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“Hey!” Gracelyn shouted, grabbing the back of Margo’s shirt when she attempted to run past us to get to her. “You can’t go out there!”
We gradually slowed, watching as the smiley face cocked to the side, seemingly to regard Susan. She reached towards Abby and Leonard, as if one of them could grab her hand and pull her to safety.
The biker revved their engine, the loud rumble intermingling with the tune continuing to play down the street and Susan’s wailing. I knew what was going to happen seconds before it did. He hit the throttle and rocketed forward, driving his bike right over Susan’s body.
An inhuman sound tore from her throat, strips of flesh being ripped away beneath the tread of spinning rubber as bones visibly broke. The man on the bike didn’t stop again, racing back the way we’d come. The chain around Susan’s neck snagged, cutting off her agonized screams, dragging her broken body behind him.
A trail of shredded clothing and blood smeared on the tarmac were all that remained in her wake.
CHAPTER SIX
SANCTUARY.
It was another building.
When the truck began to move towards us, we resumed our grueling sprint to get away. Margo surprisingly kept up.
Ciaran still didn’t slow again. He gripped my hand so tightly it hurt. At another intersection, Maverick went the usual direction, and we followed.
From my peripheral, I saw Abby and Leonard making their way back to us.
That’s where we found it.
Much like Blight House, the sign was illuminated, indicating it was the right place to be.
Kyrous was the first to enter this time. With little to no caution, he went to the door and flung it open, causing the wood to groan from the force he exerted.
We practically poured in after him, leaving the door to automatically slam shut behind us, only there was no thud of wood, but a cool, metallic click…
“It’s locked,” Leonard heaved, wiggling the handle to no avail as sweat dripped down his face.
“That’s for our benefit, supposedly,” Maverick replied, motioning towards a large plaque hanging on the wall near a dining table.
“The windows are bolted, the doors are armed; you’ll be safe until time runs out?” Gracelyn read in between shallow breaths.
“What is safe?” Margo questioned, pushing past us. “Did you see what they did to Susan?”
Her motions were stiff as she walked over to a leather sofa and sank down, cradling her head in her hands. Abby followed, offering the same comfort she’d been given. I noticed she was barefoot, having kicked off her heels at some point.
Leaving them to their grief, we slightly dispersed. Ciaran relinquished his hold on me as we took in this new space. Other than a small hallway with a visible bathroom and what appeared to be two individual bedrooms, the space was open concept.
With its slated floors, dove-gray walls, and soft leather furnishings placed in their respective areas, it reminded me of a bachelor pad.
A fire was going in an open-walled fireplace that partially separated the kitchenette from the main room, giving off an almost warm and inviting vibe.
I overlooked all of this for the map hanging where a television would usually go.
It was an exact replica of the one from the Visitor’s Center but with a few updates. Most noticeable to me was the clock counting down from six hours in the upper left corner.
“Over there.” I nudged Melantha and Gracelyn in its general direction.
“Names are crossed off,” Mel said quietly once we got closer.
I looked to the right, seeing what she was referring to almost instantly. Heather and Susan both had the same line through their names as the people from our shuttle bus.
“I don’t understand what the point of this is,” Gracelyn remarked, sweeping loose strands of hair out of her face.
“Seems to me someone is watching us. And they plan to pick us off one by one,” Leonard theorized, going to sit on the leather couch opposite of where Margo and Abby were seated. “Think that food’s poisoned too?”
He nodded to a bowl full of multigrain bars resting atop a coffee table. Small individual sized waters sat in a huddle beside it.
“I wouldn’t risk…”
I trailed off when Margo leaned forward and snatched two from the bowl. She was tearing one open and pushing it into her mouth before anyone could tell her otherwise.
“That wasn’t smart,” Kyrous scoffed.
“If I die, I die,” she retorted, wiping her tear-filled eyes with the back of her hand. “We have to eat and drink something.”
“In that case, we appreciate you volunteering as tribute,” Ciaran joked.
Leonard frowned at him, lip curling in what could be disgust or displeasure, probably both. Meanwhile, I was biting my inner cheek, so I didn’t laugh. Ciaran’s humor was dark and morbid—horribly timed, but I got it.
“What are we supposed to do now? Do you think our families will come for us? What am I supposed to tell Heather’s?” Abby rushed out, rubbing Margo’s back, almost robotically.
