sitting on the floor.
Daniel stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the beast and its prey. He looked half mad with fear, half mad with frustration. “CAMERON! GET UP NOW! LET’S GO!”
She said, “Oh shit! We’ve got to get out of here!”
“COME ON!”
“What?”
“GET UP! GET UP! FOR GOD’S SAKE, GET THE HELL UP OR I’M LEAVING YOU HERE!”
Daniel looked over his shoulder, away from Cameron. What he saw made him feel lightheaded. The creature––the thing, whatever it was––was eating Roger. Eating him quickly, without pause, without hindrance. One big bite at a time, Roger was disappearing. Being swallowed. Being chewed.
Like a fat kid on a cookie , he thought oddly.
Cameron twisted her body to the left, stealing another glimpse.
Both of them saw the same thing now: the creature was consuming Roger’s chest. Blood poured on the floor, onto Patrick. Quite simply, buckets of blood were falling. Neither could believe their eyes. There was more blood rushing out of him than either thought possible. And while Daniel figured the beast would come charging at them within seconds, Cameron was sure the creature’s eyes were not focused on Roger, but on her.
It was watching.
Cameron staggered to her feet, feeling a wave of nausea that made the room spin. Her eyes watered and fluid ran from her nose.
Daniel grabbed her by the hand and pulled.
They were running now, running towards the exit. Daniel was the fast one. Maybe under different circumstances Cameron would be faster. But here, now, it was Daniel. His legs moved quick and efficiently, with strong easy strides, like he was born to run, born to escape impossible situations.
Cameron’s feet slapped against the ground awkwardly, her head was too low, her arms were swinging wildly and her balance was off. She was ready to fall to her knees, twist an ankle, crash.
For Cam’s benefit, Daniel slowed his pace. It was against his better judgment but he didn’t want her to fall a second time. If she did it would be the end of the road for the both of them. Or maybe just her, depending on how he played it.
“Hurry,” he whispered urgently, with his heart trapped in his stomach. “Come on!”
Cameron pulled her hand free from Daniel’s grasp and stopped running. “Wait,” she said. “Oh God wait a minute, please!”
Before Daniel had a chance to protest she put both of her hands on her knees, opened her throat, and her mouth, and vomited. Legs wobbled and hands quivered. Some of the discharge splashed onto her shoes and pants. Some of it made its way into her hair.
Daniel watched the sickness happen. It wasn’t pretty, but it was better then the other event, which he looked at next:
The creature was eating Roger’s remains, which wasn’t much: two legs, a groin and part of a ribcage. It wasn’t an act of violence; Roger was a meal. Whether that was better or worse, Daniel did not know.
Watching Cameron be sick was less disturbing.
And what about Patrick? He wondered. Am I just going to leave him here? Is that the plan?
The first beads of sweat appeared on Daniel’s temple and a wave of helplessness engulfed him. This was bad, so very, very, bad. Pat was about to be eaten alive. He was about to die.
Daniel shook his head, snapping the daze.
He had to be optimistic, not pessimistic. That was the key to everything. Optimism. Confidence. Intelligence. There was still a hope if he demanded it, which is what he would have to do. Demand it.
All is not lost. I can escape this. I can survive.
Yes, but what about Patrick? And what about Cam? Will they survive? Or is it time to look out for number one?
The ladder was close, less than fifteen feet from where he stood.
Cameron was sick again. Behind her, the beast snatched another bite. A leg fell to the ground, splashing in blood.
Daniel could see Patrick. He was alive, trapped beneath the beast.
He couldn’t wait any longer. Waiting, Dan firmly believed, was suicide. And he waited
Daniel stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the beast and its prey. He looked half mad with fear, half mad with frustration. “CAMERON! GET UP NOW! LET’S GO!”
She said, “Oh shit! We’ve got to get out of here!”
“COME ON!”
“What?”
“GET UP! GET UP! FOR GOD’S SAKE, GET THE HELL UP OR I’M LEAVING YOU HERE!”
Daniel looked over his shoulder, away from Cameron. What he saw made him feel lightheaded. The creature––the thing, whatever it was––was eating Roger. Eating him quickly, without pause, without hindrance. One big bite at a time, Roger was disappearing. Being swallowed. Being chewed.
Like a fat kid on a cookie , he thought oddly.
Cameron twisted her body to the left, stealing another glimpse.
Both of them saw the same thing now: the creature was consuming Roger’s chest. Blood poured on the floor, onto Patrick. Quite simply, buckets of blood were falling. Neither could believe their eyes. There was more blood rushing out of him than either thought possible. And while Daniel figured the beast would come charging at them within seconds, Cameron was sure the creature’s eyes were not focused on Roger, but on her.
It was watching.
Cameron staggered to her feet, feeling a wave of nausea that made the room spin. Her eyes watered and fluid ran from her nose.
Daniel grabbed her by the hand and pulled.
They were running now, running towards the exit. Daniel was the fast one. Maybe under different circumstances Cameron would be faster. But here, now, it was Daniel. His legs moved quick and efficiently, with strong easy strides, like he was born to run, born to escape impossible situations.
Cameron’s feet slapped against the ground awkwardly, her head was too low, her arms were swinging wildly and her balance was off. She was ready to fall to her knees, twist an ankle, crash.
For Cam’s benefit, Daniel slowed his pace. It was against his better judgment but he didn’t want her to fall a second time. If she did it would be the end of the road for the both of them. Or maybe just her, depending on how he played it.
“Hurry,” he whispered urgently, with his heart trapped in his stomach. “Come on!”
Cameron pulled her hand free from Daniel’s grasp and stopped running. “Wait,” she said. “Oh God wait a minute, please!”
Before Daniel had a chance to protest she put both of her hands on her knees, opened her throat, and her mouth, and vomited. Legs wobbled and hands quivered. Some of the discharge splashed onto her shoes and pants. Some of it made its way into her hair.
Daniel watched the sickness happen. It wasn’t pretty, but it was better then the other event, which he looked at next:
The creature was eating Roger’s remains, which wasn’t much: two legs, a groin and part of a ribcage. It wasn’t an act of violence; Roger was a meal. Whether that was better or worse, Daniel did not know.
Watching Cameron be sick was less disturbing.
And what about Patrick? He wondered. Am I just going to leave him here? Is that the plan?
The first beads of sweat appeared on Daniel’s temple and a wave of helplessness engulfed him. This was bad, so very, very, bad. Pat was about to be eaten alive. He was about to die.
Daniel shook his head, snapping the daze.
He had to be optimistic, not pessimistic. That was the key to everything. Optimism. Confidence. Intelligence. There was still a hope if he demanded it, which is what he would have to do. Demand it.
All is not lost. I can escape this. I can survive.
Yes, but what about Patrick? And what about Cam? Will they survive? Or is it time to look out for number one?
The ladder was close, less than fifteen feet from where he stood.
Cameron was sick again. Behind her, the beast snatched another bite. A leg fell to the ground, splashing in blood.
Daniel could see Patrick. He was alive, trapped beneath the beast.
He couldn’t wait any longer. Waiting, Dan firmly believed, was suicide. And he waited
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