The Longest Night Ever Lived

by Mitch Goth

Nate and Cady had ran through the dark, maze-like expanse of the factory for what felt like ages before they turned into a short, dead end hallway and paused to rest.

  “Where’s everyone else?” Cady wondered through heavy breaths.

  “I think they got out,” Nate replied, equally breathless, “I heard them running behind us. They must’ve gotten lost somewhere along the way.”

  “I think we’re lost right now.”

  Nate looked around, “I think that’s a safe assumption.”

  Just as he turned back, she leaned in an delivered a passionate and unexpected lip-lock to him. When she leaned back again, he was struck with a look similar to that of a deer in the headlights of an oncoming eighteen-wheeler.

  “For a second there I thought you weren’t coming,” she remarked. “You shouldn’t keep a lady waiting.”

  “I got here just as fast as Bobby’s car could get us here,” he smiled.

  “Why didn’t you guys call the cops?”

  “You know,” he shrugged, “some things just fall on the back burner.”

  “It was Mike wasn’t it?”

  “It was all Mike. I honestly don’t know what he has against the police in this town.”

  “Maybe they took his fireworks away once,” she said jokingly.

  “I do have to point out, his pyromania sort of saved our asses at the gas station.”

  “What the hell happened over there?”

  “Oh, Cady, you should’ve seen it. Biggest explosion I’ve ever seen. And Mike danced afterwards.”

  “Any good?”

  “Awful. I think he had shell shock or something.”

  They both shared a long but cautiously quiet laugh at this. After the sat for a moment, they noticed it was silent in all directions around them. In addition, they’d both caught their breath.

  “We should try and find a way out of here,” Cady suggested.

  “Where though?” Nate wondered.

  “I have no idea,” she shook her head.

  “We need to find the others too.”

  “Let’s hope they already got out.”

  “But what if they didn’t?”

  “Then I don’t know,” Cady said with a sorrowful shrug, “but if they did get caught, we’re not doing them any good just sitting here.”

  “You’re right,” Nate agreed, “let’s go.”

  He took her by the hand and in synced speed they spun around the corner, hoping to get out of this darkened corridor as quickly as their feet could take them. But, an all too familiar obstacle was blocking their way as soon as they turned the corner.

  Josh, pistol drawn and aimed, was staring directly at them. He gave them a smart but anger-filled smirk.

  “You broke my chainsaw,” he said in a dark monotone. “I really liked that chainsaw.”

  -

  In the confusion Cera, Mike, Bobby and a still limping Taylor went up several flights of stairs in an attempt to flee their captors and found themselves equally as lost as Nate and Cady. They had no idea what floor they were on nor where any staircases were.

  “I need to stop,” Taylor exclaimed to the rest of the group. “My foot really hurts.”

  “What’d you do?” Bobby asked.

  “Kicked that bearded one in the head,” she replied.

  “That’s injury well spent,” Cera patted her blonde companion on the back.

  “So we’re just gonna stop here?” Mike inquired.

  “I don’t think going any further will do any help, Mike,” Cera explained.

  “Sitting here won’t help either.”

  “Well what do you want us to do, just keep going up until we hit the roof?”

  “We need to find Cady and Nate,” Taylor interrupted.

  “We need to get the hell out of here,” Cera shot back.

  “We can’t leave them here,” Mike agreed with Taylor.

  “I don’t know how we’re supposed to do either of those things when we’re lost like this,” Cera pointed out.

  “We’re not lost guys,” Bobby observed.

  “Don’t give us any hippie nonsense, Bobby,” Mike stopped his friend’s thought, “now is not the time.”

  “No, guys,” Bobby went on, “look,” he pointed down a nearby hall. At the other end of his finger was a window.

  “What the hell will that help?” Cera wondered. “We’re like three stories up.”

  “We jump it.”

  “Hell no,” Taylor objected, “I’m hurt enough.”

  “We’d all die or get seriously injured,” Mike added.

  “What else is there to do?” Bobby addressed their pessimism.

  “Not jump out windows.”

  “You play football, Mike. You can handle it.”

  “Getting hit by a lineman isn’t anything like jumping out of a window.”

  “Whatever, I’m doing it.”

  “Bobby,” Taylor said worriedly, “I highly suggest you don’t do that.”

  “I don’t see any of you guys coming up with anything better and we have friends out there that need us,” he took a step towards the window.

  “Yeah,” Mike nodded, “they need us alive. Don’t jump Bobby.”

  “I’m doing it.”

  Before anyone could grab for him, Bobby got a swift running start towards the window. The other three were in hot pursuit, but it was too little too late. He covered his face with his forearms and leapt through the old, cracked window. The glass gave way with ease and Bobby went sailing less than gracefully downward.

  By the time the other three reached the now gaping window Bobby had already hit the ground. He didn’t move.

  “Is he dead?” Taylor asked, mortified.

  “I immediately regret that decision!” Bobby called to them painfully.

  “No,” Cera said in a disappointed tone.

  “Can you move?” Mike wondered.

  “Doubtful,” Bobby said. “But at least I’m out of the building, which is more than you guys can say.”

  “He’s got a point,” Mike grinned.

  “Nobody else is jumping,” Cera asserted.

  “What if we get caught?” Taylor looked back down the hall cautiously.

  “Then we die, Bobby survives,” Cera said simply.

  “Bobby fuckin’ Berrer!” Mike called down to him.

  “Yo!” Bobby called back.

  “If we don’t make it out of this place alive, you need to tell everyone what happened tonight.”

  “Okay,” Bobby paused, “but what happened exactly?”

  “Hell if I know. Just tell them.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “We’re leaving now,” Cera backed away from the window.

  “We’ll help you when we get down there,” Taylor added.

  “If we get down there,” Cera corrected.

  “When,” Taylor repeated.

  “Whatever, let’s go,” Cera began back down the hall, Mike followed.

  “We’ll be down there soon, Bobby,” Taylor called to him once again before catching up to them.

  “That’s cool,” Bobby replied. “I’ll be here.”

  Back into the windowless halls, the remaining trio continued walking. None of them expected to get out of the building any time soon.

  “Why aren’t there any exit signs in this place,” Mike sighed.

  “That’d be too easy, Mike,” Cera replied. “Far too easy.”

  “They should’ve put one over the window,” Mike joked.

  Taylor was going to speak up against his joke at Bobby’s expense, but before she could, something gained all of their attention. A figure appeared through a close by corridor. It took a moment for them to gather enough facial features through the darkness to identify the person, but as soon as they did they all froze.

  “Which one of you kicked me in the head?” Hosni sneered, aiming his gun intently at them.

  Cera and Mike instantaneously pointed at Taylor.

  “Come on, guys!” she
exclaimed in discontent.

  “You die first,” he pointed the pistol at hurt, “that hurt a lot.”

  “Even more than the stabbing?” Cera inquired.

  “I’ve gotten used to stabbings.”

  “Damn it.”

  “Now come on,” Hosni gestured with the gun, “let’s go see your friends.”

  14