LESHAWNA
1:55 P.M.
SMALL OFFICE
-X-
Why did this have to happen?
My thoughts are so all over the place that I can barely hear the clicking of the typewriter only a few meters away. Gwen is dead, Bridgette is dead, Trent is dead, Cody is dead, Lindsay is dead...
And Harold...
Agh! Why didn't we listen to him?! Why didn't we take his warning to heart?
And Why, in God's name, would we trust CHRIS over HAROLD?!
UGH! We were so foolish! This whole thing could've been prevented! Owen could've just kept his damn money, and Chris would've sent us all home. To our families. Our families that will someday soon have to realize the cold hard truth that their son or daughter is dead because some sadistic white asshole sent them into the lions' den!
"Should we leave?" I hear Izzy ask. This worries me. Izzy had always acted on impulse before. And now... now she's scared? Now she's asking Noah what to do? This is something you'd think Izzy would know all about: when to strike, when to run, when and how to counter zombie attacks.
...This is it... We gonna die, ain't we?
"Anytime is as good as any," Noah replies, standing up. "Never trust the silence."
Suddenly, an alarm sounds.
THIS FACILITY WILL SELF-DESTRUCT IN TEN MINUTES...
"...But now would be fantastic."
"That was Chris, wasn't it?" I ask, but it was a rhetorical question; we all figure it was he who started the self-destruct sequence.
"Go! Now!" Noah shouts, and we head toward the door...
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip
Grrrrrrrooooooorrrrrrrsshhhhh
"HOLY CRAP!!"
I can't believe my eyes.
Harold just ripped the door off its hinges!
Izzy raises her shotgun, but Harold reaches out, grabs it, and throws it behind him, out into the hallway. He turns back toward us and "grorshes" again.
Noah panics and shoves the chair with Lindsay's body still slumped on it at the former string bean. Though the result is horrific, it does give us time to escape the room.
We run toward the nearest door, and I could hear flesh being ripped from the room we just left.
"OPEN THE DOOR!!" Izzy shouts.
"Wait!" Noah suddenly speaks up. "We have to hold him off!"
"WHAT?! Are you crazy?!" I yell at the brainiac.
"If we run, Harold will chase us out! And with no way of quick escape off the island, Harold will hunt us down one by one and kill us all!" Noah explains. "We need to make sure Harold is here when the place blows!"
"But what about--"
"I've got an idea. Shawny, where's the elevator on this floor?"
"Through that door," I say, gesturing toward a door at the end of the hall. "Why? ...Wait, you're not saying..."
"Mm-hmm..."
"And how exactly are you gonna trap Harold in the elevator?"
"You have a better idea, Shawny?"
"Let's do it!" A little bit of Izzy's excited side comes back, and it lifts my spirits. "I'll come up with a way! Just watch!"
We hear Harold "grorshing" again, and I nod violently. "Okay, we'll do it! Just get us out of here!"
At that, Harold reenters the hallway and turns toward us. Blood is splattered all over him, and he holds a blood-stained bandana in his hand.
Noah tries to shoot the monster, but Harold still stands strong by the time Noah empties his gun. "Shit!" He throws the gun down. "Izzy, plug his ass!"
"He threw my gun away, remember?"
"We were in the hallway this whole time and you DIDN'T PICK UP THE GUN?!"
"...Oops."
Harold is advancing on us... slowly. As if he's waiting for us to run.
He's toying with us.
"What now?!"
...
I look into the creature's eyes.
It... it's a crazy thought...
But if it works...
And if it doesn't, at least it'll give Noah and Izzy enough time to escape if he's eating me...
"Har...Harold?"
The creature continues to advance.
"Sh...Sugar babe?"
Still getting closer...
"Harold... I...I-I love you, white boy."
Stops...
...
...It...It worked?
"Harold, I know you're dead and all... but it's... it's still you, right? Baby?"
Either it's working or zombie Harold is confused as hell.
"Harold, please... let us go..."
...
"You... you wanted to save us, right? Save me?"
...
"Leshawna, what the hell are you doing?" Noah finally asks in horror, and I shush him. I turn back to the former string bean.
"Harold, please let us escape. We love you, babe. I love you."
...
Oh my God...
I think it's actually working.
Harold is backing up.
...
Then I hear a gunshot, and Harold groans in pain.
"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, YOU DUMB FUCK?!" Another gunshot, and I glance to see Chris, who's now wielding Izzy's forgotten shotgun. "KILL 'EM! KILL 'EM!" He shoots Harold again, and Harold cries in horrific agony, now on one knee.
Chris groans and cocks his gun again. "Fuck it. You want something done right..." He quickly points the gun to me and I flinch in fear, my eyes tightly shut. I'm frozen in place from my fear.
...
The shot never comes.
But clicking does.
"Stupid gun! Work!" He groans, realizing that the gun was out of ammunition. He throws the gun on the ground. "You stupid monster, KILL THE FUCKING BRA--ACK!!"
The television producer was cut off by Harold lifting him up by his throat.
Suddenly, Noah runs to the door at the end of the hall. "Hey, Harold!" he shouts, getting the monster's attention. "This way! And take that trash with you!"
As if he understood what Noah was saying (or perhaps he really did), Harold obeyed and carried the host toward the open door. No longer frozen, I run with Izzy toward the door, watching as Noah heads for the elevator door and pushes the down button. The doors open, and Noah gestures for the big zombie to throw Chris into the elevator. Afterwards, Noah reaches in to push a button and runs away from the elevator, which surprises me--I thought he was going to push Harold in as well.
Noah runs out of the room, locking the door before shutting it--probably a preemptive measure to slow down Harold in case he chases us again. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!"
He didn't have to tell me twice...
We find ourselves running again. The alarm is accompanied by a countdown. We only have a minute left.
We head through the door across the way, past Justin's rotting corpse and the messy room beyond. We're now at the final stretch.
Forty seconds left.
Past the two paintings on the wall.
Past the rusted out lockers.
All the way to the large room at the end.
Thirty seconds left.
"What's going on?" I hear DJ say as we enter the entrance way.
"NO TIME! GO!"
Without question, all but one run out of the facility with us. But a confused Ezekiel stays frozen in place.
Twenty seconds left.
"COME ON, HOMESCHOOL!" I shout, grabbing his arm. Finally he gets the message and we head for the facility doors.
Fifteen seconds left.
Come on, Shawny, don't give up now. You're almost there.
Ten seconds left.
There's the door.
You're almost out.
Five...
Don't give up now.
Four...
Up the steps, Shawny. Come on.
Three...
Two...
One...
-X-
I am so evil. No, wait. "I am RESIDENT EVIL, yes, bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!"
...That joke sucked; sorry about that.
I would like to thank everyone who took the time to read this story. Thanks for all the feedback; God knows I love it. : ) And thanks for the faves as well. You guys rock!
And no, the story's not quite over yet. There are one or two more chapters to go yet.
But there's probably one thing that's pissing you off right now, and I want to apologize. I bet you guys were hoping that Chris's death would be something for the ages: a gory and gruesome death for the evil bastard whose decisions resulted in the deaths of many at Camp Wawanakwa. A death that would be fitting for such a villainous asshole. And all I gave you here was a man being shoved into an elevator to await being blown up by the facility. Not so gory, not so gruesome, and certainly not so fitting. A quick and assumedly painless death? Pfft. So not fitting for this prick. So I understand if you are upset. And believe me when I say from the bottom of my heart that I am sorry...