“I don’t think she’ll mind,” Ciaran replied with what I dared say was a brazen hint of humor.
“That wasn’t right, son,” Leonard chastised.
“It was the truth,” he countered.
Feeling the tension growing, I stood taller and attempted to calm the waters.
“Heather is dead. Leaving her or not isn’t going to change that. We need to keep going if we ever want to figure out how to get out of here. Unless you’re gonna be the one carrying her around, Abby. She has to stay here.”
“You could pretend to give a shit, Lacy,” she ground out.
Huh, funny. I’d just thought the same thing about Ciaran. Now, because she wanted to be cute, I took it back.
“Lana,” I corrected, moving towards the door.
Once I was sure Grace and Mel were following me, I twisted the knob and opened it. I was met with the cool night air and a brick pathway winding through a gorgeous garden situated behind the Blight House.
Stepping outside, I turned my head left to right, keeping an eye out for, well, anything. I didn’t know what we would or wouldn’t encounter in this place, and it was now more apparent than ever that we weren’t alone.
We’d lost three people, possibly four. There was someone cooking gourmet meals, another lurking with arrows, and a person donning a mask like some creepy ass phantom.
I had no idea how any of this correlated, but it wasn’t my main concern at the moment. I just wanted to get the fuck out of here—here being this strange ass city. I took approximately five steps before Ciaran’s voice was carrying from behind me.
“Puppet.”
The way he said it had a chill skirting down my spine. I told myself not to stop, but my legs quit moving forward anyway.
Gracelyn slowed behind me, placing her hands on my hips like she used to when we were young and would go wandering in the woods. I waited, allowing Ciaran to move up beside us.
“You wanna lead?” I guessed.
“Nah,” he replied, sidling past me, close enough that his cool breath fanned across my face. “I want to keep you safe.”
“I think I can do that myself, but I am curious as to why you’d risk your safety for mine.”
“What makes you think I’m risking anything? Maybe I just know what’s best for you, puppet.”
“Stop calling me that.” I scowled at the back of his head. “And that doesn’t even make sense.”
“It will,” Maverick replied for him, moving past us on my other side. Charon and Kyrous were right behind him.
Whatever. If they wanted to be in front, that was more than fine with me. I didn’t even know where we were going. Plus, they could be shields if shit hit the fan.
“Those boys are too arrogant,” Susan huffed.
“They’re something,” Leonard agreed. “You gals go ahead; I’ll spot us from the back.”
I wasn’t going to object to that either. The more eyes the better. Abby already wasn’t going to do anyone any good right now.
As we followed the guys, Margo stayed with her, lending a shoulder to cry on.
The garden’s path wound around a small bend and continued back towards the street. From what I could see through a gap in the fluffy rose bushes, we were going to emerge on the other side of the barrier out front.
“Does anyone hear that?” Mel asked after a minute.
I glanced at her over my left shoulder. “No. What is it?”
Her brows slanted in thought. “…I know the melody, but I can’t place it.”
“Sounds like an ice cream truck,” Selena suggested.
“Why would one of those be in here?”
“Why is any of this crap in here?” Margo muttered.
“Touché,” I quipped, looking forward just as I slammed into one of the twins.
“Shit, sorry,” I cursed, grabbing onto his arm so I didn’t fall on my ass and take Gracelyn with me.
“You’re good,” Charon assured, offering a small smile. “Yo, why did you—what the hell is that?”
Realizing it wasn’t just him who had stopped abruptly, I poked my head around his and his brother’s unmoving forms.
It was easy to spot what had caused Ciaran to freeze in place.
“What’s happening?” Leonard called from the behind us.
“There’s a clown or something standing at the end of the walkway,” Gracelyn answered, speaking loud enough for anyone that couldn’t see around the bend to hear.
Her words prompted a girl to step forward. At first, her face became partially obscured by the shadows dancing through the garden, but then she shuffled forward a bit more and the lamppost near the curb was enough to illuminate her features.
That dim hue made her appear all the paler, but it was clear that she was wearing thick white make-up. Each eye was in the center of a black cross, and her mouth had a Joker-esque grin painted on either side.
I think she had on some sort of dress, but I couldn’t tell for sure. The red and white fabric was skintight and pleated. Her hair was pulled back in two tight buns.
Clasped in her left hand was a bundle of black balloons. In the right, something that strongly resembled a pickax.
“We should turn back,” Susan suggested, her voice starting to shake.
“No,” I whispered. “You never turn your back on someone holding a deadly weapon.”
“You just happened to know that?” Charon mumbled.
“I play a lot of video games,” I lied.
“Is that an ice cream truck?” Maverick asked, his gaze trained on the girl staring back at us.
I finally detected the melody Mel and Selena had just brought up. It sounded more like a mixture between that and the tune of a carousel. There was a low rumble accompanying it.
“He wants to play,” the creepy clown bitch sang, dragging out every word.
Grinning manically, she began to walk backward.
“Who wants to play?” Ciaran asked her.
“They’re coming…!” she sung louder, then turned to skip off.
“We need to go,” Ciaran ordered, surging forward as soon as clown girl vanished from view. There was no argument to be had; it was clearly in our best interests to move our asses.
We emerged from the garden, immediately going left. Sticking together, we moved down the street, everyone on high alert. There were too many damned crevices between the buildings. Every time we approached one, I half-expected someone to jump out at us.
“The truck’s getting closer,” Gracelyn quietly pointed out, “and what sounds like a motorcycle.”
She was right, but where would they come from? Spotting the partial intersection a few feet ahead, I answered my own question.
“Goddammit!” Leonard suddenly yelled.
I twisted around, eyes instantly falling on the clown girl. How had she gotten behind us? Leonard urged Abby and Margo to move faster while she maintained a slow, lazy gait, her pickax hitched over her shoulder, balloons still in hand.
Much like a serial killer.
The screeching of tires had me facing frontward again, pulse jumping as a blacked-out box-styled truck came barreling through the intersection.
A matching motorcycle was seconds behind it, creating its own path as the truck did a sharp U-turn, nearly taking out one of the cars parked by a meter.
“This shit can’t be for real,” Ciaran monotoned.
“Do you need the same speech I gave the girls?” Kyrous asked.
Window facing our direction, the truck’s continuous melody filled the air.
Four people stared out at us, all donning dark hoodies, their faces obscured entirely. Each wore a different mask. Two were LED, pure black with blue and orange X’s marking where the eyes and mouths were.
Another was completely blank. The one that stood out from the rest was half white, the other half blacker than midnight, including the eyes. A distorted cross was painted dead in its center.
Whoever was driving couldn’t be seen. The truck
’s windows were too dark. And the person on the bike had on a helmet that concealed their head entirely, a yellow smiley face painted over the tempered visor.
“Holy shit,” Mel breathed.
Grace grabbed our hands and squeezed, as if to say, “It’s going to be okay.”
She’d done the same when I saw the person in the window. I’d believed her then. Now, I wasn’t so sure.
“There’s more,” Charon stated, gesturing to either side of the street.
On the left, another figure stepped from a crevice, a spiked bat grasped within their gloved hands. To the right came another, this one holding an automatic bow-gun.
My palms began to sweat, my mouth drying out. Not from fear—this was something else entirely, something I didn’t want to usurp.
Behind us, clown girl began to drag the pickax along the cement, the sound akin to nails on a chalkboard.
“What do we do?” Abby cried, her voice shrill and high.
“We run,” Ciaran replied flippantly, “before they surround us.”
“Run where?”
“Away from them.”
He glanced at his friends, and then as if they’d agreed silently, they all took off.
“Great.”
“Go,” Mel implored, shoving me and Gracelyn forward.
It was like they were waiting on us to do just that. The person with the bow lifted it up and powered away, nearly taking out the side of Maverick’s face, just barely missing. He whooped out a taunt when the arrow smashed into a storefront instead, shattering the glass.
Once we bypassed them and the person with the bat, I veered towards the sidewalk to get around the truck. Our shoes slammed against the concrete, breaths coming fast and quick. The truck had yet to move. The masked figures remained where they were, watching us like we were rats in a maze.
“Look out!” Ciaran’s warning carried to the rest of us.
“For what?” Margo coughed, keeping up surprisingly well.
We ran by the truck and got our answer.
An engine revved—the motorcycle leapt forward, the driver holding some type of wound-up chain in one of his fists.
Abby screamed at the sight of him and drew back, bolting from one side of the sidewalk to the other with Leonard hot on her heels. He ignored them and got right behind the rest of our small group, easily and rapidly gaining on us.
My heart slammed against my ribcage, desperately close to smashing clean through.
Ciaran abruptly turned back, weaving around his friends to get to me.
“What are you doing?” I gasped.
“Making sure you stay alive,” he retorted, latching onto my arm.
I didn’t have a choice but to run faster. He would’ve dragged my ass otherwise. I made sure Gracelyn and Mel stayed close. I could hear the motorbike bearing down on us, the loud purr assaulting my ear drums.
“No!” Margo’s abrupt screech nearly caused me to trip over my own two feet. Susan’s followed, full of terror and pain. The motorcycle zipped by us, and I caught a glimpse of her being dragged behind it. The chain that had been around the biker’s fist now had one end wrapping her throat like a lasso.
“Wait,” I huffed, trying to slow down. Ciaran simply tightened his grip, forcing me to keep going.
The motorcycle veered to the right, going back into the street. It did a U-turn in the middle of the road before coming to a sudden stop. Susan’s body was flung across the tarmac like a ragdoll. Bloodied with noticeable patches of skin torn off, she tried to get up, yowling in pain.
“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 scoffe
d.
“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.
“How exactly would they do that?” Mel asked, kicking her sandals off. I was amazed she’d kept them on this entire time. That took skill.
“Track our cellphones.”
“The ones you all so eagerly dumped into an oil drum? Those phones?” I checked, shooting Ciaran a pointed look.
He returned it with an infuriating smirk. “You really going to hold keeping you alive against me?”
“We don’t know what’s happening outside of this place,” I replied to Abby, ignoring him. “Maybe they will find us. I know they’ll realize something is wrong, but do you really want to sit around and wait for that?”
Not to mention Mel couldn’t locate wherever this was using GPS. I was going to keep that tidbit to myself, though. It was liable to push Abby right over the edge.
“Our best chance of continuing to breathe is hinged on all of this.” I waved at the interactive map.
“Are you saying we have to go back out there?” She looked at me, horrified, her dark eyes round and refilling with tears. Ugh.
I did my best not to cringe. I even tried to force a small bit of empathy for this girl, because this situation was horrible.
I failed. My parents would be beside themselves from this lackluster effort. Mom always chastised me when I was younger for being so callous. There was this one time at my riding lessons… a girl fell off her pony and broke her arm. As she cried and cried, I was more concerned about us still getting the ice cream we’d been promised than I was about her being in pain.
I was only around eleven then. My moral compass had changed quite a bit since, but I didn’t have the mental fortitude to handle Abby or her tears. My head was in its own state of discord.
Periculum: Unus (Devil's Playground Book 1) Page 6
