Chapter IX

In My Head

The elevator actually managed to be there. Pleasant fucking surprise but one I'm eternally grateful for. Once I pushed enough buttons to randomly decide what floor I'd get off on, as the doors opened, I ran in the nearest room. No locker. No bed. Nowhere to hide. Sure enough, I could hear the whirring off in the distance but not for long. He was definitely coming to investigate the floor. He must've waited to see what floor I got off on. If I had something to match his power tool….

Chloe ran to the next room with a door, finding a bed and before he could spot her, she closed the door quietly and ducked under the bed. The noise of death grew closer further down the hall and she knew she would have to wait it out. Patience wasn't exactly a forte of hers when it came to getting what she wanted. And right now, this friendly gentleman was keeping her a meal in another kitchen in another ward. And who knew what the conditions were like? Hence, her impatience. Her small body on its left side, left fingertips tapped the wooden beneath her in entertainment while the right hand held the machete en garde. As the whirring grew closer, the tapping lessened and soon, her enemy found himself on the other side of the door. The knob turned, soon opened as Chloe did not lock it. One foot stepped in preferring his weapon to announce arrival, and Chloe prepared for battle.

"I can smell you…." Between her thighs remained secretions and Chloe grinned mischievously.

I bet. Turn out Big Guy wasn't a bad fuck. Oh shit…He's coming closer.

I watched the Creep inch closer to bed ready slice into his tendons but he suddenly stopped a few feet away. Turning around to survey the entire room as I had done many times before. That's when I got the idea to mentally take notes, learn and mimic. This guy looked like a natural and now that I could see his weapon, it's a wonder where he acquired a handheld power saw of some sort. Huh. I was completely unware they were allowed to work with power tools…BUT NOT MUSIC. Unbelievable.

In the midst of thinking, Chloe realized Creep was no longer in the room; however, unsure if he truly left the room, she remained in place. She had developed a method of breathing in case enemies were near, breathing in her mouth and out her nose – the reverse of proper breathing technique. Chloe's genetic predisposition to asthma left her with fits of bronchitis after running and while she could control coughing thanks to years of marijuana abuse, wheezing became an issue in hiding. With this technique, she swallowed "fresh" air in comparison to inhaling through the nose and risking a wheeze. In her opinion, this was just another weakness she could not expose. After a few swallows, all was still and the whirring now traveled south.

My first instinct was to get the fuck out of there. I got my last breath and rolled from refuge and sprinted to the door, opposite his direction of choice. The problem with Mount Massive was that each floor looked nearly the same, I'm sure done purposely in design to confuse any patient in attempt of escape. On my way to the other kitchen, I stopped to observe an official directory conveniently hung on the wall though the dim lighting made my momentary break a little longer. According to the map, there was another block that she hadn't explored. Food no longer important, I hurried before the Creep came back this way. My sole mission now: Find Eddie. And I know just where to check.

But….

It'd be unfortunate to lie to the Priest and Big, and it's not my intention to stop looking for this Walrider but if it serves me no purpose and I can't see it or be affected by it in any way, I'm losing interest. Though my therapy in the Morphogenic Engine was brief, it did leave lasting effects. My natural occurring dreams aren't the same; in fact, it's the same memories, specifically painful memories. Memories I particularly don't care to remember and I started to suspect the medicine induced during the process impacts body's functions, even after the sessions were over. The results were apparent. These men might've been criminally insane at first but the ME drastically altered their transgressions to aggressive and disturbing levels. And I personally understood but her, speak for these men? Who would take a criminally insane patient's word without concrete proof? Pfft. Even if I got out, there's little to no chance….

"ATTENTION MURKOFF PERSONNEL: AN EMERGENCY EVACUATION IS IN PROCESS. PLEASE PROCEED TO THE ADMINISTRATIVE BLOCK…."

Chloe snapped out of thought to the announcement as she approached a steel door with a lock. The lock, she determined, were strategically placed before this extremely late declaration of salvation to surviving guards, doctors and any other Murkoff employee left alive, stuck inside with Colorado's finest maniacs. A body draped in a white coat scurried from a room at the very end likely in an attempt to make it to aid, leaving her alone to figure out a plan.

That's fucking great. According to that map, this path would take me towards a kitchen connected to the gymnasium. Hmm.

Chloe began to ponder the options, looking for advancement as opposed to going back. Any minute, the Creep could head this way and she'd be trapped. However, feet away from her stood another door with an opening above it allowing a reasonably sized person to climb over. Quickly, she rushed to scan rooms in search of any kind of furniture – a desk, a chair to put on top of said desk, an intact bookcase, anything. A desk tilted on its side settled as her choice, she slid her machete into its designated place at her side finding it difficult to drag the originally polished wood across the carpet alone. Another attempt, another few inches, this pattern proceeding until her foot slipped backwards in a pool of blood sending her and the desk crashing to the floor. A loud crash echoed through and down the hall.

Fuck. Way to go, Clo.

WHIRRRR.

Shiiiiiiiii-

Chloe didn't finish her sentence as she back on her feet, rushing to the other side to push it the remainder of the way. The method indeed quicker but it still required much effort until the desk met the hallway. Creep approached fast and she could hear him in the distance yelling for her.

"FEED ME."

I was confused by his statement. Feed him? Earlier he said he could smell me followed by the nickname "lady-meat." So now we've got cannibals. Suddenly, I didn't feel like a weirdo anymore. I was a few meters away when it sounded like he was around the corner forcing me hustle ass even more. Creep kept muttering, repeating the same phrase over and over again: "Find you. Eat you." And then, he was there about to run. Time slowed down as I inched close to the door, deciding it close enough as I hastily climbed on top. The roar of the blades spinning furiously teetered behind me and as I leapt up to that hole, they met the wood in a shredding collision. With my remaining strength, I shifted the weight of legs bring them up as I pulled myself over, my machete slicing into my thigh as I fell heavy to the floor. My second successful attempt at escape only angered him, impatience as the driving force of his temptations compelled him to ram into the locked door in hopes of breaking it down. But he found no triumph and I emerged again slightly bruised, still bleeding but in one piece.

"NO. YOU BITCH. YOU WERE MINE!"

I wanted to reply so badly, to let him know he would never know me as a feast but I went on without a word. Hopefully, I'll never have to see this man again, who I consider a lot more terrifying than Big. His method of "eating" doesn't tickle fancy unfortunately. Safely away, I found myself in another long corridor, this one full of windows instead of doors. A glance out of them revealed military tanks parked out front, light posts shining in the cold fall evening as leaves blew across the cobblestone paths. The late declaration now made sense; Murkoff sent for help. These bastards were actually trying to get away with this. A flash of lightning crossed the jet black skies with a deep rumble following - a storm's way to declare its arrival, communicating the chance of a possible interlude for my body begged for serious R & R. Storms in the mountains were always a relaxing time for me. Our home came with a patio connected, sheltered by a roof; as a child I'd lay in the hammock attached, rocking back and forth as the rain patter whispered, lulling me to sleep. The memory faded into another, one more sinister almost unlike my own. A strange visual, much like the ones I experience in the Engine and at the brink of fainting, I leaned against the glass in attempt to collect myself. Without delay, the floor left my feet and in my delusion, I insisted that I was simply lightheaded. But the glass was no longer against me but away as if someone pulled me off the ground in complete possession of my body. However, as I shook myself awake, I realized I was still grounded and alone. But my foreknowledge yearned to be explored; it was then I heard the Priest loud and clear.

Believe, huh? Well Priest, I think I just met your beloved Walrider.

Author's note:

So she's pretty much taking over the story, it's soon going to be hers to tell.

New chapter up soon. xo

Thanks for reading!

- FLCN