The typing ceases. The progress is saved.
LESHAWNA
10:45 A.M.
TEAM TWO HALLWAY
-X-
Whoa… this place is givin' me the heebie jeebies…
It looks like some sort of rundown school hallway.
I continue to look at my surroundings. Two paintings on the wall catch my eye. "…Doctor James Marcus… Wait, you mean to tell me those two are the same guy? Now that's freaky."
But enough sidetrackin'. I gotta keep goin'!
I reach a set of doors, and I open 'em.
(The door opens slowly, creaking softly.)
Dayum, Chris! You coulda at least cleaned this place out a little bit. There's piles of paper and crap all over the dadgum place!
Unless that was part of the challenge, but still! Holy cats…
I go over to the next door and open it.
(The door opens slowly, creaking softly.)
OH MY GOD!!
The once pretty Justin is lying on the floor, parts of his body ripped or eaten. His face is a complete wreck—there is so much missin' that I probably wouldn't have even noticed it's him if it weren't for me starin' at that green T-shirt all week waitin' for it to come off.
I notice a zombie scratching at the other door, wanting to get out that way.
He turns to me.
Uh-oh…
I back up a little bit, but I'm too scared to reach for the handle of the door behind me. What if this zombie was one of those fast zombies that walk slowly toward you 'til you try to run and then tackles you down and bites your head off? It probably wouldn't be much worse than a slow, painful death, but either way I still can't move…
Suddenly, the door behind me opens, hitting me from behind. This must have knocked some sense into me, as I am now able to use my legs. I run toward the corner of the room, noticing that the zombie was now focused on whoever was coming through the door.
BANG! BANG!
"AAAAHHHH!!" What? There was a gun firin'! You don' think I'd flinch?
The zombie, who was now missing half of his head, falls to the floor, blood pooling from the large gunshot holes.
I turn to the person with the firearm (which turns out to be a shotgun).
…
"HAROLD?"
"Never doubt my wicked skills, Leshawna," he says, winking at me. "Now come on, we've got to find the others."
I slowly nod as he, followed by Chef and Chris, lead me to the door at the other side of the room.
(The door opens slowly, creaking softly.)
"Leshawna!"
For the first time in over an hour, I grin. "Gwen!" I run over to and hug my pasty white girl, practically lifting her off the ground. "You guys have no idea how worried I was for y'all! Now, c'mon! Let's get out of here."
"Not so fast, Shawnie."
A gun cocks, and my eyes widen in shock. I turn toward my addresser.
Duncan.
"I don't know about you guys, but I ain't leavin' without Princess."
"Huh?"
"Courtney ran off. She still doesn't realize this place is crawling with these undead freaks! I would have gone after her, but I'm not stupid—I had nothing to defend myself with… but now that I've got a little protection," he lightly slaps his palm with the shotgun he is holding, "I can save her."
"Duncan, you're not going by yourself, are you?" Gwen asks, and I can only imagine how concerned she is for the delinquent.
"If I have to," he replies, and he walks toward the end of the hall.
"Wait!"
He stops, and we all turn to Gwen, who is now walking toward him. "We're not leaving you here, Duncan."
"Yeah, dude," Cody adds, "it's too dangerous to go alone. But if we stick together, we have a better chance of all of us getting out of here."
Everyone agrees… except for…
"Okay, seriously, is this really worth all the trouble for Court—" Chris stops as Duncan points the shotgun at him, and I laugh at the poor host's reaction. "I-I-I mean… let's go save Courtney! That's what I meant. Heh heh…" He turns to Chef. "Exactly why did you give him a gun?" he tries to whisper, but I'm sure everyone heard him anyway.
Chef ignores him. "Alright, gang: I've got a bag full of firearms. I'm not sure if y'all are legally obligated to use firearms, but up until we get the hell out of here I don't really care. Now, let's see…" As Harold and Duncan already have shotguns, he goes straight to me. "Take this handgun. It ain't much, but I got plenty of ammo for 'em if you need 'em." He goes over to Noah, Trent, and Gwen, and hands them handguns as well. He then turns to Cody. "A'ight, I don't have anymore 'simple' handguns, so this'll have to do." He hands Cody a magnum and Cody lights up like a Christmas tree. Then he turns to Chris. "Um… sorry. All out."
"But what about that shotgun still in the bag?" the television host observes.
"That's for me, dumbass." Then, he starts handing out the ammunition. "A'ight, remember now: don't shoot unless you need to. Conserve your ammo, or you'll be fucked. Hard. In the ass. And we don't want that, do we?" He stops in front of Noah for some reason, shakes his head, and walks away. "Any questions?"
Izzy raises her hand.
"…Ugh… What?"
"How come I don't get a gun, yet Cody gets a freaking magnum?"
"Because you're FUCKING PSYCHO, THAT'S WHY!" he shouts, and Izzy cackles in agreement.
"A'ight," he continues, "ready, men?"
I clear my throat.
"…Ladies…"
"That's better."
"Let's do this!"
We make our way down the hall, which forks left and right. We go left first. The only thing there is a restroom, and we make no progress, so we go the other way.
As Chef finds yet another restroom in this direction, I notice Cody stopping in front of a plaque on the wall. Much like the plaque I had seen earlier, this one was also in between two images.
Only these were portraits, not paintings.
The first was a black and white portrait of a blond middle-aged man with glasses. The second was in color and depicted two adorable children, possibly brother and sister, with arms around each others' shoulders.
I read the plaque.
ASHFORD HALL
Built in 1985 in loving memory of two of Umbrella's greatest minds.
Edward Ashford, 1917-1968.
Alexia Ashford, 1971-1983.
…Wow. I read the plaque again, especially noting the age of the young girl. "Greatest mind at… twelve years old? Now that's one smart cookie."
"It's too bad she died," Cody adds. "She probably could've helped solve our zombie problem."
"Maybe."
"Hey, slowpokes!" I hear Chris call from my right. "Quit sight-seeing and get over here! Everyone else is downstairs already!"
I look over to him. He has the door at the end of the hall open for us, and I notice the staircase leading down. Oh, great… there are multiple floors to this dadgum facility?
Great… Courtney, why'd you have to be so… Courtney?
-X-
11:10 A.M.
FIRST BASEMENT
CIRCULAR ROOM
-X-
There's some sort of large mechanical doohickey in front of us. Harold offers to inspect it. After about a minute, he comes back to us.
"Apparently, this machine controls the switches on the above floor," Harold explains to us. "I'm assuming it's referring to the doors in the entryway, but I could be wrong."
"Makes sense to me," I say, and Harold warmly smiles at me. I smile back… in a friendly way.
"Also, I noticed a door to the right and a ladder on the other side of the machine," he adds. "I'll check out the room first. If I'm not out in sixty seconds, just go on without me. I'll catch up."
Wary, but with understanding, we nod at the gawky teenager, who grins and leaves us.
-X-
11:12 A.M.
CIRCULAR ROOM
-X-
…Where the hell is Harold?
Oh God… What if something happened to him?
Suddenly, an alarm sounds.
"LOCKDOWN PROCEDURES HAVE BEEN ACTIVATED."
What the—? How the—?
The machine begins to whir. A series of clinking and rattling sounds could be heard.
"TWO HOURS BEFORE LOCKDOWN PROCEDURES TERMINATE."
I look at the others in shock, then in fear.
They do the same.
Two hours…
We're stuck in this hell for at least two more hours…
-X-
11:15 A.M.
CIRCULAR ROOM
-X-
Harold still hasn't come out of that room.
Duncan growls. "Let's just go! Courtney's probably downstairs anyway."
"…Wouldn't it be down-ladder?"
"SHUT UP, IZZY!!"
That was from all of us… except Izzy, of course.
I sigh. "Duncan's right… Harold told us to go on without him if he hadn't come back." I shake my head. "I didn't think he was serious, but…"
"Don't worry, Leshawna," Gwen comforts me. "Harold doesn't give up that easily. I'm sure he's fine."
I nod. "Yeah… but I still feel awful. We shoulda listened to him, Gwen. We shoulda never entered this damn place!"
"Calm down," she says, and I try to. "We'll be fine. Don't worry." I don't know what to say… but damn does she know how to get to me.
"A'ight. Let's go," I finally say, and she smiles. I do too, despite it all.
"Alright, if this snoresfest is now over, let's go, bros!" Chris commands, earning glares from the rest of us.
…But he has a point. If we don't find Courtney, this "rescue mission" of sorts will be all for nothing.
So, we head down the ladder…
(Clink, clank, clink, clank, down the ladder we go…)
We're in a small room. Another door is right in front of us.
"Wait, before we go any further," Noah says before walking over to… Wait… What's a typewriter doin' in here?
"What do you need to vent about now?" Cody asks, but Noah shakes his head.
"I'm not venting this time. If we're really stuck down here, and something bad happens to us, maybe someone will someday find this place and find out what really happened here from my documents. That way, no one will ever use this damn facility for any reality show challenges EVER AGAIN," he adds, glaring at Chris.
Duncan scoffs. "Fine! Do whatever! I don't care! But I'm looking for Courtney, not writing a freaking book!" He goes through the door. Chris, Chef, Trent, Gwen, and I follow.
(The door opens slowly, creaking softly.)
"Alright, so we're down a few people… no big deal," Duncan says. "And they would've held us back anyway."
"Duncan! Not cool!" I scowl.
I hear the door behind us open. "W-W-Wait up!" We turn and find Cody, with Izzy in tow. "Don't forget about us. Noah says he'll be right behind us. Just give him a few minutes."
"We don't have a few minutes, geek!" Duncan growls. "Courtney could get eaten at any second! If your boyfriend can't see that, he's an idiot."
"Hey! Not cool, man!"
"What, are you insecure about your sexual orientation, hotshot?"
"No, I'm objecting to your claim of Noah being an idiot!"
"SHUT UP, MAGGOTS!!!" Chef finally shouts, and I take a breath, not realizing I hadn't been breathin' since that argument began. "Now's not the time for arguing. Now's the time for ACTION!!"
Well, I guess we can all agree to that.
In the room behind us, Noah uses the typewriter…
-X-
Special thanks goes to my beta nikki-kun05. Thanks for... um... betaing...
...
You know what I mean.