Blake and Alaire let the nurses wheel Taylor off. Thank goodness, she was looking terrible, Blake thought, he owed her his life. Alaire hadn't said a word since Blake made the call from the payphone. They were exhausted. Talking to the cops had been tiresome, but Blake would answer a million more questions if it meant going back home.
One of the nurses smiled sympathetically and pointed them in the direction of the waiting area. She gave them water bottles, a pack of trail mix, and blankets. Blake drank the entire bottle before they entered the waiting room.
His heart stopped when they entered the room, they weren’t alone. Four rugged looking people were camping out on the pastel couches. A man in a leather jacket was talking in hushed and stern tones to another man with thick brown hair. A gym rat with red hair was curled up next to the arm of the couch, and another guy with glasses was deeply asleep with his mouth open.
The awake ones looked up at them expectantly.
“Three of you?” the one in the leather jacket asked.
“I’m sorry?” Blake said.
“Were there three of you?”
Blake narrowed his eyes, but nodded, “Yeah, one’s being treated, why?”
Leather jacket scooted over and patted the couch cushion, “Sit. We should talk.”
“Ah, well, I’d hate to get blood on the nice couches,” Blake said in a flat tone.
Alaire looked down at her own body. Her jeans were still bloody, and Blake looked like an escapee from a horror film; which they kind of were, Alaire thought.
The girl with red hair spoke softly, “There’s a restroom if you want to clean up.”
“I’d at least like to get the blood off my face,” Blake responded. Alaire was used to Blake’s cool tone during rough situations but it was clear they’d stirred this new group just a bit. After Blake had cleaned his face of someone else’s blood, they all gathered in the waiting room together. For a while, they all sat awkwardly without speaking, and the one with glasses finally arose looking completely bewildered.
“Uh…hey, what’s up,” he fixed his glasses, “Looks like you’re about as giddy as we are…”
“How long have you all been here?” Alaire asked.
“Maybe four hours,” Leather-jacket replied.
“It’s odd,” Blake started, “that we all seem to have similar situations going on here… too similar.”
Leather-jacket took something out of his pocket. In his had was a small piece of paper with the word “each” written on it. Both Blake and Alaire froze, feeling a shock wave of panic through their bodies.
“You… Is this some kind of sick joke?” Blake demanded.
“No, no,” he said, “I mean yes… but we’re victims of the same game.”
“The Thanato Project?” Alaire said.
Everyone fell silent. That’s a yes, Alaire noted.
“So it’s official, we are the fifteen poor souls,” Glasses said.
“Did any of you…” Alaire began to say.
“Some are dead, yeah.”
She flinched. They hadn't been the only ones going through hell. The next moments were spent with everyone sharing their experiences, along with retrieving everyone’s names. It was a lot to remember and take in. Each story was terrifying and unbelievable. Alaire cringed when the man in glasses, Matt, started talking about the spiders.
“How is any of this even possible?” Blake asked, “I mean… Ghost miners? House of theatrical serial killers?”
“Theme park of killer clowns,” Aaron added.
“You guys,” Alaire stepped in, “This is obviously a trap. I mean, how is it we all ended up at the same hospital, and not to mention the absence of supervision and staff around here?”
Aaron nodded, “I was starting to think that as soon as you two walked in…”
“We need to get out of here then,” Blake said. He got up from the couch and started down the hall.
“Where are you going?” Alaire asked.
“To get blondie and blow this Popsicle stand.”
He approached the wing the nurses wheeled Taylor into. Everyone watched him as he barged through the door, but he came to a halt. His eyes were concerned as he moved to the room right next to it, opened the door, and stopped again. Blake speed walked down the entire hallway opening every single room.
“What’s wrong?” Alaire was starting to catch on.
“They’re gone,” he said, “No one is in any of these rooms.”
“What?” Everyone got up.
HELLO FINALISTS
That voice. It was coming over the hospital pager, still sounding distorted and menacing.
“Oh, hell no!” Matt groaned.
WELCOME TO THE LAST EVENT. PLEASE PROCEED TO THE ELEVATOR IN THE LOBBY.
“How about no?” Blake said.
I WOULD RECOMMEND GOING WITH HASTE. WE DON’T APPRECIATE QUITTERS OR CHEATERS.
“Aaron…” the red-haired girl, Katie, pulled on his arm.
Aaron, Katie, Jacob, Matt, Blake, and Alaire all begrudgingly moved into the elevator. It was clear this whole hospital was a set-up now, and escaping was most likely an unrealistic goal. Katie was in tears, with Aaron standing protectively next to her. Matt was moving his arms a lot as if to get his blood flowing. Jacob was silent and exhausted.
“For some reason… I knew it wasn't over yet,” Alaire said to Blake, “It was too easy.”
Blake scowled, “Well, we know we’re dealing with some serious people. People with money and resources. They even had real or fake cops escort us here.”
Alaire watched the elevator door close them inside. A number was automatically chosen for them, and they all huddled closely together, not touching the metal walls. The elevator moaned and started taking them down.
The elevator stopped. Alaire’s pulse was racing. She didn't want the doors to open, but they did, and what she saw confirmed their torment was far from over.
A dark room with six chairs set up awaited them. There was a wall of glass, and on the other side of the glass was another room completely lit with three bathtubs filled to the brim with water, and three bodies trapped in each one.
Andrew, Jane, and Taylor.
“Oh shit…” Blake hissed.
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