creepiest part of that is not the killing, but the psychological damage he must have to interact with this shell like it was still alive. He fed her, clothed her, and participated in weird activities, like sunbathing, while she was dead. When he was asked why he did these horrible things to these poor, innocent women, he responded with, "Women love me so much that they'd die to have me." After that, he was put into the same mental hospital that Miles Carson visited. He knew all of the scientific and medical information because of the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine in London, England.
Now, as I sat there, thinking about all of the evil things that these people had done, I'd wondered why the heck I was there. What could these people possibly want with me? What do they all have in common? Ah! Wait a minute! I might've found something, hadn't I? I found out that they all had at least two things in common: One; they all knew each other one way or another. Two: they all had something to do with the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine. So, what was the point? Why were they all cooped up in this little kiddy-library? I didn't understand. But then, it hit me: my mother went to the same university as they all had in common with. But why didn't they kidnap my mom? I thought that they were all a little coo-coo. Casablanca decided to speak to me. "Hey little one. You are very pretty. What is your name?" When I didn't reply, Miles spoke up and asked, "Well, aren't you going to answer him? I'd really like to know as well. I agree with him that you are pretty, and I don't want to go around calling you 'little girl'." Shyly, I replied 'Roxie'. All of the men laughed and hooted, while Casablanca said, "That's beautiful, just like you and your soul. I'd really love to get to know you better." I knew his tricks. Although it flattered me, I knew it was just the scorpion and the swan routine; it was what he was designed to do. While I tried to stand, Valerie spoke up in a very strong southern accent: "Don't you's worry 'bout them geek-wads. All they's out to do is to get yer' goat. They's do that to me all the friggin' time. Wanna be me friend, partner?" I nodded my head very fast, in the hopes of gaining an ally; they're always good in situations like these. "Good, little one. Say's, wus yo name? I wuss'n payin' much 'tention when they's asked you." Silently I replied with the word 'Roxanna'. "Well, the name's Valerie, nice meetin' yo." I attempted to stand once again, but to know avail. I decided to just sleep and pray to wake up in my own room. They had been very quiet while I was awake, apparently silently wondering whom I was and where I was from.
After I'd fallen asleep, I could still hear them. A conscious part of me was still awake. I heard a voice say, "Les' catch that perty black hair on far'. Instantly, I awoke and stood with no problem. While I walked around looking for an exit, Gerkov told me that there was no exit. I wanted to be sure myself. After I walked past three bookcases next to the red table, I saw a window. Unfortunately, there was nothing outside the window. When I say nothing, I mean NOTHING! Absolute darkness surrounded the (possibly) unbreakable Plexiglas. I turned around and followed my steps back to the blue table. I sat down in silence and hoped that the room would stay in silence.
A couple of hours later, my stomach was cramping and growling so loud that I was sure everyone else could hear it. I asked what was for chow around here and Julian said, "Well, the No-Faces bring the food." As though Casanova could read my mind, he answered my question. "The No-Faces are the "people" who keep us locked up in the Library of the Lost. We can never get out. We can never get in. Millions of people have wondered what this place is; I personally had never heard of it before in my life until I encountered it myself. Pondering that silently to myself, I remember a fairy tale that I had heard when I was a little kid.
Once, there was a child who wanted to have friends. He didn't have any one who liked him, not even his parents. He kept dreaming and dreaming for friends, until finally, someone came up to him and told him he could have his wish. When the boy asked him his name, he just told him to call him No-Face. So, the boy and No-Face became friends. No-Face told him that he could make him get friends. When the boy asked how, he told him that he needed to come back to his lab and let him do some experiments. Now, this child was about eight years old, so he said yes. No-Face led him back to his huge laboratory and began to run some psychological experiments on him. As the boy described, he had plugs in his body. The plugs were filled with every color of the rainbow and they constantly pumped the rainbow inside of him, making him happy and more friendly-like. After a while, these people who spoke in an unusual language took him into a children's library filled with some very interesting people. One was a hunter. One was a fire lover. Another one was a "medicine" peddler. One was a lover of many women. One was a mercenary. And the last one was a heretic. All of them had done some very bad things in their lives, and they were all stuck in this library with this innocent little kid. The child had to learn how to get along with these people and figure out a way to escape. According to No-Face, this was the way to learn how to make friends. So, one by one, they all formulated plans to leave this place. The walls were all made of stone, and the windows were a form of unbreakable glass. There seemed to be no way to get out. But, they all put their differences aside and put all of their knowledge together to help each other escape.
My mom didn't know the rest of the story, so she didn't tell me the rest. I didn't know how that could possibly help me now, but I was bound and determined to figure it out. The part that I remembered the most was about the bad people putting their knowledge together to formulate a plan to escape. I guess that this was my mom's way of helping me get friends. There's a part of me that wants to believe that little children's tale, but I can't find it in myself to buy that load of crap. So, then I tried to get to know my now roommates.
Chapter 2
A Hope to Escape
"Well, Garsh dern it, wer' trapped in her for evers, aren' we?" "I do not know. All I know is that that Roxanna is very attractive. Have you seen her black, shining hair, Julian?" "I don't care very much. I'm just trying to figure out a way to call my buds for help. Unfortunately, those people stole my phone." I woke up to Valerie, Jean, and Julian all discussing different subjects. Jean was in a very… particular mood this morning, or at least I think it's morning. Valerie isn't much of a cheerer-upper. And as for Julian, well, I think he's the most civilized of the lot. I haven't discussed much with Landhi or Miles. I don't really want to either. As for Hellscream, well, I'm kind of afraid of him. I start to discuss the old fairy tale that my mother told me, when Landhi interrupts me and says, "You expect us to try something based on a freaking fairy tale? You gotta be out of your mind. Ain't no way I'm going to go along with this bull milk. Are you five going to?" "The only two who even considered this were Julian and Jean. "I don't know, Landhi. The pretty girl has got a point. We might just want to go along with it. Besides, what have we got to lose?" Then, Julian finally came to my rescue, right after Jean. "Jean's got a point. We don't really have anything to lose, and we don't have any other plans, so…" "Well, I think yo all out of yer friggin min's. I agrah wit Landhi. Hes gotta gerd poin'. I ain't gonna take sum goodie-goodie gurls' idear." Then, I piped up, "Anybody else got any ideas?" They all got really quiet, and then I finished, "This story talked about the No-Faces and the rainbow-colored chemicals and everything. It described it down to a pin. What else can we do? We all have to stick together and figure this out. Do any of you know how to break through concrete or do something that can help us?" "I know how to kill a man with my fingers. Will that help?" I just looked at Landhi for a second, chewing on what he just said. Just then, I got a great idea. "Listen up. I just got a spectacular idea." "O' listern to da Big Shot. She know berg werds like "Sperctacular." "Oh, shut up Valerie and listen to what the pretty girl has got to say." "Thank you, Jean. Now, anyways, I've got a great idea. Now, I've been scouting this place out, and I found out that the door that the No-Faces come through has got a lock on it. Now, what I figure is that we can kill one of the No-Faces and they're bound to have a key on them somewhere. We can use the chair legs to hit any No-Faces that we encounter. Does anybody have any questions?" "Yah, wernever we's gert to da exit, what'er we gonna use as shelter? An' what happerns when we erncounters a door that we can' barsh open? We's gonna bern't down?" "Ahhh… Uhhh…" I didn't have any ideas as to how we were going to get shelter or how we would open another door. Just then, to my rescue (yet again), Jean made some good suggestions. "Roxanna, you use Bobby Pins to pull your hair back, right?" "Ah, yes. Yes I do." "Do you think we could use that as a lock pick if Landhi here knew how to pick a lock?" "Yes, that's a superb idea." "Big Sho-" "Shut up, Valerie. Anyways, do you also think that we could use several of the No-Faces bodies to make warmth and a shelter for ourselves?" I, yet again, pondered the thought of that. "Well, it would be fine, but how would we lug those big bodies around? For all we know, we could be thousands of miles underground, or we could be on another planet for that matter. That's not really practical." Jean kind of got an ashamed look on his face and then I said, "Hey, it was still a great idea. I couldn't have thought of better myself." That really made his day.
We sat there for hours, it felt, trying to formulate a plan to escape. Nothing was coming to me. All that we had was killing one of the No-Faces and stealing its' keys. I just kept right on thinking about possible solutions. We couldn't break through the walls because there was nothing on the other side. We couldn't use the books for any practical purpose other than biding our time. The chairs weren't very helpful; they're only designed for sitting in, so we wouldn't really do any thing with them. We could've cut the table in half and put the two halves together to make a hole. No, that doesn't actually work in real life. I just couldn't seem to come up with something, when Landhi told me something that could've been very handy. "My mother and father in Iraq were concrete pourers. They taught me how to break through concrete, or in this case brick, with minimal necessary supplies. Would you like me to help you?" I was a bit dumbfounded. This man, a complete stranger (not to mention terrorist) was offering me help to get out of this sticky situation. "Yes, I would appreciate that greatly. Does anybody else have any experience in concrete?" Everybody looked at Miles. I didn't know why at first, but unfortunately, I found out why. "Ummm… I put all of the bodies into concrete coffins and put them at the bottom of a lake." At first, I was sickened, but then I realized that it was in the past and that I really needed help right now, no matter whom it came from. "Okay, did you actually pour the concrete?" "No, I got one of my buddies to help pour it for me. Of course I did, you freaking moron. Are you going to ask me now if I remember how to break the concrete? After all, it is one of the first lessons you get whenever someone teaches you how to pour concrete." "So, do you remember?" "Yes, but I can't break it the way that Landhi probably can. I can assist, but I can't do it by myself." After that, I just kind of sat there and thought about all of the possible outcomes of this particular expedition. On one hand, we could get away with no problems and no trouble from anyone. On the other hand, we could find out that we're buried thousands of miles underground. That would explain why I couldn't see anything outside of the window. "I'm starting to reconsider the whole 'breaking through the wall' idea. If we are buried underground, dirt or sand or something will instantly start filling in this room. That could suck." Then, Carson spoke up. "Well, what else can we do? We might as well take our chances with the wall. If what I think is correct, we're going to die anyways. We should die trying to escape." I didn't entirely agree with his philosophy. "Is there any way we can find out if we are buried underground?" Landhi gave me his input. "Well, I guess we could listen to the walls to see if there is any movement or sound on the other side." "What could that accomplish?" I wondered out loud. " We would know if we are buried or not. But, there is a good chance that the walls are thick enough to where we could not hear a thing." I had already considered this, but I acted like I had never even thought about that. "Hmmm. Well, that is a fascinating approach, but… I was thinking of something more precise. That was when Valerie said something that was very helpful. "Les all get us sum res. Our brins carn funtion more when wer
res'ed." I was so relieved when she said that, because I was pretty tuckered out.
When I fell asleep that "night," I dreamt of some very odd stuff. I had a dream that we all tried to escape. Landhi had killed about thirty of the No-Faces, with his bare hands mind you. Carson had helped me to break a room on the far left corner at the end of a corridor. The room that we were in had an eerie silence to it. We studied the surrounding environment. This room contained several big pieces of equipment with big flashing buttons all over it. There were several heart monitors and lots of, what looked like, dead people laying on the same steel tables that I had awoke on. They all looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place their faces. I noticed that they were plugged up with a bunch of chemicals and several different monitors and computers. When I saw a No-Face with his back towards me, Carson and I decided to duck into the shadows to not be seen but to see as well. The "engineer" No-Face had a huge syringe in his hand (did I forget to mention that I am absolutely afraid of needles?) and was walking towards one of the corpses. I saw a mixed expression of glee and confusion on Carson's face. Just then I remembered where I had seen these people. They were on the news, being reported as the latest victims of several serial killers, rapists, etc. These were all of Casanova's, Julian's, Miles', Landhi's, and Valerie's victims. I was horrified by the events that were taking place on these poor, violated excuses of humanity. The No-Face plunged the syringe into the corpses' heart and it came to life with a blood-curdling scream. It arose in its defiled majesty and began to walk in full circles around the table. It stopped liken to a jolt of electricity. My eyes brimmed with tears as watched the inhumanity the fell upon these poor souls. I finally realized where the No-Faces came from. These pitiful beings were being brought back to life, and still decaying with filth no one could fathom in their lifetime. I could only imagine the amount of pain these beings must be in. Then, I saw him. Standing there with his hooded cloak and demonic grin plastered upon his face, I saw him. I saw the man who I had only seen in my deepest, darkest nightmares. He had haunted my mind until it nearly broke. Then, I drew the connection. All of the people that I was with had minds that had been broken. All of them: Carson, Hucheis, Steuban, Sanchez, Reinier, Hellscream; every last one of them. They were all haunted by him as well-and he had found us. Individually. Separately. Specially.
I moved, because my foot had begun to fall asleep. I had accidentally knocked over a monitor and it sparked and sputtered on the ground about a foot from where I was sitting. The new No-Face heard the crash and began limping in my direction. He grabbed a bone saw off of one of the nearby tables and revved it higher and higher, louder and louder and then he started back in the path towards me. I started to run, but I tripped on what of the numerous electrical cords that were strung out on the cold, hard ground. As I tried to free my ankle from the unrelenting trap, he shuffled closer and closer towards me. Then, he got so close that I could smell the rotting flesh that hung bare on his bones. Carson was already long gone, probably away with the others, trying to find a way to escape. But it was over for me. It didn't take a psychic to figure that one out. He outstretched one, bony hand that clasped so tightly around my neck that I could feel the blood pounding ever so hard in my face. He brought me so close to his face that I could make out every wrinkle. Every cut. Every scar. I could even smell his rancid breath, pouring out its putrid vapor onto my skin. He revved the bone saw one last time. He put it to my hair, and then I woke up. It was a very intense dream. Then, I knew exactly what I needed to escape.
Chapter 3
All I Needed to Know
The next morning, after the dream, I discussed the dream (in very brief detail) to my "roommates". We sat down and started to attempt to formulate a plan. This is how it went:
1. Landhi would take one of my hairpins and fashion it into the form
of a lockpick. We would then wait for the No-Face who brings
breakfast.
2. The No-Face would come into the room, carrying his Chicken ala
Crap on a tray, then Landhi and Hellscream would jump him and
take whatever was of use on him. Valerie wanted to catch him on
"far", but that seemed a bit overkill, so we decided not to do that.)
3. Landhi and Julian would use the lockpick (hopefully, the No-Face
would have a key-ring, or something on him, but... just in case)
on the door.
4. We would then go down the long corridor, looking for the lab
that I had dreamt of. Since it was the only familiar place outside
of the kiddy-library, it made sense.
5. And after that, we'd play it by ear.
So, we made the plan out and decided to follow it to the letter, when an obstacle came at us that we didn't forsee. A human served us breakfast that morning. What were we to do? We couldn't have very well attacked a fellow human being, considering that we hadn't seen one in such a very long time. We decided to "appeal" to his undeniable human instincts.
Julian decided to play a little mobster head game with him. "Hello, sir. I believe that you owe us our breakfast, do you not? And, my my my, you sure do know how to carry those trays. Listen, let me ask you something. I need a favor. Can you give me some of your expert information on the things that go on around here. I would be glad to repay you with something you could not refuse." He pointed over in my direction and winked. I was a little ecstatic when he did that, because, well, you know that fifteen year olds have needs also.
I smiled and winked over in his direction. He licked his lips and had a hunger in his eyes that scared me-- and enticed me. He walked over my way and said over to Julian, "Whatever you need you can count on me," and then
he held me into a tight embrace, ground his hips against mine, and then he
locked his lips around my, shoving his tongue down my throat, searching, delving, trying to find it's way inside of me.