Silent letters; Precursor

Silent letters; Precursor

"No turning back now... It's not exactly like we would be able to find our way back to the Inn, anyway. Who knows how dark it's gotten outside..." Trish mused aloud, mostly to reassure herself as she pocketed the lighter and walked back over to the body, examining it with a mortified look.

It was the only way.

She pulled her sleeves down so they were covering her hands, not wanting to touch the carcass of the rabies infested and bleeding dog; a push here, a shove there, and the occasional roll, finally the body was set just in front of the tarp. It confused her deeply how they hadn't noticed it before. When the dog was closing in and they were against it she had remembered feeling tile against her back, but now...

She must have imagined it. Not paid enough attention, looking too closely for a letter and then too preoccupied with the dog that her mind just totally blocked the texture out.

Yes, that must have been it.

"Okay..."

Trish allowed her sleeves to return to their normal positions, though now they were slathered with blood. At least it was a dark fabric.

She turned to Monika, holding a hand out for the brown bottle they had procured as Ian had supposedly instructed. As it was handed to her a thought struck: He had known.

He had known that they would need the Oxydol. He had known that there would be something dead or wounded in the near future for them to use it on. And he had known that they would have to get past this tarp...

Maybe I haven't been giving him enough credit...

It truly was a frightening thought that a person of such a level of insanity that they had to be institutionalized was as smart as he, able to lead them around in such an involved game and, most probably, set this up. He had to have set it up. They found the lighter, he probably planted it. He had most likely cut the power. And he had most likely lead the dog in and... did this to it...

A sinking feeling grew in the pit of her stomach as she stood up and twisted off the white cap, being met with the strong smell of alcohol. She paused for a moment, contemplating.

Perhaps they should just stop now. Camp out on the roof or something like that.

As she tried to decide what was the better option, her hand relaxed and there was a sudden drop in the bottle's weight followed promptly by a splash and a hiss as the alcohol escaped onto the animal's wounds.

Too late now.

Trish turned the bottle over and poured most of it on, the hissing growing louder as more and more was released, a white cloud rising up from it as the oxygen it was so named for was created.

The slices and cuts and peeling skin on the dog foamed up and she pulled out the lighter, holding it inside the oxygen cloud and close to the leather tarp. Soon enough the fire jumped from its holding and began consuming the tarp, spreading outwardly almost in a circle from that one origin point, turning the bottom to wrinkled ash and curling up the rest of it on the top.

It didn't take very long for the Oxydol to cease its functioning, and the fire, too, began to dull as it neared the very top against the ceiling, causing what was left of the tarp to crumple and fall on top of the dog.

What was beneath was nothing they could have expected.

The corner tiles on the wall where this one started abruptly ended, revealing the wooden planks beneath it that were now or had been horribly burnt and charred, nearly blackened. And further in the middle, still, was a large hole, too dark to see anything through, but there was a definite breeze coming from it, small as it was.

An exit.

Monika's thoughts, although just as troubled as Trish's, did not dare stray to actually attempting to contemplate Ian and why he did what he did. Right now, she was concentrating more on her speech. What she could say that would let him know that what he was doing was wrong, yet wouldn't upset the man to the point of violence even Margaret admitted he was prone to.

Monika didn't budge. She was not about to go venture into the depths of some underground hole (they were in a basement after all) just to amuse Ian, or satisfy Trish. She was tired of compliance, and just tired in general.

Trish made a beckoning gesture with her arm, calling out excitedly. It's funny how a few simple words like 'exit' and 'breeze' could change a person's resolute mind so quickly. It didn't matter that it made absolutely no sense at all for there to be a hole out via an underground basement. It didn't matter why it was there. The only important thing, was that it led out.

As they shuffled through the inky dark, all but clinging to one another, Monika had to constantly remind herself that it was still likely too foggy, or dark, or whatever else to go back to the Inn. Still, a chance to move into fresh air--out of Brookhaven, practically--without risking the dinosaur elevator was in itself, a blessing.

Ian, your letter were very nice, and I'm sure you're very nice, but I'm really not ready for the sort of commitment you seem to want me to make...

They'd surely meet him eventually. Maybe even just up ahead, who knew? It was good to have something prepared at any moment.

She imagined him waiting just outside the passage. Maybe a little to the side of the very glow they were heading for. The light at the end of the tunnel. Wasn't that supposed to symbolize journeying to one's own demise?

Shut up, Monika. You're worrying yourself for nothing.

And it was true. There was nothing to worry about, neither at the end of, or anywhere close to the tunnel's exit. Nothing at all, besides an alley, guarded on either side by buildings Monika didn't even bother getting her hopes up about attempting to climb. Like a Brookhaven corridor, but without a ceiling, and with a bit of trash and old paper here and there to break up the monotone of ground and walls. The only truly distinctive mile mark along the turn-ridden alley was a large, bright red spatter across one side, suspiciously blood-like.

Further along, they came to a portion of the pass, obstructed with an unlocked chain link fence. Yet again, Ian proved to have acknowledged even this step in their little adventure, and had gently rolled his next note so it would fit in one of the gate's diamond holes.

I don't know...

This might not have been a good idea.

Tomorrow might have been better.

I've just got a bad feeling--

Monika and Trish very nearly jumped right out of their skin at a very sudden and unexpected interruption. The sound of a siren, air-raid style, blared loudly though the air above them, seeming to come from nowhere in particular with the echo. What it could possibly be blazoning, Monika hadn't the slightest idea, but she was sure of one thing. A sounded alarm meant people.

Trish let out a muted sigh when a similar thought struck her.

People.

The siren meant people.

This town wasn't abandoned after all!

Currently she felt like she was going crazy, though; they had just walked through the darkest hole in the wall they had every seen, and after a little while.. they ended up outside? In an alley? A bloody alley, at that, but the blood looked old.

Decades old.

It had begun to peel itself from the pavement as well as the stone wall.

Maybe she was going crazy... or all of this stress was just making her imagine things. Yes, she put it up to that and they were probably just in some other old crawlspace or something that they had sealed up haphazardly in an attempt to keep people out but not fully lose track of it.

Or something to that effect.

Once the siren died down, blaring out three long WRRRR's she plucked the letter from Monika's hands and read over it herself.

I don't know...

This might not have been a good idea.

Tomorrow might have been better.

I've just got a bad feeling... but I know you're alright. I know you're close and you'll be here soon.

...But if anything goes wrong... you run, Monika. You get out of this hospital and you get out of this town.

Trish didn't like the sound of this one bit.

Now he was having regrets? After they had stuck their necks out in dangerous low visible conditions, nearly got attacked by a dog infected with rabies, and were now suffering from some kind of stress or sleep disorder?

What a bastard.

But his concern for Monika was even more worrying.

What was he really having second thoughts on?

Tomorrow might have been better.

Why? Surely not simply from a case of cold feet. It appeared to Trish that Ian was actually distressed by something.

Confused but not wanting to dwell on it much longer, she handed the letter back to Monika for her own review and gazed around; past the gate were other papers of the same color and texture strewn about, all of them either ripped, wrinkled or crumpled. From what she could see, as well, the crumpled ones seemed to just have one large word written on the insides of them, one of which had unrolled some time before their approach and had a dark 'NO' scraped on to the sheet in what appeared to be charcoal.

Trish gave Monika a slightly worried glance and was meant back with one from her friend. They had still decided.

There was no turning back now.

She stepped forward and opened the small, waist-high gate, waiting for Monika to pass through after her before moving on. The slam of it closing behind them without either of them making a visible move to do so was unsettling, but that was probably what the hinge was made for--it had been slightly hard to budge.

As their trek down the alley continued it got steadily darker, like when they had entered, making the hairs on the back of their necks stand up and, once again, they were very nearly clinging to one another as they reached an end.

Right where they had begun.

"Wh-... what?"

"But we were..... we just came from here?" Monika's intonation was that of a question. It was all very incredibly confusing.

After walking across to the opposite side of the alley the opening in the tarp had led them to, they had emerged from the very place they exited. It was as if the alley had gone around in one big circle, but Monika was sure both her coming and leaving the two passages involved only one path. Not once had they encountered a fork, or any sort of choice between paths. Straight through. Just straight through.

Something's wrong with this place.

It wasn't a matter anymore of an irrational fear of the dark, or edginess. Brookhaven's physical form and being had shifted already on several occasions, this being by far, the strangest and most obvious. If that wasn't the case, then she and Trish were both having the same hallucinations.

Either choice was not good for two woman in an asylum infested with rabid dogs and insane stalkers. The horrible part was not knowing if any of it was real, or all sleep-deprivation originated figments. "How--"

Monika blinked. It had finally occurred to her, now that she was looking about, that the basement was very different than it had been when they had last been inside. Not a different basement. It was clearly the same basement.

It was a fuller basement. One that reflected, not the white glare of a cell phone light, but red. Some dark, some vibrant, and all very definitely blood. This much blood from one dog? Maybe it wasn't completely dead. Perhaps it had gotten up and limped about in their short absence, but still...

This much blood?

Monika, still in possession of the phone, made a slow sweeping motion across the disturbing scene. Her stare grew more and more mortified as she passed, starting from her right and moving left, uncovering several broken wheelchairs, shattered glass littering the floors, and yet more blood. Blood and meat. Something was here, and it had a temper. Monika was beginning to feel a little queasy, and yet her arm still swung around until it had illuminated every side of the room.

Her mistake.

The very last thing she saw would surely give her nightmares for a week. Be it real, or something she never could have suspected her mind to produce even in such a state as this, it was most assuredly the most disturbing thing she'd ever seen.

Corpses. Four of them, decaying and piled carelessly atop one another, genocide style. The blood hadn't come from one dog, but rather four people. Monika stifled a gag, but something else caught her eye just above the gory pile.

A foot.

Up and up the light went, Monika's heartbeat pounding faster as the foot turned out to be attached to a leg, and that leg to a full body. A dead body hanging from a fence, hands skewered in a way that make them look like anything but human hands. The shoulders and head, not attached to anything, leaned forward limply.

When Monika had finally lifted the phone high enough to see the horrible grinning face just a yard above their heads, her heart fluttered. The two women gave simultaneous shrieks, as loud as their vocal chords could manage, stumbling backward away from the mock crucified carcass. Purely reaction got them into the elevator, and with shaky hands, Trish stabbed at the 'close door' button.

With surprising speed for a mechanic so ancient, the cage door at the front slammed to a startling close, prompting another scream from Monika, which soon withered to a sob. She had thrown up after all.

Trish's hand went wild as she heard Monika convulse and retch, smashing against the panel only to realize in horror, seconds later, what button she had pressed.

B3.

"Third Basement?!"

Like so many other occurrences, her words were like a cue and the caged elevator that they were now inside plummeted with a sickening speed, scraping and sparking along the walls like it wasn't even attached to a cable and was descending solely on the basis of gravity.

Before it slowed to a stop Trish had leaned down on the floor by Monika and clung a bit to her, trying to bring comfort to them both simultaneously.

It wasn't working.

With a dull thump the elevator stopped, landed rather, and the cage lifted itself back up before the doors opened, revealing a very dimly lit room.

The ceiling was high, too high to see its actual location, it all just looked black beyond the single hanging light right in the center that was so covered in rust and blood just like the walls and floor that it, too, cast a disturbing red glow upon everything. The room was empty, however. Devoid of anything at all, save for one steel, rust encrusted door on the wall to their far left.

It was their only option, and Trish hoped so much that it would lead to another stair well and that it would allow them, then, to leave this horrible place, whether it was real or not.

They needed to get out of here, and escape route or not, it was the only chance they had.

She stood up, tugging Monika to a stand as gently as possible given their situation and kept a tight hold of her upper arm, moving through the large. Upon closer inspection she noted that the walls were actually comprised of rusted metal gates, like what the body before was attached to, and the floor was a disgusting mess of bloody linoleum and burnt wood that still held the smell.

Careful as ever, Trish pulled the gun from its hiding place and held it in front of her, moving so Monika was behind, and with a great amount of effort pulled the metal door open. Oddly this one seemed well oiled as nary a sound escaped it, and when their eyes fell on what was before them.

Bloody gurneys and autopsy tables all moved about, IVs just standing at an angle, only kept up by the tables they were resting against, all sorts of blood soaked medical equipment and them.

Two men; one was strapped straight to a horribly bloody table with a cloth covering a certain lower region, as well as having a gag tired around his mouth, it seemed. The other was standing over him in a black robe complete with a hood to cover his face, holding up a bone saw. The one on the table lifted his head, staring at the two girls which prompted the other to do the same. In one quick motion Trish aimed and fired at the man's leg.

It had to have been that bastard, Ian!

What a sick fuck, setting all of this up, mutilating a dog that was still alive, and now ready to kill another man! He would probably have done the same to Monika if they had given him the chance, but that seemed to end as he limped quickly away and out a second door on the opposite side of the room before they had a chance to pursue him. Quickly they rushed over to the man and realized that the blood on the table was actually his own; his knees had been beaten until they were bloody, skin scraped away from quite a few layers; there was a nasty gash along the left side of his chest, going diagonally across his ribs; and his face... a black eye, a popped blood vessel, and it looked as though he had received a few good punches to the mouth.

He looked distressed, naturally, but his eyes weren't on the both of them as he squirmed to get out of his bindings, groaning behind the gag.

Just Monika.

As soon as who she suspected must've been the very charming Ian Scarlet had fled, Monika's made a weak jog toward the man on the table. Her vision blurred for just a moment, but without slowing down—speeding up if anything—Monika crudely wiped at her face, dragging the moisture collecting at her lower lid across her face, rather than drying it off.

The tears weren't for the wounded madman, but this poor man he'd obviously just been in the middle of mutilating. An innocent human being, with apparently the worst luck of the three of them, as he'd been the one to find Ian first.

”Trish, keep watching the door in case he comes back.” her voice sounded....in control, almost. She would have enjoyed her rare act of assertive behavior more if it weren't for the current predicament.

Her focus turned immediately to the victim, bloodied and nearly completely naked. ”I'm a nurse, I can help you.”

Her hands immediately began working at the leather restraining straps, managing to unclip the tightly fastened belt clips relatively easily with her newborn stamina and sense of emergency. She noted just vaguely as she began at the second of the straps that he kept his eyes on her all the while she worked, but figured she could dismiss and forgive such an odd stare, knowing what he must have gone through.

Two or three times as she worked at freeing him, she felt a sort of hiccup build in the lower part of her throat, threatening to choke up as a sob. Monika had to close her eyes and bite her bottom lip for just a moment as the feeling passed, knowing full well that she'd do no one any good right now by breaking down.

Just another operation. A regular case of blood loss, she tried to continuously remind herself.

But alas, it wasn't the sight of blood and body that distressed her, but rather the thought of herself going through this. Of her or Trish taking the place of this horribly-treated stranger, but unlike him, with no saviors. The death of a stupid gullible girl and her kind-intentioned friend.

”I'm so sorry...” after the final belt had been removed, Monika gave an uneasy glance toward the alternative exit Ian had just disappeared through. Her fingers moved up to the gag, attempting to tear it enough to just rip the fabric. ”I'm so sorry... that man... he was waiting for me. He was trying to do this to me...”

She shook her head slowly, all this stress giving her quite a headache. ”Ian Scarlet...” she said it with a sort of deep-rooted hatred. A rightful hatred at the man who had put them through so much all at once and without warning. ”That's who attacked you... he used to be a patient here.”

Fffft. With only a few threads left to hold the filthy material together, Monika gave a sharp tug that snapped those too let her hands drop back to her sides, turning her gaze down to the vigorously red pool at her feet for a moment...