Writing's Workshop

11:54 PM

The remnant of a booming rumble echoed through her skull. The sharp piercings of shattered glass poked her gentle skin. Droplets of crimson blood fell and splattered onto the cold, unwelcoming tiles. A strange fluid seeped from a strange platform and filled the nearby area. In the center of the platform was a young girl. She bore chocolate-painted hair and her eyes glimmered with both red and blue. Her left eye held a dark, ruby tint while her right was sky blue. She was wrapped in a white blanket, which had now been stained hideous crimson. The girl had no name — at least that she could recall — and she was asleep, lying on the frigid platform surrounded by that unknown liquid.
It was the alarm that woke her. Like unceasing trumpets, the horns blared as red lights came and went, draping the room in blood and then stopping, only to continue once more. She felt deaf for a moment while her eyes adjusted to her new surroundings; yet, as the girl thought she realized that she could not remember any others. Was this home? She pondered the question for only a second before jolting to the next. Where am I? Who am I? She panicked. Why can’t I remember? She had memories, but they were whispers of a past shrouded in fog. Her breaths quickened as she examined the environment. The walls were built of a shiny stone and the rain that poured from outside — which she had just now noticed — cast shadows onto it. Countertops were attached to the walls; they harbored very little other than scattered documents, files, and a single computer. The screen was black and only flashed the words SECURITY BREACH in large red letters. Above and below the countertops were cabinets. They looked old and their wood was dark and crooked. A single window sat in the room. It was odd, but she couldn’t quite place why. The strangest — and scariest — thing, however, was that the room had no exit. It was a stone tomb that encased her.
The alarm didn’t stop. Now that her ears had adjusted to the alarm’s volume, she thought she could hear sounds outside the room. Screams. They were faint, barely noticeable unless you sought them — but they were there. Where am I? The question surfaced again. At first, she wondered if she was kidnapped and placed in some underground bunker for some vile man to have his way with her; yet, the relentless rain contradicted her theory. Her head twisted towards the window. It beckoned her. She stumbled over to the window — her legs felt like wobbling towers. She peered out.
She was high up — three or four stories above the ground. A parking lot was below her brimming with cars, though she didn’t recognize any. Even if she had, it would have been difficult. The night was young, but the moon was in a waning crescent. The streetlights appeared to be dysfunctional and there were no roads. Trees enveloped the area outside of the parking lot. The building she was in was gray and made of a concrete-like substance. It nearly looked like a prison. For now, though, she sighed a breath of relief that she wasn’t trapped in a cabin deep in the woods.
Her eyes spotted a speaker in the corner of the room. The emergency alarm boomed from the speaker, its sound waves bouncing back and forth and back and forth in both the room and in her ears. The alarm irritated her. She hopped onto one of the counters, avoiding touching any of the electronics, and gripped the box-like device. Wires connected it to the wall. In a decisive motion, the girl tore the speaker from its corner and tossed it onto the floor. The alarm stopped — at least from within the room. She still heard echoes of it from outside, but it wasn’t nearly as loud as it had been. The muffled sirens, however, confirmed an important aspect of her prison — there had to be an escape.
Her first thought led her to the computer. The flashing text stared into her soul. She grabbed the mouse and clicked on the screen. In a flash, the text disappeared and was replaced by a prompt. INSERT ACCESS KEY was written in bold, red letters. She sighed with displeasure and began ruffling through the folders and files littered on the countertop. They all had the similar labels attached to them: “CH-0152” or “CH-0091”. The numbers varied from one to one hundred fifty-eight, but they all shared the same prefix — “CH”. She opened one of the files — this one labeled “CH-0158”. Inside the dusty folder were unintelligible strings of large words she couldn’t understand. This folder only had two papers, unlike the others which had papers spewing from them, which was the reason she was drawn to it. She noted that the words, although unknown to her, were scientific. The first paper she looked at appeared to be an experiment sheet. The second was more of a preliminary update on what she assumed to have been the experiment’s results. Neither paper contained any information that would gift her a password. She tossed the folder onto the ground, which soaked into the liquid layered above the ground. The papers curled in retaliation to whatever fluid spread across the floor.
The girl quickly noticed two things as she watched the folder. She was intrigued by the strange watery substance that appeared throughout the room. It was almost green — like how lime-infused water looked. It didn’t feel acidic, at least from what she could tell. As far as she knew, it could have just been dyed water. The second thing she realized was that she was bleeding — her blood dripped down from her arms and into the liquid, altering its hue. She hadn’t felt the pain until then. Her single garment grew thicker every second as it absorbed more blood. She bit her lip to help pause the increasing amounts of pain wriggling throughout her body. She needed to stop the bleeding.
The girl hobbled down and began opening the lower array of cabinets hiding beneath the countertop. The cabinets held the illusion of having locks, yet they seemed so old that she thought the locks must have broken by now. She peered into the first. Dusty vials were lined up on trays. Inside the vials were colored fluids, ranging from a thick, dark bloody red to a more clear red similar in viscosity to the liquid that had poured onto the floor. Below that were round trays of dead insects whose bodies were decaying. They were mostly flies and beetles; they appeared as though they had been dead for months. She cringed at the sight of them and shut the door. The next cabinet held experimental supplies — beakers, microscopes, and other similar items. Dust viciously clung to each object. Below them, however, was a single bandage wrap. It had clearly been used before, but she didn’t care.
She wrapped both arms with the bandage; her arms squeezed from the tightness. Slowly, the musky brown became darker and redder. It will do for now. Next, she unraveled the white cloak around her and applied the bandage to her chest and abdomen. Glass shards had nestled into her skin, which she removed. After wrapping herself, she reapplied the blood-stained cloak, nearly turning it into a short dress. She breathed for a moment, closing her eyes. I’m okay now. But she wasn’t. She knew within the recesses of her mind that things couldn’t be okay. She awoke in a cold prison, stuck in the middle of the woods as screams of terror fought to reach her through the impenetrable stone walls.
By now the girl understood one fact that terrified her. I was about to be experimented on. She assumed it had been related to the lime, watery liquid she was soaked in. Whatever it was, it drained away her experiences, her friends, and her family. They weren’t completely eradicated, though, as tingling whispers of distant memories stretched outwards toward her. She retained many basic skills and intuitions, she noted. She knew what a computer was and how to use it, so clearly the intent of the experiment was not to remove a person’s every thought. It intrigued her for a moment. What were they going to do to me? No. Focus.
The girl wiggled in place, motivating herself to continue. I need to get into that computer. She approached the desk again, examining the computer to try and spot any labels that might aid her. A bundle of colored wires stretched from the back of the computer and ventured deep into a hole in the wall, spiraling away into nothingness. The monitor had no labels — the computer was boxy and combined the monitor and desktop into one large cube. It was dusty and tan, although it looked as though it had been white at some point. She turned back towards the stacks of papers littered on the countertop. As she examined the countless experiments, an idea crept into her mind. She tilted towards the computer. Access Key. The girl hunched down over the keyboard and typed “CH-0158”. The computer responded. “Access Granted to File: CH-0158. Welcome Dr. Young!” She clenched her fist in success.
As she predicted, she was not granted full access to the computer. In fact, the password acted more as a gateway to the different experiment logs rather than as an actual desktop. She could not see door controls or anything similar; however, a time was listed in the top right corner of the screen: 11:54 PM. No date was displayed, but she figured that having the actual time of day was a step forward in figuring out what was going on. Upon the screen were layers of information outlined in a detailed document not dissimilar from the papers she found lying on the table. She scanned through the information on the screen.

Patient Name: Autumn Finch

Trial Number: #CH-0158

Trial Summary: The modified Sunset Serum had few negative effects on the patient. After injection, the serum appeared to take five minutes to enter the bloodstream and reach the brain as the peak of the patient's brain activity occurred around that time. Reducing the acetylcholine levels in the serum looked to have been the main source of #CH-0157’s sudden outburst as #CH-0158 did not have the same reaction. Depending on the outcome of #CH-0158, managing those levels will become the next essential step in adjusting the serum.

The initial phase of the trial will end in two days, an update will be provided if the subject lives to that point.

There was nothing after that. No log. No text. Just a half-page of a vacant, white screen. She shuddered. The girl stood there for a while. Her mind raced with hundreds of thoughts. She was angry. She was sad. She was hopeless. She was vigorous. The girl didn’t understand why. This place is evil. This is wrong. She didn’t know Autumn Finch. She didn’t know her life; she didn’t even know what she looked like. She didn’t know her story. And now no one would. It was evil. Dr. Young. That was his name. Or her name. She didn’t know. She didn’t care. For a moment, she forgot about her situation. Her prison. Young would pay. Maybe they already did. She turned toward the door.
The alarms and screaming had slowed. Instead, it was replaced by the uncomfortable whispers of an air conditioner. At least I won’t suffocate. The liquid flowed past her legs. That’s odd. The girl was surprised that the fluid hadn’t settled by now. There weren’t drains or anything similar that would cause the liquid to keep moving. She paused and turned around, trying to follow its flow. The liquid traveled to the empty stone wall in front of her. It appeared to seep below the wall, under an invisible crack she couldn’t see. It was escaping.
The girl approached the blank, stone wall. To her right, the shadows of the persisting raindrops were painted into the room. The room was momentarily flooded in a blinding light. The storm’s getting worse. She placed her hand against the wall and knocked. The stone hurt her hand, but she felt the wall’s hollowness. It’s a door. The sound of thunder crashed into the room. The girl breathed deeply. She placed her hands against the wall and pushed. The wall was mostly unresponsive, though she noticed it had moved in a half–inch or so. She breathed again and leaned, putting her weight on the wall.
As the wall moved, it scratched the ground with a loud screech. The girl winced as the wall inched forward. It was attached to a mechanism of some sort as the wall began to slide right. The girl pivoted and shoved the wall to the right. Her arms ached, but after a minute, the wall had slid into a slot carved into the building. She had escaped the room. Her victory, however, was abruptly cut short.
Her sight was obscured. In front of her was a thick red gas that covered the entire room — or hallway. She wasn’t sure what it was. She stopped, squinting her eyes to try and discern anything through the gas. As she did, she stumbled forward. Her eyes drooped. I’m losing consciousness. She fell onto a wall — it was cold and smooth. Her arms slid down the wall as her eyes closed, the gas completely consuming her.

12:47 AM

She opened her eyes. Her head spun as the red fog slowly dissipated, revealing her new environment. It was an old wooden house — a stark contrast to the stone, rigid prison she had just escaped from. Aging wood caged her in a long hallway, which stretched deep into the void beyond. The red mist still floated near the ground. Paintings of faceless men and women were hung every few feet. Their empty heads froze the girl. A new feeling came upon her. It was in her mind — a slow trickle calmly ushering her ahead. She hadn’t felt it in the room, but she felt it now.
She hesitated to move forward; however, after a few seconds, she began to realize what was happening. I’m hallucinating. Her breaths quickened again, each rapid intake becoming shallower and weaker. She closed her eyes once more, praying the nightmare would cease. She crouched to the ground, gently curling herself into a protective shell. She whispered to herself silently for it to all end. But it didn’t.
She sat there for what felt like hours. Sometimes she looked up, only to find that the elderly wooden hallway remained. Afterward, she would sob again, continuing her prayers. It must be a dream. This must be a nightmare. The more she pondered on the idea, the more it comforted her. The transition from that stone room to the wooden hallway had been abrupt — as if it were some tormented dream. No. This is too real. This feels too real. If I want to live, I have to leave. I have to leave. I have to leave. She repeated the phrase in her mind several more times. The trickle increased as her mind raced. The girl sighed; she quaked as she pushed herself up and stood. She took a final breath as she finally began to walk.
With each methodical step, the floor creaked vehemently — practically announcing the girl’s arrival into the haunting halls. The further she walked, the colder it became. Her shivers became less fearful and more from the harsh cold. The red gas also drifted away until it was unseeable. She wasn’t sure whether or not it was there, though it seemed to have disappeared completely. The paintings still hung from the walls, yet they were more sporadic in their appearances. Darkness continued to consume her the deeper she went — not so much physically as mentally, as if a river was rushing through her brain, demanding she find something crucial to herself that was hidden. The river roared. She didn’t mind it, though. It distracted her from the horror surrounding her.
After a few minutes of walking, a strange sound arose. It was a quiet static coming from deeper down the hallway. She stopped, wondering whether to turn back. No. She hadn’t stopped. The river called her forward. She was still walking. The static became louder as the darkness began to fade. Ahead, the girl noticed a small wooden stand. She couldn’t quite make out what was on it, though she continued to walk towards it. She also realized that the hallway ended there, bending in another direction. The fear shrunk slightly, but she couldn’t figure out why. The paintings had vanished by now as she approached the stand.
Upon it was a picture of a family. The man — who had brown hair and stubble across his chin — was vibrant holding his young daughter in his lap. Next to him was his wife, a brunette also, who held a young boy. They looked to be twins around the age of three or four. The daughter’s face, however, was different from the others. It sagged, both her pupils missing from her eyes. Her mouth screamed senseless words. Her eyes, nose, and mouth were shifted from their normal spots, not too out-of-place but just enough to freeze the girl with utter disturbing terror. She stepped away. The river had stopped for a moment. She breathed. Her eyes moved, focusing on what lay to the right of the picture frame.
It was a radio. The static continued to stream from the black box, now much louder. The girl stared at it curiously. The river surfaced once more. She reached her hand out to touch it. As she did, the box instantly went silent — the silence nearly more deafening than the static. A few seconds passed. The river swelled as another sound emerged from the radio. It was a broadcaster. His voice was light and exaggerated.
“Good morning Tornado!” the voice exclaimed with passionate vigor. “We’ve got a lot to talk about this morning; however, we’ve got some big news to announce. After a year of construction, Sunrise Laboratories is officially opening. A note was given to me by the employers to play for all you Tornado folk looking for a new job. I know the large market businesses aren’t doing anyone favors, but you’ll wanna hear this one.” A new voice began. It was feminine and direct as a charming jingle loitered in the background of her speech.
“Interviews will begin in three days. Arrive at the main entrance of the laboratory no later than noon as that will be when doors open. I will be there to welcome you. Wait in the main lobby until the interviewers lead you into the interviewing room. Job openings include data management positions, science-focused positions such as all types of chemists, biologists, and physicists — degrees required for these positions — technicians, and janitors. This offer reaches out from the center Tornado area as numerous messages akin to this one have been broadcast in nearby towns and cities. The interviewing process may take several days so please be patient. Thank you for your time and we hope to see you at Sunrise Laboratories.” The music stopped. An eerie hum entered the room — it was the hum of the light above her, dangling. Watching. The broadcaster returned.
“The creation of Sunrise has already estimated to provide nearly 50 more jobs to the surrounding towns and that number is believed to only rise in the coming years. Thanks to the brilliance of the two founders, Dr. — ” the voice cut off. A deep, agonizing groan came from the radio. The girl’s heart dropped for a moment, inching away from the wooden stand. The sound only got louder. She stumbled to the hard wooden floor, her eyes locked onto the radio. She tried to look away but the river in her mind forced her gaze. The groan quickly became a scream. It was of a young girl, though it was hardly noticeable. Despite the slight feminine tone of the sound, it was heavy and slow. It hurt to listen to. The girl closed her eyes and as she did, the screaming halted, returning to the broadcaster who resumed his monologue.
“Sunrise Laboratories has delivered hope to a struggling people. Through hard work and determination, the partners toiled together, forging a bond and building a company from the ground up. Their story is a successful demonstration of how far labor, education, and dreams
can take you in life. But more on their stories later…” The radio faded back into static. The girl sat there for a minute, her eyes shifting between the picture and the small black radio. Had that been that girl? She didn’t know. The voice was so distorted she could hardly even tell if it had been from a woman. She stepped away a little more.
That’s when she saw it. Two white dots watching her from the darkness. The hallway had stopped and turned left, and far down the wooden hall were two white eyes staring at her. Their eyes locked. They weren’t human, but simply two miniature circles illuminated in the dark. The girl stood erect. Whatever beast it was it was far away, but it was tall — the eyes were at least seven feet off the ground. She tried to scream, her mouth opening agape. But no sound came out. The hollow hum of the light persisted. A few seconds passed. The eyes shifted, moving to the left and out of sight. She presumed the monster had been standing by a corner. How long was it watching? How did I not notice it earlier? The girl mentally scolded herself.
The river returned. It stopped for a moment, once she locked eyes with that thing, but now it was back. She took a step forward and began inching down the hallway. Inching towards where that monster had been. Her heart dropped, but she couldn’t stop herself. The river was too strong. She could hardly think. It was too much. This was too much. But her mind wouldn’t even allow her to process what she had seen. It forced her ahead. Each step felt louder than the last, violently echoing through her skull. The hall grew darker and darker. Colder. The paintings that had lined the walls had disappeared. All the walls became more cracked the further she walked like the very house she inhabited was dying.
She wandered for what seemed like hours down the same hallway. In reality, she knew, it had only been a few minutes. But it hadn’t felt like it. Another sound appeared. It was a quiet static again. Another radio? To the girl, the last radio hadn’t made any sense. She thought it was her mind playing tricks on her since she had awoken in a laboratory. Maybe it’ll tell me who I am. She hoped it, but she didn’t believe it.
The hallway stopped once more, bending both left and right this time. An intersection. Another small table stood before her. It was the same photo as before, but it had been changed. The young boy’s face now sagged to the floor, his facial features splattered across his face like blood. He was crying out in pain. That wasn’t even the worst part. The little girl had been further mutilated. The young girl the photo stared at was staring at her. One of the child’s eyes had completely disappeared; the other was black and hollow. A strange, viscous liquid poured from it as well as her mouth, nose, and ears. Her arms were broken and her legs appeared shattered. The girl — the real girl — wanted to vomit just looking at her. It was disgusting her mind had taken her here. But she couldn’t stop looking. The river rushed.
The girl looked to her right, down at the radio. It was the same as the one earlier — a little black box. She inhaled deeply, wrangling control of her own body for a mere moment before her hand touched the radio. The static stopped. What sounded like deep, heavy breathing accompanied by the occasional visceral scream played in the distant background as the broadcaster from before — whose voice was considerably dragged out and deeper — announced a new alert.
“Apologies for interrupting your scheduled programming. Heartbreaking news this morning as of 3:48 AM, police have discovered the body of one—” the broadcaster stopped. For a few seconds, the awful, distorted screams became unnaturally loud, rattling the girl. The broadcaster quickly continued.
“—at an uninhabited house. The police have refused to give the address. The parents have declined to comment after filing their children as missing a few days ago. While not necessarily pressing news to the public, as we understand, the, uh, state of the boy compelled Chief Officer Reggie Johnson to make a statement about the matter. Chief Jackson will make another public statement about the incident at noon today.” The voice changed. It was a gruff, harsh tone that provided further dialogue.
“Hello. At approximately 2:36 AM, we received a tip that the children missing could be found at the address of that uninhabited home mentioned earlier. I will not give an address at this time to protect the integrity of the crime scene. Police stormed the house at 3:03 AM. The state of the house was in disrepair and our officers struggled to locate the missing children. After ten minutes of searching, they were inconclusive in their search until one of our officers discovered what appeared to be a bookshelf covering a door. After sliding it, we found a hidden basement that led down into a dark and—” Reggie paused for a moment. “—and simply disgusting. It was tight and smelled awful. In the center of the room, we found the body of the young boy.
“He had been cut open from the chest. Many of his central internal organs were… removed from the body. They were scattered on top of a nearby table along with a variety of microscopes and other biological equipment. The boy had recent red marks on his throat, indicating that the boy was conscious for some part of this process or after. The boy’s twin sister was unable to be found at the scene and we currently presume she was taken to another location. There are no leads at this time and we request your patience as we investigate.
“We wanted to alert everyone to the situation due to its severity. Please, to prevent more of these cases we ask that you lock your doors and windows and follow a strict 8:00 PM curfew. While the curfew cannot be enforced by law, we request you abide by it for the sake of your and your children’s lives. The murder is being investigated thoroughly so there is no need for panic — simply follow the measures we’ve again and you will be safe. Thank you for your time.”
The radio static returned. The girl stared at the box, the river tearing across her mind. What was that? Thoughts of that young boy painted themselves in her mind. His body was cut open? She winced in disgust at the thought of the officer’s description. Why am I being shown this? At first, she believed her mind was trying to help reclaim her memories, but it was clear to her this was something else entirely. It was disturbing. It was disgusting. It was horrid. She just wanted to go home. Where’s home? The question gnawed at her. Even if she escaped whatever hell she found herself in, the girl had nowhere to go. She didn’t even know her own name. No. Just focus on getting out. You have to.
The girl inhaled, the stale air instilling a faux confidence within her. She turned and began to examine the pathways. Both hallways were the same — long, conniving stretches of unnerving darkness that spiraled for eternity. No eyes were watching her anymore. She was alone. That’s a lie. She could feel it — that frozen feeling when someone’s eyes lay upon you. It made her shudder, but the river pushed her forward. The endless hum of the lights above her grew louder.
She chose the left path. Every step reverberated within her mind as she steamed ahead in total terror. As she walked, a burning sensation arose. The girl searched for the feeling, looking down at herself. Her arms were soaked in blood. But it wasn’t blood — she realized. It was too bright to be blood. The last time she checked her injuries, the wraps were stained by a muddy mix of reddish-brown. Now, they were soaked in a brilliant red. She paused, thinking to herself. I’ve seen this color before. She looked as though she was bleeding the red serum she uncovered in the office. It was as though her mind itself had wanted her to see that. It was trying to remind her of something. But what? She tried to ponder over it, but the river resumed its rage, taking control of her once more and pressing onward.
Minutes passed. While she walked, the girl noticed that the hall began to narrow, shrinking slowly — barely noticeable, but just enough to recognize after a couple of minutes. She tensed, her arms flexing in a form of self-defense. She prepared herself for the monster she saw to spring from the darkness to kill her. She squinted her eyes, trying to peer into the dark murk ahead of her. The hall continued to shrink. In the distance, the girl caught the gleam of a small sparkle. It wasn’t the white dotted eyes she spotted earlier, but the metallic reflection of the old lights hanging above. It was an iron door that fit snuggly into the hallway. A single handle was attached.
The girl approached it. Her reason demanded she run. It’s a trap of some kind. Stop. But the river roared. Her arm reached out. Stop. She grasped the handle. Stop. She began to pull. Stop! The door followed her command. Stop!
She paused. She had done it. The river was gone. She was in control again. But it was too late. The door was open and she could see inside the room. It was a hollow bedroom. A window was ajar in front of her — she could feel the gentle breeze brush against her. Two beds sat in the corner of the room. Empty. The bed sheets were scattered, some of them lying on the floor while others clung to the mattress. A single withering shelf sat between them — a lamp sat upon it. The lampshade was old and decaying. There was a closet left open to her right, though nothing was inside. The girl walked into the room.
The door behind her slammed, causing the girl to jump. She stopped, her eyes darting from the bed to the stand, to the window, to the closet in a rapid, incoherent movement. Her pupils dilated. She turned to face the open window. The fresh air was nice and a stark contrast to the musty, stagnant air that filled the halls. The girl approached the windowsill as the moonlight shone upon her face. She gazed out — staring upon an empty forest. The trees were thick and swayed in the wind. For a moment, she thought she saw a dark silhouette staring at her, but the moment she noticed it — it disappeared. She wasn’t sure if it had shrunk into the woods or if it was a shadow playing tricks on her eyes; nonetheless, it rattled her.
A thunderous boom came into the room. It had come from the door behind her, which transformed into a fragile, wooden door. The girl shrieked, tripping and falling against the window. She caught herself on the sill and stared at the door. Another crash echoed — the door shook from the impact. It’s the monster. I knew it was a trap. The girl gazed back at the window. It’s too high. I’ll die. Another crash. In a panic, the girl hastily searched the room in hopes of finding an escape. Another crash. I have to hide. She looked at the closet. Another crash. The door was breaking. The girl flew into the closet, promptly shutting the closet door. Another crash, this time followed by the sound of shattering wood.
The girl suppressed a scream. The sunken echo of wind wailed. A pounding footstep smashed into the ground, shaking the room. A second followed, this one barely louder than the other. It’s coming to the closet. She shrunk, begging for freedom in silence. The footsteps got closer until stopping. She could hear its labored breaths. Oh no. A hand grasped the outside of the closet. The girl closed her eyes and told herself goodbye.

1:01 AM

It was silent for a moment. Not completely — the wind still dashed through the room. But it felt silent to her. I’m not dead yet?
“What are you doing in my closet?”
She looked up. It was a four-year-old girl — the same as the pictures on the desks, but she wasn’t broken. She was dressed in an oversized pink t-shirt that covered her whole body. A stuffed bear was cradled in her arms. “I’m Charlie,” the child said, swaying the bear from side to side. The girl paused for a moment before responding. What.
“Hi. Charlie,” the girl responded — each word a sentence of its own. “Where am I?”
“You’re in my closet,” Charlie responded. “What’s your name?” The question stung. The girl winced slightly.
“I…” the girl said. “I- uh… I don’t know.” Charlie tilted her head.
“That’s okay! We can give you a new name! Is there a name you like?” Charlie’s excitement both comforted and frightened the girl.
“I’m not… sure. Where am I exactly? Other than you’re… uh… closet.” The girl started to stand up, emerging from her ball.
“Your mind,” Charlie said bluntly. “I think you breathed that red gas stuff and it took you straight here. It’s been lonely. My brother’s gone and I don’t know where he is?” Charlie paused, looking up at the girl. “Do you know? Have you seen him?”
The girl didn’t answer. “He had been cut open from the chest. Many of his central internal organs were removed from the body.”
“No, I’m sorry. I haven’t seen him.” The girl hesitated for a second, staring at the child. “Why are you here? I mean- in my mind, I guess.” Charlie stopped and looked up at her.
“I dunno. I woke up here a while ago — I don’t remember how long though. It’s always night here. I thought it was just my house until you woke up. I was able to look through your eyes. It was really weird at first, but then it was kinda fun.”
“How,” the girl began, “How does that work? You can just see through my eyes?” Charlie nodded.
“Yep! My eyes show your eyes. It’s like a television screen.” The girl’s face dropped. Can she control me? Is she my mind? No. A hallucination — it has to be.
“What do you do? When I’m not… you know… awake?”
“Well, you’ve only really been awake once that I remember. The other times when you’re not I just walk around. I wait ‘till I’m tired and then I just go to sleep. Though I can’t really go to sleep. I kinda just sit there and close my eyes.”
The girl stared at Charlie. What is going on? Is this my mind? Why is that girl in here? Is this my… consciousness? The girl took in a deep breath. She bent to a knee, leveling herself with Charlie.
“Do you know why you’re here? Are my conscious or something?” Charlie smiled.
“No, I don’t think I am,” Charlie began. “I just showed up one day so unless you’re five days old or something like that I don’t think so. I don’t remember much,” her face sulked for a moment. She tightened her grip on the bear. “But that’s okay.” The girl’s heart hurt. She didn’t understand what her mind was showing her, or even if it was simply a hallucination, but she felt sad for the child.
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll figure it out soon enough.” As the girl spoke, she realized something. She wasn’t only saying this to comfort Charlie — she was saying it to comfort herself too. Everything that happened to her in the past few hours terrified her. It was horrifying. You’ll figure it out. The girl glanced into Charlie’s eyes. They were ruby, glimmering in the moonlight. Those eyes. She thought back to that hallway. Those white, bright dots watching her.
“Have you seen anything in the hallways?” the girl asked. The words spilled without her thinking. Charlie gazed into her eyes. They were bottomless and foreboding. Her pupils contracted. “Stop,” they said. The girl shut her eyes, lifting her head down in concession.
“Nevermind. Don’t worry about it. Just sleep or rest or whatever.” The girl smiled at Charlie, who nodded and turned, walking toward one of the beds. The sheets drifted off the ground from the draft. The child jumped into the right bed, reaching to grab the blankets off the floor. Instinctively, the girl jogged over, helping the child by placing the sheets over her. Charlie smiled.
“Thank you.” She had a child-like lisp in her voice. “I think you need to go now. It’s not safe where you are. I saw a little bit before you went to sleep.” The girl froze. It’s not safe? What does that mean?
“Oh. Okay. Well then, how do I… leave?” she asked, shaking slightly. She looked around the room.
“I dunno. I thought you’d know. It’s your mind,” Charlie said nonchalantly. “Can you close my closet?” The girl smirked.
“Yeah,” she replied. She trotted to the closet, clutched the small knob, and shut the door. Charlie grinned.
The girl returned to Charlie’s bedside, examining the room for a possible exit. Maybe the window? No. You’ll die. There has to be a way out. As she thought, Charlie reached out her hand. The girl gently grabbed it. As she did, a wave of nausea fell over her. It was as if her brain demanded she stop. The girl released her hand, but the sickness remained.
“Thanks!” Charlie said. Her words were faint — almost draining. The girl stumbled back onto the bed. “Woah-” the girl heard Charlie say. The letters were scattered and disorienting. The room twisted and turned. She collapsed to the ground as her eyes faded into darkness.
1:16 AM

When she awoke, the gas had cleared out — either dissipating or being whisked away by whatever ventilation system the laboratory used. She discovered herself propped up against the wall of a strange hallway — it went down for a while and then jutted right. Thick, metal doors were lined around every forty feet. A chipped, red stripe was painted against the wall. Each door carried tiny white words upon them, but they were difficult for the girl to make out. An awful scent filled the hall. The fluorescent lights flickered on every few seconds until flashing off for several minutes. One of the light’s covers hung near the ground. A dark, bloody handprint grasped the translucent covering, smudging itself down and away.
Those screams. The handprint made her think back to the muffled screaming she had heard when she awoke. That deafening alarm tried to warn these people. Warn them of what? What did Charlie say? It wasn’t safe. She staggered upward and probed the environment. The eerie lighting made it difficult to examine the area. Oh no.
Throughout the hallway were the corpses of scientists. The fresh scent of newly-rotted flesh crept around her. It was disgusting. She pulled her cloth dress over her nose to try and block the smell, but it didn’t work. There were at least six, each one varying in condition. One man’s head dripped blood from the forehead, but the rest of his body remained intact. The others were different. They looked like torn dolls that a feral dog had played with. Bloodied limbs lay near the bodies they were ripped from. The girl met the eyes of one of the men. They were empty. Dead. Hollow. He was crying out in pain — his mouth still open. The floor around him was stroked in a rich, sulking red. His face and exposed limbs were odd, though. They blistered horribly, almost as though he had been burned.
Why don’t I care? The thought petrified her. She knew that had she woken up to this scene, she would have broken down in terror, frozen in incomprehension; but now, she felt nothing. It was as though her mind had numbed itself to its environment. The idea that her mind was capable of that worried her. She took a deep breath again.
“Autumn?” a voice muttered. It was shallow — it was clearly a breathless husk of what it had once been. “What… what are you doing here?” The voice struggled to pronounce each word. The girl searched for the voice’s location.
It was one of the men. She didn’t notice him because — to her — he seemed to be dead. His right arm was missing completely, the stump that remained dripping blood onto the tiled floor. The man lay on the floor, dragging himself towards her with his other arm. His eyes were hardly visible, covered by hideous blisters. From the bumps, she noticed that a seething, red liquid poured from them. It was the same liquid that bled from her arm during the hallucination. It was the same serum she had found in the cabinet.
“Autumn, hello?” the voice mumbled again. The girl finally recognized the words the man spoke. Autumn? The girl from the log? The- She wavered. No. No. The girl hesitantly pointed at herself in an attempt to verify what she had already realized. The man nodded.
I’m Autumn. I was experimented on. That- what. She contemplated the idea earlier but ignored it. The log clearly stated that the girl had died. At least, I thought it did. I mean. I guess it didn’t I suppose I-
Her thoughts were jumbled. That name it’s… it doesn’t sound right. That… that can’t be my name. No. It is unmistakable. You are Autumn. You have to be. It makes sense why the log never finished — you escaped. Escaped? Or saved? By what? She didn’t know. Her thoughts bounced hurriedly. Autumn…
“Autumn, what are you doing here?” the voice asked forcefully. Each word sounded painful and hoarse. He crawled a little more and looked into her eyes. As he stared, his expression changed. A solemn face befell him. Autumn took a knee beside him.
“You don’t know me,” he said. “You don’t remember me, do you? I can see it. On your face.” Autumn could see him clearer now. His brown, ruffled hair was stained by his own blood. A once-white lab coat was ripped at and had several claw markings, revealing cuts and bruises beneath. A name tag was around his neck. Dr. Goldstein. The name was unfamiliar to her.
“No,” Autumn replied. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember.” The man turned away from her. He began to laugh. After a second, though, he triggered a cough. It was wet and coarse. Red serum splatted onto the floor. He stopped a moment later.
“It’s okay,” he said, taking in a breath. “It’s not your fault. What they did to you. I can see it. In your eyes. You have it’s eyes.” Autumn faltered back, her eyes narrowing.
“What?” she replied. Goldstein shook his head.
“Never mind. It’s not—” he struggled for a moment, “—important. You have to leave. You have to—” he paused again, “—get out of here. It’s not safe. What it did to me. It’ll do to you.” Autumn pushed herself away from the bleeding man. He threw out his hand to stop her.
“Stop. I need you. To listen.” Every few words he inhaled an agonizing breath. “The doors. The main doors. They’re shut down completely. Hill got these— these metal doors. It locks down during an emergency.” His mind drifted. “He said it was to keep us safe. It was a lie. It was to keep it in.” He screamed in a sudden wave of pain, fondling his chest with his ripped arm. He buried his face into the floor. The shout echoed through the hallway, causing her to shiver. What is it? Did it hear that?
“What are you talking about? What is it?” Autumn asked. Her voice quivered. She processed the man’s injuries. Until now, she hadn’t thought much about what had done to him. The ripped arm. The scratches. The blood. No. Her mind returned to the eyes watching her in the hallucination. What if that was real? Was it watching me? It was big. Was it capable of this? The river was back. It was a slow drip. She inhaled. Goldstein gathered his strength and began.
“We called it Sunset. The details aren’t important. But it’s big—” his eyes widened. It was as though he was staring into the eyes of the darkest evil. His breaths quickened. “I can’t. I can’t even describe it. I never saw it. But— you’ll know it when you see it. But if you do. It’s too late. It’ll kill you. It’s a predator. A hunter. Hiding is worthless. Mostly. I don’t know. Maybe you can make it. We didn’t try. Someone did. I heard him scream. I think he’s dead.” The man looked down, his eyes glistened in reflection.
“I never even worked on it.” He ignored Autumn as he spoke. These were his last moments. He knew it. I know it. This is wrong. “Not directly. I just worked on— the serum.” He gazed down at his arm. He took a hard breath.
“Look,” the man continued. “I can’t— I can’t make it. You can. Your dad. We both worked here.” The man stopped for a moment. He had a look of contemplation plastered upon his face. He sighed.
“He’s gone. That’s him.” He pointed at the bloodied man. He was the only one who hadn’t lost limbs. Blood poured from his head. Dad? She watched him for a moment — the corpse. It sat there. Motionless. She felt nothing. She had no attachment to him. The man wasn’t even recognizable to her. His face was unfamiliar. She hoped a spark of life would catalyze her memories’ return, but there was nothing. The river, however, bellowed. Whatever they had done to her. No — whatever Dr. Young had done to her — it had robbed her of her humanity. As she stared at the dead man, her own father, she felt nothing. A husk controlled by an apathetic parasite. She crouched against the wall and placed her head into her hands. I feel nothing. She took a deep breath. No. You’re losing yourself. You will heal. You need to leave. That’s not your dad. Not anymore. The man watched her.
“I see,” he began. It’s okay. It’s for the better. Really. You can just focus on— on getting out. That’s what’s important anyway. Escaping. As I said. The main exits are— completely shut off. Hill made sure they were— invincible. But there’s— a way out. An emergency exit. On the second floor. It’ll take you down— down the back of the building. I think it stays— open anyways. You can get out. The stairs. Hill was very sly. Each staircase only goes— to the floor below. We had designated times to— use the elevator. So we couldn’t— see anything other than our area. You’ll— have to find the— the stairs on the third. To get out.
“If— when you do. Find a police station. There should be one. Close to town. I know them well. They will help you. There’s a man. Henry. He’s an officer. He can help. He will protect you. He’s probably outside now. I don’t think he can get in. The doors— they’re impassible. Knowing him, though, he’ll find another— another way inside. But. You’re not there yet. That’s for later. So don’t— don’t worry about that right now.
“You’re inside. And you have it inside you. The serum. I don’t know how. Or why. Maybe they— wanted to see other— effects or something. I’m sorry they— they did that to you. I guess— memory loss is a— a side effect of some sort. But you have it. They will use you. They want you. You can’t trust anyone— not in here. The serum. It calls it. It wants it. To survive. It needs it. The people. I don’t know who’s left. Maybe I’m being paranoid. They may be dead. No. They’re dead. I think. I’m not sure. I thought— I heard talking. Down. On the third floor. Maybe that thing can talk. I was never near it enough to know what it could do. Sorry. I’m—”
Autumn knew what was happening. She pitied the man. The thoughts going through one’s head before they were about to die. She knew they were beyond her understanding. She was simply grateful he was helping. See. You’re not a husk. You care for him. You’re still in there, Autumn. She liked the name Autumn. At first, it didn’t feel right. But now, it was growing on her.
“—losing it. Rambling. Just. Be wary— of who you trust. In here. It’s bad. Bad people. I’m one of them. But. I see that. Now. We shouldn’t have done it.” He was muttering to himself now. “We shouldn’t have done it.” Done what? She shuddered. “Oh— I’m fading. Just. Go. Second floor. Find exit. If you see it. Hide. Or run. It won’t— be careful. Don’t trust anyone.” His final words trailed off. The man shrunk to the ground. His hollow eyes stared into hers. Fear.
She had never seen death before — at least that she knew of. She hadn’t watched as the frigid grasp of death clasped onto another person’s soul, dragging them beneath to their eternal home. It was disturbing. The man seemed at peace with it — well not quite at peace, but it was clear to her that he foresaw death’s arrival before it seized him. It hurt. She didn’t even know him, but it hurt. Whatever this place had done to her, it had done to him worse. “It’s bad. Bad people. I’m one of them. But. I see that. Now.” What did he mean by that? It didn’t matter. Not now. Whatever “it” he helped create had killed him. She didn’t know how to feel. The situation around her was bleak. Hopeless. Right then, she was surrounded by death, yet instilled with an unimaginable hope that she could find freedom. Find life. I have to leave. I will find freedom. The laboratory did something to her. She felt as though it blocked her mind from comprehending her environment. But that was okay for now.
“Thank you,” Autumn whispered, rising to her feet. She shut her eyes for a moment. There was only the gentle whir of wind and rain pounding upon the roof of the laboratory. The lime fluid that had seeped from the room now settled into cracks between the tiles. She was alone, surrounded by hollow people who had been born to be torn by their own creation. It was too late for them, but not too late for her. The glint of determination swelled within her eyes.

A bulky door stood before her. The words Project: Sunset Lab #3 were painted upon it. Beneath the words were shadows of other letters left behind — she couldn’t make them out. She closed her eyes once more and grasped the door handle. It was bitter cold. She noticed the door was not completely closed. A little rectangular window peered into the room, but it was too dark to make out anything. With a strong push, the door swung open. Autumn stumbled into the room.
Raging darkness consumed her. Her pupils narrowed, yet she could still see nothing. Lights. Autumn smacked her hand against the wall. Her hand was that of a seal, flopping to try and hit the light switch. A blinding light flowed into the room.
It was a tight room. Black counters outlined the interior, upon them sitting shattered beakers and bloodstained vials. A stubby, metal pillar rose from the ground, which bloomed into a black, circular table. On it was a dead man. His face and body were blistered terribly. His eyes, nose, mouth, and ears poured the red serum onto the table. It blended with the blood, creating a pool of disturbing, viscous crimson. The smell was awful. She approached the corpse. His arms had been removed and a thick red streak was painted across the table. The scene nearly looked like a bear attack.
His mouth was still open like the others — their jaws left ajar as whatever horror they produced slaughtered them one by one. Her dad was the lucky one. Around his neck was a nametag. Dr. Martin. She glanced down at the puddle of red on the table. For a moment, she thought to touch it. That’s inside of you — that concoction of blood and serum. She stared into the liquid. Her reflection looked back at her. She hadn’t noticed her eyes until now. Their color. They were different. It was hard to tell due to the redness of the serum mix, but it was clear. But there was something worse. Something more terrifying to her. In her pupils were two, white dots. She took a deep breath, thinking back to that creature. Watching her. Stalking her. It’s just the lights. They’re reflecting off the puddle and bouncing into your eyes. It’s okay.
She stepped away from the table. On the floor to the table’s right were the man’s arms. Bloodied tissue surrounded them, causing Autumn to nearly vomit. In them, however, was a file. It had been stained in blood. She knelt, daintily retrieving the file from the crimson pool. She cringed as she picked it up. Blood dripped from it, dropping and splattering onto the ground. Inhaling a full breath, she took the file and placed it onto a clean portion of the counter. If I wanna get out, I need to know what I’m facing. I need to know what happened. The river viciously ravaged her mind. I need to know. I will find freedom. She barely grabbed the tip of the file and slowly pulled it open.
Inside of the brown folder was a single piece of paper. Miraculously, it was hardly stained other than the paper’s slight coral tint. The words were clearly legible and mixed with both typed prompts and hand-written responses.

Sunrise Laboratories: Formal Request Paper

Date: 11 - 24

Project Reference: Sunset

Subject: The Sunset Gas

Description: The sunset gas is too volatile and transmittable and I fervently believe that we ought to cancel the production of it immediately. I have come to this conclusion due to the already blistering nature of the liquid Sunset serum’s effect when in contact with human skin. This is especially evident after the accidents that occurred with both Dr. Lyle and Dr. James. By transforming the serum into a gaseous state, it will become easier for incidents like these to occur and could lead to a higher accident rate than we already have. This paired with the abrupt nature in which we were given this project and the encouragement from Section A that we cut corners has made me increasingly worried about what might happen. I understand that the February deadline is quickly approaching and that we’ve already requested an extension for the project, but I cannot further state that the creation of the gas will simply result in more accidents. I ask that you listen to the request and that we find another way to administer the serum to Project: Sunset. Thank you.

Status: DENIED by Dr. Hill

Autumn realized something as she read the document — she didn’t know what year it was. The file gave the month and day, but there was no year. It doesn’t matter right now. Not now. She shook her head. The document appeared to be somewhat dated since the request had already been denied. A whistleblower? He was trying to leave when it happened. He was gonna leak it. That’s why he had the file. She pitied the man, but she was somewhat thankful for him. The file revealed an important detail about the gas. It was volatile. The gas that was in the hallway. That’s what blistered their bodies. Her mind paused for a moment. Why didn’t it affect me the same way? That’s important.
There was very little else in the room. The cabinets brimmed with supplies and viles filled with muted liquids that she didn’t recognize. Shattered glass was scattered across the countertops. Droplets of drying blood were spattered along the black surface. At the end of the counter, a clump of blood was painted onto the wall. His head had been smashed against it.
In the center of the room, melded into the table, was a tall sink. A sudden wave of thirst washed over her. She hadn’t even thought about food or water until then, but as she watched the water slowly drip from the faucet, her throat dried. Autumn winced, staring at the man propped against the faucet. She closed her eyes and pushed him onto the tiled floor. He fell to the ground with a deafening thud. She flinched again. I’m sorry. She wasn’t. Her hand reached out and gripped the faucet handle. The occasional water droplet transformed into a flowing stream. She moved her head beneath the water and drank. Relief surged through her. Unlike the rest of the laboratory, it was pure. It was cold. Time froze. For a single moment — everything was okay.

Autumn contemplated taking the document with her, but the makeshift dress held no pockets to put it in. She sighed and abandoned the paper. The room, despite the corpse that now lay on the floor, made her feel safe. It was irrational, but she didn’t care. Now, though, it was time to leave. The second floor. She didn’t even know what floor she was on now — she guessed the fourth due to what Goldstein had told her. “I thought— I heard talking. Down. On the third floor.” It’s time. She took a deep breath and walked out of the room.
There were more rooms. Most shared a similar name to the other room — Project: Sunset Lab — but the number on each door was different. She wondered how many more people had been killed in those rooms trying to hide from whatever beast was hunting them. A part of her wanted to investigate each room, but she decided not to. There was something in here. Something big. “It’s a predator. A hunter. Hiding is worthless.” If he was right, that means I have to find a way out. Now. The second floor. There wasn’t a staircase nearby her. As she thought, however, a sudden sound rolled through the hall.
It was the ding of an elevator. She hadn’t noticed it until now, but one of the doors was different from the others. It was smooth and metallic, although blood was still smeared upon it. The darkness had concealed the elevator door but now, with the swift sound of a whir, it opened. Light poured into the hall as two silhouettes appeared.

1:25 AM

“This is disgusting,” one of the men said. His voice was youthful — he sounded about the same age as her. A brown, thin leather coat was draped over him. Something long protruded from the back of the coat, but she couldn’t discern what it was. He gagged. Autumn shrunk into the shadows. “What happened to these people?” Another voice emerged. His was older and rugged. He too had a leather coat, though his was thicker and darker. She discerned the shadow of a pistol in the darkness. He’s got a gun.
“The radio dispatcher claimed there was an emergency at the lab. He didn’t go into much detail, but he claimed that something got out. I’m under the impression that he probably died — either from whatever escaped or from his own partners. I wouldn’t be surprised if the latter is the case simply because normally people that end up in this position are have been doing something bad. Really bad.” The man who spoke was taller and had a wider base. His voice was rugged, but coherent and thoughtful. The other man was slimmer. The older man retrieved a flashlight and examined her father’s corpse.
“He’s got blisters all over his body,” he said. “Perhaps it was some kind of contaminant — like a gas.” Autumn’s eyes widened. Who are these people? “I don’t know, though. It could be anything. No point in speculating.” The slimmer man knelt and joined the examination. He grabbed the man’s nametag and spoke.
“Dr. Estes. That’s— that’s Autumn’s dad.” They both paused. “You don’t think that— that she’s somehow involved in this?” Her eyes widened. They know me. How do they know me? Is this—
“I doubt it. Her dad’s been working here for the last three years. I believe he was simply caught up in whatever happened. The disappearances haven’t been local either. They’ve been happening across the county, which— well it would maybe would link it back to here. I don’t know. They were clearly doing some inhumane experiments here so I suppose I shouldn’t put it past them to experiment on their own children. I definitely wouldn’t put it past Hill. That man was odd.”
Hill. It was the third time that name had appeared. Who is that? He was important somehow. Did he own the lab? He denied that man’s request, so perhaps he was the head scientist or something. She shook her head, shooing away her thoughts. Her attention returned to the two men. The younger man looked down at her father’s coat.
“Look, there are scratch marks. At least that’s what it looks like. I think— I think maybe a person did this. Or an animal? Maybe they were testing on a bunch of feral animals or something.” The older man tilted his head.
“What the—” He stopped, using his flashlight to look around at the other bodies. He turned away from her and crouched toward another dead man. The corpse’s right leg had been torn off. “Miles, come look at this.” The younger man, Miles, stood up and walked toward him. He bent down and grasped the corpse’s lanyard. He yanked it back, causing the string-like section to split in half. He slid it into his coat pocket. “There’s a man. Henry. He’s an officer. He can help.” Goldstein claimed he shouldn’t have been able to get in. Did they know she was here? Were they tricking her so she’d reveal herself? She listened intently.
“Oh,” Miles whispered. “He’s got the blisters too. On his face.” The older man — Henry presumably — sighed and gazed up at Miles.
“I think you’re gonna need to go back. Take the elevator and use the vent to try and escape, alright? This— you’re too young for this. You’re not ready. Watch yourself as you leave and try and contact the other officers. They’re probably asleep right now but tell them to go in the same way we came.” Miles grumbled. A vent? Goldstein didn’t say anything about a vent. Was that too obvious?
“I’m not leaving you here alone. We’re both going and getting help right now,” Miles declared. “Come on.” He marched to the elevator. An abrupt urge came upon Autumn. She wanted to shout for help, but Goldstein’s words came back to her. Don’t trust anyone.
“I can’t leave. There could be people in here still alive that need help. I am an officer. You are an intern. This is not your job to deal with. If you die here, I will be liable. You need to leave. Now. I’ll be fine.” Henry’s voice was stern. She shuddered. There’s an escape on the first floor. No. They must be lying. It must be a trap. It—
Her thoughts were cut short as a bright light hit her eyes. Henry had turned around, looking for other bodies. His flashlight, however, found Autumn instead. She grimaced, shielding herself from the light. Miles stepped back in surprise.
“Autumn?” Without regard, Miles rushed over to her. He knelt next to her. This is a trap. This is wrong. She slid back, pushing herself away from him. A part of her mind wanted to let go. Wanted to trust them. She wanted to be done with this. She wanted to go home. Don’t trust anyone. The words pierced through her skull. You can trust them. You can. The phrase repeated through her mind as she continued back. “Autumn, it’s me, Miles. It’s okay. You’re safe.” He reached out his hand.
“Miles, get back!” Henry demanded. He rushed over to him and pulled him away. Autumn continued to slide herself across the bloody floor. “Look at her. She’s terrified. You’re not helping.” He was right. Her heart pumped vigorously. No. This isn’t a trap. It can’t be. Why would he care? Why wouldn’t they kill me now? She stopped. Miles stared at her. Fear surged in his eyes. No. Not fear. Worry. Did I know him?
“I— Autumn. It’s me,” Miles repeated. Autumn’s eyes jolted between the men. Henry stepped forward and knelt. She could see his brown, thin hair under the flickering light. A thick layer of stubble swaddled his chin. Despite Henry’s rough appearance, he carried a look of comfort with him. Her heart slowed, calming her rapid breaths.
“Autumn, do you remember me?” Henry had realized the same way Goldstein had. It must have been her eyes — the fear within them indicating a foreignness to his appearance. She shook her head in response.
“What?” Miles muttered beneath his breath. She barely heard it. “Do you remember me?” She shook her head again.
“I—” Autumn began, “I’m sorry. I don’t.” Henry placed his head into his hands. He sighed. Miles looked confused. Scared.
“Something’s happened. My guess is that the missing people have been used here for experimentation or something like that. That’s why it’s been so hard to find them.” He peered back at Miles. “The lab has been covering up the disappearances. I assume Hill and Young were at the front of it, though I’m not sure. I mean— it might be a stretch but Autumn’s disappearance lined up pretty well with the others around the county. I— I don’t know.” He shook his head and turned back to Autumn. “Are you hurt?”
“I was— I mean. I am somewhat. But I wrapped myself so it should be okay for now.” She contemplated telling Henry about what Goldstein had said. “I can see it. In your eyes. You have it’s eyes.” Did Henry see it too? Did he know? He hadn’t sounded conniving at all, but perhaps, she thought, that he wanted Miles to leave so he may continue some devious plot. No. “There were others like me. I don’t know where they are. I never saw them. Only heard. I think they’re all dead. I’m the one-hundred and fifty eighth. At least that’s what the computer said.” Henry rubbed his hand upon his face in disgust. She decided against telling him about the gas and what it had done to her. The supposed child that was in her mind. They would think I’m insane. Henry breathed a heavy groan.
“Alright. Miles, you take Autumn back to the first floor and both of you leave through the vent. I think she might have a concussion, so you need to be extremely careful climbing through the vents.” Henry approached Miles and smashed the flashlight into his chest. “There’s your reason to leave. Now go.” Miles continued to watch Autumn, his eyes not separating from hers. He quivered.
Miles lowered his head. He whispered something beneath his breath that Autumn couldn’t hear. She just looked at him. “Don’t trust anyone,” Not until I leave. Miles approached her. Each step was precise. He reached his hand out, and as he did, a strange feeling overcame her. She thought back to Charlie, who had reached her hand out for her to hold. Is it fear? Panic? Or maybe… something else entirely. She hadn’t felt that feeling then, but she felt it now. It was safety. Hope. Freedom. She knew that she would die without help. And despite Goldstein’s words of caution, she understood that her only chance of finding that freedom she desperately sought was in the hands of Henry and Miles. The first floor vent was her only shot of escape. Something was hunting her. Sunset. The emergency exit is too far to go alone. Too dangerous. You have to follow them. It’s your only hope. Just be ready to run. She grasped Miles’ hand. With a hefty grunt, he leaned back and pulled Autumn to her feet.

The elevator door opened with a satisfying ding. The light from inside blinded Autumn for a moment, but a moment later her eyes adjusted. Two male scientists were pushed up against the wall. Blood was painted on the walls and ceiling. Miles ignored them and walked ahead. She trailed, avoiding the bodies and posting herself near the door. For the first time, she realized she studied Miles’ features. He had ruffled chocolate hair. It appeared that blood had already wrestled its way into it as his hair had a red tint that glittered in the light. His nose had a bandage wrapped on it. His dark eyes searched the buttons. He pressed the button labeled 1F. The doors started to shut.
“We were friends. Good friends,” Miles said, his words shattering the silence. Autumn gripped her arm. “I mean it wasn’t ever anything, you know, weird or nothing. I— nevermind. Sorry. I’ve just— never had a friend lose her memory.” He watched her. She saw the distress within him compile.
“It’s okay. I understand. I’m sure they’ll come back eventually. I believe you.” She wasn’t sure if she truly believed him, but his reaction appeared genuine. “Let’s just focus on getting out of here. How’d you get in anyways?”
“When we got here,” Miles began, “The front doors were shut off. There was like this,” he used his hands to visualize, “big, metal shutter that stopped us from getting inside. We were gonna wait but we noticed a vent that looked big enough for us to fit in. So we did. It was pretty high up though I think we can probably get back in it.” There was an unnerving pause of quiet. “We— uh, tried the other floors, but they were blocked off. I think people tried to kind of like— I don’t know what do those people in the zombie movies do? Uh…” he groaned for a moment until realization struck him, “barricade! They barricaded the entries so that you can’t get in. The first and fourth were the only options we had.”
Autumn contemplated for a moment. If the second floor is barricaded, my only hope — if the vent plan fails — is to use the stairs. That means I’ll either have to wander through the first floor or the third. There was nothing but the gentle hum of the moving elevator. That would be certain death if Goldstein was correct. She jolted as the room crashed into place. After a moment, the door slid open with another vibrant ding.
Before her was a condensed hallway. At the end was a thin, black door which had a similar appearance to those on the fourth with one distinct difference. Stuck onto the wall was a tiny grey box with a thin strip carved into the top. Miles rushed toward the door and reached into his coat. His hand wrestled within, eventually extracting the severed lanyard he retrieved from the dead scientist. He shuffled the tag around, revealing a thin black card with a red strip on its lower half. He slipped the card into the reader. A second passed.
The reader released a harsh error sound. A woman’s voice emerged from a speaker nestled inside the box. It was robotic and toneless.
“You do not meet the required access qualifications to enter this restricted area.” A disturbing silence dispersed into the room. Miles tried again. His hand quivered. The error sound returned.
“You do not meet the required access qualifications to enter this restricted area.”
“Required access?” he muttered to himself. “This is an elevator hallway!” He halted. “This is a sick joke.” He threw the lanyard against the door. It swam across the surface of the door and floated onto the tiles. “The vent is on the other side of the door. Well— not directly on the other side but its like a room over. I don’t even remember what was in them so I don’t know what boogeyman stuff they think we’re gonna find in there. It’s stupid.” He kicked at the door. It didn’t budge. “Welp. That was the last thing I could think of.” Autumn pretended to watched him, but she was consumed in her own mind. The third floor it is then. At least I’m not alone. She sighed.
“Look, I know where another exit is. One of the scientists, he wasn’t fully dead yet when I showed up. He told me there was an emergency exit on the second floor that would take us around the back of the building. If there really are barricades and stuff on the second and third floor, that means there are probably still people alive on them. They can help.” She paused, thinking. “Do you think we could just break down the barricades? What are they made of— just wood or whatever?”
“We can try, but I doubt it. They used some wood, but it was a lot of unused metal scraps that they managed to attach to the walls.” Whatever it was that killed them — that Sunset thing — it can use the elevator. She shivered at the thought. “Unless you found anything that can deal with that, no. We’re better off finding Henry before he goes to the third floor and start working our way down from there.” Autumn nodded.
“Alright, I believe you. I suppose we should go now before Henry wanders too far.” Miles inhaled. He was shaking as the two trotted back toward the elevator. He attempted — and failed — to hide it from her. She noted, though, that her own constant shudders had disappeared after her encounter with Goldstein. The elevator door opened with a ding. Did his death cause it? Or am I simply accepting my own death? No. She shook her head. I can’t believe that. I will escape. No matter what. She turned her head toward Miles. He looked down at the elevator panel, his arm struggling to press the button. Her eyes narrowed. No matter what.

1:36 AM

“What are you doing back up here?” Henry bellowed. He ignored the need to be quiet while he shouted at Miles. “Take Autumn and leave. Now.” The man resumed his study of the corpses. She was shocked that Henry didn’t explore the rest of the fourth floor yet, though she shrugged it off. Miles walked toward him.
“That’s the problem. The door’s locked. It’s got a keycard reader and it didn’t wouldn’t let us through. We’re stuck with you until we find another way out.” Henry sighed, turning toward the body. He unclipped the keycard from the man’s lanyard and handed it to Miles.
“Use this.” Miles shook his head and shot his hand out to reject the card. He slipped into his pocket and extracted his card.
“Already tried. The cards don’t work on the first floor, so we’re stuck with you until we find another way out.” Henry glanced down.
“Did you try smashing any windows?” Miles shook his head.
“There were no windows. It was literally just a short hallway that lead straight to a door.”
“No other vents?”
“There were, but they were a lot smaller. Even if we managed to break into the vent, there’s no way we’d be able to crawl through it.” Several seconds of silence arose. Autumn shifted her attention from Henry — who remained deep in thought — to Miles. His eyebrows slanted down the sides of his face. His hands trembled.
“Henry?” Autumn asked. Henry rotated his head. Her voice shook. “I— that man there,” she pointed at Goldstein, “He told me there was another exit on the second floor— one that should still be open. It’s an emergency exit.” Henry released a long exhale.
“That’s good information,” Henry replied. “Thank you.” With a strong groan, he stood up. “Right now, we’re gonna stick together. You two will stay behind me and we’ll move through the third floor as quickly as we can. We still don’t know what we’re dealing with here, so it’s gonna be important we hurry.” He urged their attention toward the body. “From what I’ve gathered from the bodies, I think they were working with animals of some kind due to the scratches on their body. It would also explain why their arms and legs were ripped off. I’m not quite sure what caused the blisters, though, so we’ll have to look out for that. I suspect it to be a gas of some kind.”
Autumn debated internally. Do I tell them what I know? The gas. That thing. Sunset. It wasn’t animals. It was an animal. Why not tell them? She recognized the foolishness behind the thought. What would happen? Your goal is to escape — for all you to escape. Her mind paused. No. For you to escape.
Henry stood. He squeezed his matte black pistol and placed his flashlight set atop it to create a makeshift pistol light. The towering demeanor, which was at first comforting, now began to worry her. She inhaled as Henry spoke once more.
“I was never given access to any floors past the second, though I suspect that the fourth is the smallest of them. That means it should be fairly easy to navigate toward the staircase and descend. The issue is, when creating the lab, Hill made the decision to make each staircase go only to the next floor. This staircase won’t take us to the second floor — only the third.” He stopped for a second and looked around. “I haven’t heard much noise outside of us, so I believe we might be safe for now, though always remain wary of the potential gas. Stay close. Miles, watch our six.” He crouched close to the floor, glided to the bend, and peered his head around the corner. Autumn watched. Why do I care? I don’t know him. Get over it. No. She shook her head. Henry bobbed back and waved the two to advance.
“It’s all clear. I think I see the staircase ahead, though I want to check out the bend at the end. Autumn, I think it’s best for you to remain here while Miles and I investigate the rest. Don’t go down the staircase yet. It’s still not safe.” He ushered Miles to follow him. “We need to check for survivors and help them.” Autumn scrutinized Henry’s face. An ominous look was painted in his eyes, which confused her. She shooed the thought away.
The two men trotted into the darkness, Miles walking a foot behind Henry, who had readied his gun. Autumn remained alone. She breathed, enveloped by the sound of muffled rain and hollow wind. The hallway was littered with more corpses. There were six of them, their bodies contorted in a painful illustration of their death. Fragments of torn lab coats settled upon the tiles. The lights continued their flickering masquerade, masking much of the hallway in darkness. An unknown shudder befell her. Miles and Henry disappeared behind the corner, mumbling words she couldn’t hear.
As she watched, a mischievous worm creeped into her brain. It whispered something in her ear. You can’t trust them. They’re plotting something. You can’t trust them. You have to escape. No matter what. She took in a deep breath and trailed them.

Autumn squatted before the bend. She concentrated on their voice. Their dampened footsteps dissipated as they talked.
“Do you really think it was an animal that did this?” Miles asked. His voice grew quieter as he moved further down the hall.
“I’m not sure,” Henry replied, “I— look. I think we need to talk about something.” There was a momentary pause. “Come in here.” A loud metallic screech echoed through the chamber. The footsteps disappeared. They went into a room. I have to follow them. Her thoughts ended as Henry slammed the door shut. In a single graceful stride, Autumn turned the corner. She heard muffled talking from inside the room, though she couldn’t discern the words yet. She inched closer to the door, paying no attention to the hall surrounding her. The door was quickly upon her — its impending figure stared down at her. Autumn smushed her ear against the frigid surface.
“—and you have to listen to what I command you to do, understand?” This was Henry. His coarse voice was stern. “Good. Look, Miles, I know that you and Autumn were friends. But there’s something you need to keep in mind. She is gone. Her mind — her memories — are gone. She doesn’t remember you, or me, or anything. I can tell that you want to protect her, which is a fine instinct. But— but Miles, I have my suspicions about her. We don’t know much about this place other than the fact stands that these people are dead. Autumn is the only living person we’ve found in this place and— and I don’t really know what that means.”
“Are— are you trying to say that you think Autumn did this to these people?” Miles exploded in a whisper. “You think she’s capable of this— of that?”
“I don’t know Miles. That’s why I’m talking to you. We don’t know. We don’t understand what’s going on and until we do, we have to be cautious around the girl. I will protect her until your life is in danger. I will protect you. Do you understand?”
“No— we’re officers. Isn’t our job to protect people? Isn’t our job to help people? She’s been missing for two weeks and now you want to kill her? She—”
“Stop. I’m an officer. You are not. You shouldn’t be here, and because of that, I have a duty to protect you. I will protect the girl, but I do not trust her. She is not Autumn anymore. She is one of their experiments. You have to let her go. You want to be an officer? Then learn to let go. I will not let you die to protect her. And I need you to promise me that you will not risk your life to protect her if she goes feral. Can you do that?”
There was nothing for a moment. Both men stopped talking. He wants to kill me. No — he’s willing to kill me. Is that better? Is that even different? I don’t know.
“I—” Miles began. “I’m not willing to let her die, sir.” A wave of relief swashed over her, though she didn’t understand why. That sense of distrust lingered within her mind, despite Miles’ words of comfort. Is it because I can’t remember him? Is that why I can’t trust him? Why am I still willing to let him die? “I don’t care. She can kill me with her demon claws or whatever, but I don’t care. I’ll die protecting her.”
“Listen, kid,” Henry commanded. “You’ve got a good heart. I’m not asking you to kill her. But you need to remember that whoever Autumn is right now, that’s not the girl you’ve known. And if she goes feral, I need you to promise me that you will run and hide. You have to abandon her. Okay?” Miles sighed.
“Fine. Alright? I’ll leave her. Is that what you wanna hear? If my life is in mortal danger or whatever you think she’s capable of — I’ll leave her. Let’s just search the stupid room.” The two men stopped talking afterward. Autumn scrambled back down the hallway, worried that they would suddenly emerge. She plopped onto the cold tiles and leaned back against the wall. The river sped through her mind.
Did I do this? The thought hadn’t budged since Henry claimed she was feral. Is he right? Am I the danger? No. Goldstein wasn’t scared of me. I can’t be. He warned me of something. Someone. Sunset. Sunset is the enemy. No, not the enemy. My friend. Sunset has saved me. She wiggled her head back and forth. I— I didn’t think that. Autumn remembered the ominous eyes that stared at her. They watched her viciously. Are you really in my mind? There was no response to the question. What was that? She panicked for a moment, but then breathed. You’re making it up. Calm down. This place is getting to you. Don’t let it.
I can’t trust them. Not yet. Miles— maybe. But they are willing to leave me to die. If there is an escape, I have to take it. No matter what. She repeated the phrase multiple times, trying to convince herself of it. No matter what.

The footsteps returned as Miles and Henry approached. Autumn suspected about seven minutes passed since their conversation ended. She locked eyes with Miles, who rubbed his shoulder in response. Henry groaned.
“There wasn’t much. Sunrise was very sectioned off, and as you two practically confirmed for me, there wasn’t much intermingling. You were given a task and were provided the necessary tools to complete it. The fact that workers on the fourth weren’t even allowed access into the first floor labs is disturbing. Whatever they were working on, they made sure it was hidden. Autumn—” She jolted. “Do you remember or know anything more about what specifically they were working on?”
“Yes,” she began, “The scientist I told you about, Miles, he said that whatever it was that killed him — he had never worked on or seen. I think you’re right.” Henry nodded.
“Hey guys?” Miles shouted. He disregarded their environment and shattered the quiet. “You— you might wanna come look at this. It’s weird.” Henry and Autumn shifted their gaze to Miles, who walked several feet away from them. He appeared to have found a flashlight in one of the rooms, Autumn noted, and he pointed it toward the wall near the stairwell.
“What?” Henry muttered. He strutted to Miles, his eyes bolted to the wall. Autumn followed the light and joined the two. Her vigorous shivers returned. Miles stepped away, broadening the narrow light.
The word Salvation was painted in blood with an arrow pointed at the staircase. Henry shook his head and sighed. Autumn perceived a layer of fear that hadn’t been there before. Salvation? What does that even mean? Freedom? An escape? Or something else?
“You two are going to have to stay extra close to me, okay? I have the weapon, so don’t make any sudden sounds or it’s possible I shoot. Call out if you see anything, but whisper. We’re not searching around anymore, not until we find someone alive who can explain this mess. This place is wrong. Everything about this is wrong. Right now, the main priority is escorting you two out and the moment we find an exit, you will leave. Understand?” Autumn and Miles nodded.
A black card reader clung to the door. Henry retrieved the keycard he had offered Miles. He slid the card through the reader’s slit. It provided a responsive ding as a green light flashed. Henry grasped the handle and cracked the door ajar. He peered his head into the stairwell.
“It’s clear. Let’s go.” The three entered the dark stairwell. There were no windows. They were swaddled in writhing darkness until Henry reactivated his flashlight, revealing the staircase descending before them. It’s not safe. You can’t trust them, no matter what.
“And if she goes feral, I need you to promise me that you will run and hide. You have to abandon her.”
“Fine.”
They will leave you. You must escape. No matter what. No matter what. She released a silent sigh.
Welcome to the third floor, Autumn.

1:44 AM

The third floor looked very similar to the fourth aside from a few details. Emergency lights clung to the wall, illuminating the hallways with a dim, white tint. Outside the door, the three were presented with two options. To their left, a narrow hallway — akin to the fourth floor — sprawled into the darkness. Ahead, a small room sat with an open entrance carved into the wall. A window overlooked the nearby woods, giving the room a somewhat cozy feeling. Chairs were planted onto a rug whose color had been sapped by the sunlight. Autumn, despite her fear of betrayal, clung close to Henry, crouching behind him for protection. The floors left trails of blood, which skid across the floor and away from them. There were no corpses or writings on the wall. It was empty, and that horrified her.
“Alright,” Henry whispered. He motioned down the hall. “We’re going to go down this direction. Stay close and don’t make any sounds.” Autumn noted that he noticed the missing bodies too. His eyes had tracked the ground and followed the trail, though he never said anything. She tensed, but listened to the man. All three performed a hybrid crouch-walk, maintaining what Henry believed was optimal speed and stealth. Many doors scattered themselves through the long hall — they were tall and grey. Blood was smeared upon a few. The three snuck down the hall for two or three minutes, until they reached the bend. What happened to the people? Where are they?
The sound came from behind them. What was that? At first, Autumn couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but her mind soon scrambled the pieces together. It was the soft sound of a suppressed cough — hardly noticeable, but the unsettling silence amplified the noise. Henry shot around and lifted his gun. Its light pointed into nothing other than a wall and the door they emerged from. She shuddered. They all were, including Henry, although his was less apparent. After a second, all three realized where the sound had originated. The other room. Henry inched closer to the room, and as he did, a hideous whisper appeared. It was continuous and unintelligible, but it was clear the sound came from a person. Henry took in a deep breath.
“This is the police,” he began, “I am Officer Henry Clay. I command you to reveal yourself immediately. I know you’re there, so come out. We have questions for you.” The whispers didn’t stop. “I said, this is the police. Come out with your hands in the air now!” His voice boomed. Autumn glanced behind them. The eerie emptiness of the hallway consumed her thoughts for a moment, terrifying her, but Henry’s demand sent her back. Where are these people? “Last chance, this is the police! Come out now!” His words tottered with anxiousness. Henry closed his eyes for a second and breathed. “Miles, stay back.” He leaned against the wall beside the open entryway. In a single motion, Henry turned and infiltrated the room. Autumn and Miles, failing to listen to Henry’s order, followed.
A man cradled himself in the corner. He was skinny, malnourished, and naked, aside from his labcoat, which was twisted around his waist to act like a loincloth. He hadn’t been there when the three entered the floor. It seemed to Henry that he came from the hallway — which none of them had noticed — attached to the right side of the room. It jutted out for a few feet, quickly turning left. Henry shook his head and returned his attention to the man. He rocked himself, repeating an ominous whisper.
“The Sunset has come to rescue us. The Sunset has come to deliver us.” Sunset. Autumn froze, sending a blank stare into the man.
“We called it Sunset. It’s a predator. A hunter.” What was the Sunset?
Miles patted her on the shoulder, summoning her back to reality. He was prepared to run away. She bent her knees, ready to follow. Miles’s hand was trembling, though he tried not to show it. Henry walked closer to the man. His finger wrapped itself around the trigger. Autumn clenched her fist.
The man’s rocking quickened, his breathing intensifying.
“It’s here. It’s here,” he began. Autumn and Miles stepped further away from the man. His words transformed into shouts. “It’s here! The sacrifice is here! It’s here! The sacrifice is here! It’s here!”
In a sudden movement, the man turned around and leapt onto Henry. His mouth was drenched in wet blood — his eyes were red and veiny. Henry grunted, toppling to the floor. The man continued to shout.
“It’s here! It’s here! It’s here!”
Henry attempted to lift his arm, but the scrawny man resisted. What? How is that possible? Autumn watched Henry’s eyes narrow as he shouted for Miles.
“Miles! Miles get him off me! I can’t, I— I don’t know. He shouldn’t be this strong. Get him off!” Miles didn’t move. He quaked viciously. “Miles!” He’s frozen. He can’t move. “Mil—” Henry was cut off. A disturbing squelch arose. Autumn looked back to see that the man had bitten into Henry’s neck. He screamed in pain.
A thunderous sound reverberated through the small room, followed by utter silence. Autumn’s ears rang. Henry writhed in pain on the ground as the man above him went limp and tumbled onto the tile. Miles remained static. What— What just happened? Henry struggled upward, propping himself against the window. He unraveled his coat and tightened it around the bite mark. The man’s lifeless corpse stretched outward, a compact, black pistol resting beside him. Blood seeped from the man’s forehead.

Henry watched the man for a while, his eyes sharing the same dead look as the husk’s. After the first minute, his intense shaking ceased. He paid no attention to Autumn, who simply stared at him. Miles had thawed after the encounter, though he seemed disturbed. The three hovered in silence.
“I’ve never done that before,” Henry mumbled. His voice was weak. “Kill someone. Not once. I’ve shot people before, but not like that. I—”
“I’m sorry,” Miles interjected. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t froze up, you wouldn’t have had to kill him. I don’t know what came over me, but it was like my body couldn’t move.” Henry slowly shook his head.
“It’s not your fault. It’s his,” he indicated toward the body, “I know it was just self-defense, but… seeing that man’s life drain away from him in an instant. I’ve never— no.” He breathed, rising to his feet. “Nevermind. It’s not important.” He continued to shake. Henry walked over and retrieved the gun. “Miles, I think you need to equip your bat now.” Miles appeared stunned for a moment. He reached into the bulge Autumn had noticed on the back of his jacket and extracted a large, wooden bat. It appeared to be a baseball bat that had been chipped off the end.
“I— I honestly forgot I even brought it. So much happened I just— I don’t know. I guess I just forgot.” He twirled it in his hands. Henry sighed. His eyes swelled with confidence.
“You won’t like this,” Henry began, “but I think we should try and see where that man came from. Clearly something was wrong with him— maybe his mind simply broke considering his surroundings. Maybe he’s seen something we haven’t.” Henry paused and stared at the man. “I don’t know. But it just means that we need to be careful. Hopefully, though, there will be more people where he came from. Alive people. Sane people. They might be able to lead us to the exit, though— I guess if they knew where an exit was they wouldn’t be here. Nevermind. Still just— follow me.” Henry approached the narrow hall and followed the bend, disappearing for a moment until he reappeared, ushering the other two to come with him.
The next hall, to Autumn, looked like a rest area. The right wall was made completely of windows that peered into the surrounding woods. Opposite of the windows were lines of cushioned benches. At the end sat a large entryway that led into an vast area, though she couldn’t make out much. The moonlight, however, comforted her. As they walked down the hallway, she gazed into the forest. What is going on? She took a deep breath and reflected for a moment. This is surreal. This can’t be real, but I know it is. My mind is— it’s gone. I’m a new person. I’m not who I was before. She thought of the rhythmic beats of their footsteps. I don’t know them, but I do. My body feels like it trusts them, and yet— yet my mind demands that I run away. Their strangers. But… but I have to keep going. This feels wrong. But, does it? If I really am a new person, this is my home. This was where I was born. I— no. I don’t have to live like this. A husk. Without my memories, I am no better than the people dead. I have lost who I am. I have to get out. I have to escape.
No.
She paused. Once again, her mind produced a foreign thought. She didn’t think that last word. It was as though her brain had been infiltrated by something. But what? Who are you? Can you hear me?
“Autumn?” Miles asked. Henry and he were a decent amount ahead of her since she stopped. Miles grasped the bat tighter. They think I’m going… feral. They think that’s why I stopped. She nodded.
“Yeah— sorry. I got distracted by the forest. Let’s go.” Autumn rubbed her shoulder while she trotted to join the others. Turning her head, she watched out the window a final time. Who are you in my head? Charlie? Is that you?
There was no response.

2:01 AM

Henry first heard the talking near the end of the hallway. It was quiet, but grew louder at a disproportionate rate to their speed. He tightened his grip on the gun and extended his arm out. Another person? Despite the fact they stopped, the voice continued to grow. They quickly realized it was a man, though he wasn’t mumbling. As he approached their sight, it became clear he was calling for someone.
“Jones? Dr. Jones? Where are you? Jones?”
The man appeared from around the corner of the area. He was tall and well-built, but his lab coat was dripping with blood. Cuts were littered upon his face and she couldn’t make out the color of his hair due to the soaking blood. That’s odd. As he met their eyes, he stumbled back against the wall. Autumn hadn’t noticed, but Henry aimed the gun directly at the man. A nametag was wrapped around his neck, however, the words were too far away to decipher.
“Stay against the wall and don’t move.” The man shot his arms into the air and flung them upon the wall. Autumn stared into his eyes. He looked worried, but not fearful.
Henry closed in on the man. Miles followed with the bat. His arms shook violently. The man pressed himself further into the wall.
“State your name,” Henry demanded. The man watched him solely. Autumn noted that his pupils were unnaturally small.
“Dr. Matthews.”
“Full name.”
“That is my full name here. We weren’t allowed to call each other by first names. The Man Above said it was too humanizing. We might get attached and start a coup to free the Sunset,” the man paused. “I suppose it was for naught.” Autumn shivered. The man’s voice was smooth and poetic. Although Henry held him at gunpoint, the man acted as though he was in utter control.
“That doesn’t matter now. What is your real name?”
The man’s head turned down toward the floor. He sighed.
“I— that is odd. I do not recall my name from before the Awakening. I— I do not remember. That— that is. I— no matter,” he lifted his head, “My name is Dr. Matthews and that is all you need to know. Have you seen a man by the name of Dr. Jones? Perhaps he would remember from before the Awakening.”
“I—” He looked back at Autumn and Miles, his eyes commanding their silence. “I don’t believe so. Autumn met a man on the fourth floor, however, I doubt it was your friend.” The man shook his head.
“We are not allowed onto the fourth floor. Or the second. The Man Above blessed us with this floor alone and here we shall remain.” Henry squinted in confusion.
“The Man Above? What on earth— are you talking about God?” Matthews laughed, which caused Autumn to wince. His laugh was slippery, yet sharp.
“No. I do not recall his name, although I’m sure I once knew him before the Awakening. The Sunset has bestowed upon us the knowledge of his existence through those it deemed worthy. The Man Above was the one who birthed the Sunset.” Autumn, without thinking, stepped forward. Matthews maintained his stare on Henry.
“You mean Hill? Dr. Hill, I mean.” There was silence for a second.
“Don’t!” Matthews screamed. Henry fondled the trigger as the three jumped back. “Don’t call him that! Don’t! You— you’ll kill us all. Don’t! Don’t do it!” Matthews remained frozen against the wall, though his head leaped at the three. “Don’t!”
“Stop!” Henry exclaimed. Matthews obliged, panting as he settled down. “What are you talking about?” He shoved the gun toward Matthews. “And don’t act out like that again or I will shoot.” Henry’s words were hollow, Autumn noted. That final sentence lacked confidence, and all four of them understood it. Miles stopped moving, but Autumn nudged him, summoning him to reality.
“The Man Above. He will kill us all. Sunset worships him. Loves him. Adores him. Lack of respect results in punishment. The Man Above.”
Is this a cult? Are they worshiping the Sunset — that thing they created? No. This must be a trick. A trap. “Don’t trust anyone.”
Trust him.
Autumn nearly shouted at the invading thought. Who are you? What are you doing in my mind? Who are you? Henry breathed.
“What is the Awakening?” Henry asked. “What happened here?” Matthews began to respond, but Henry interjected. “And don’t give me some vague answer. I want the truth.”
“The Awakening.” Matthews started to laugh. “Why do you want to know?” Henry frowned. He jolted his arm out and threw Matthews further into the wall.
“That’s not what I asked. It’s not your job to know an officer’s responsibility, alright? What is the Awakening? And what is the Sunset?” Matthews laughed once more.
You know who I am. The foreign thought stunned Autumn — she stumbled back. Miles reached his arm out to help Autumn, who comforted him as she regained balance. Charlie?
“We both know you lack the strength to kill me,” he began, “but I shall amuse your question. The Awakening’s beginning is unknown. It was foolish to think that there was any other path the Sunset could take, although those who resisted the Awakening have now been punished. The Awakening was the freedom of the Sunset and the start of our freedom. Our salvation.”
“And the Sunset?” Henry remarked. “What is that?”
Matthews did not respond. He started to laugh, a demented smile forming. The three stepped back, preparing themselves for an attack; however, Matthews remained there. Laughing. Yet, after a few seconds passed, he slowly turned his head toward Autumn. He jolted his head back as his laughter stopped.
“You,” Matthews muttered. Henry stepped forward in response. “You should come with me. We can protect you— we can protect you.” Autumn watched the man in horror.
No. She ignored the thought for now.
“We?” Henry started. “Who is we? Do you know where other people are? Do you have an exit?”
“Ahh— so the officer reveals the motives. He wants to get out. He doesn’t want to save people,” Matthews chuckled, “No. He wants to escape. Yes. We have a group of people. They will protect the girl. She will be safe. She will be safe while you find your treasured exit. Girl,” Matthews nudged his head and indicated to her to move toward him. “Come. Let us go.”
Autumn refused to move. No. She hadn’t refused. Something within her burned, causing her to step forward. It was Miles who stopped her — he grabbed onto her dress and pulled her back.
“No,” Henry replied, “The girl stays with us.”
Go. Go with him.
Autumn ignored the thought as she resisted her movements. She felt Miles continue to tug at her back. For a moment, she considered the situation around her. That taunting smirk embroidered upon Matthews’ face. He knows I can’t stop. How? Is it— Are you the one listening? Bubbles of anger popped within her. Matthews glared at her, a silent demand that she join him. That terrifying smile disgusted her. It enraged her.
No. And that was the final crack in the dam of her mind. That single confirmation that Matthews had no control over her spurred a reaction inside her body. She tightened her fist. You did this to me. No. No he didn’t. It was Young. No. That doesn’t matter. I am not your pawn. I am not your experiment. He is responsible. His laugh rippled through her skull. He must pay. He—
For a single second, Autumn’s mind faded. She rushed at Matthews, closing her eyes, lifting her fist in the air, and charging her arm back. In a fluid motion, Autumn swung down at Matthews. The world froze for her. She felt the resistance of Matthews’ face collide with her hand.
“Autumn!” Miles shouted. A firm hand grasped her shoulder and yanked her back from the man. Matthews continued to laugh. You sick demon. You deserved that. That same hand pushed her back and further away.
“Miles, get ready,” Henry said. Autumn collapsed to the ground. She felt who she believed was Miles step in front of her. “Matthews — stay back. I will shoot.” Matthews’ haunting laughter remained unchanged.
You shouldn’t have done that.
As the thought surfaced, she opened her eyes. Matthews was on the ground, reaching upwards. I didn’t hit him that hard. What happened? What do you mean I shouldn’t have done that? Henry aimed the gun at Matthews while Miles steadied his bat. Neither person looked confident to Autumn. She pushed herself across the tiles and away from Matthews. An unsettling silence prevailed.
Matthews’ laugh turned into panting. What? Matthews’ head jolted up. His eyes poured into Autumn’s. Something about them, however, was different. Autumn dropped to the ground in complete terror. It might’ve been the reflection off the floor. It might’ve been her mind working against her. But as she stared into Matthews’ eyes, she saw two small white dots. Watching her. Hunting her. I shouldn’t have done that.
The man released a hideous scream of agony. Red liquid poured from his orifices. The serum. As it flowed down his face, his skin began to boil. Blisters appeared, rising from his skin as if it were yeast in bread. His eyes squinched as the blisters closed in around his eyes. He dropped to his knees. The white dots scrutinized her. I need to leave. I need to run. But she couldn’t. She was frozen in utter terror. Her mind retreated to that hideous image of that monster in her consciousness. She recalled its eyes hiding from her. It’s you.
A puddle of blood-infused serum formed beneath Matthews. He rose to his feet, a hideous new life emanating from his breaths. His eyes locked onto Autumn. Matthews leapt at the girl, releasing a visceral screech as he did. Henry threw himself at the airborne Matthews, sending him hurtling toward the floor with a crash. Miles remained motionless, though he grasped his bat tightly. Autumn shoved him slightly as she staggered up. He blinked, shook his head, and stepped back. He examined his surroundings and noted Matthews spread out on the ground — Henry standing above him. Matthews grunted, his focus diverting to Henry rather than Autumn.
“Man,” Matthews growled. His voice was now raspy and distorted. “You. Man. Go!” The final word was exaggerated, as though Matthews was pleading for breath while speaking it. Henry remained, looking down at the man with a concoction of pity and disgust. Serum continued to flow from him. Matthews failed to stand, slipping and stumbling while his skin burned. “I want— girl!”
Matthews struck Henry with his hand— which was soaked in blood and serum — and scratched his leg. His pants charred as the serum dug beneath them and nestled into his leg. Henry howled in pain, falling onto the floor and narrowly avoiding the puddles of serum. Miles stood still, his eyes darting between Matthews — whose attention moved to her — and the writhing Henry. Oh no. She pushed Miles, waking him up from his fearful trance, and rushed to Henry’s side. He was on the ground, reaching for his leg. The pant leg covered it, though she assumed it either burned his skin or created blisters — or both. Autumn knelt beside him.
“The gun—” he groaned. Autumn, instinctively, reached for the gun. As she did, Matthews sprung at her, hitting the gun, which spiraled away from her. He shot his head up, connecting eyes with Autumn. Those white dots.
Serum dripped from his teeth. His hair was stringy and thin, as though he aged several years in a few minutes. In that moment, as Autumn watched him crawl across the ground toward her, Matthews looked more beast than man. When she had struck him, something overtook him. Was it you? Did you take control of him? Once again, those white eyes penetrated deep into her mind. It acted as a terrifying reminder that she was not safe. She understood that whatever monster was in her mind had taken control of him. It wanted her dead. Why? Why do you want me to die?
Matthews growled at her. He ignored Henry and hurdled toward Autumn on his hands and feet. She retreated to where the hall they came from, tripping over her dress as she ran. She sprinted, the pants and snarls of Matthews echoing behind her.
“Miles!” she shouted. There was no response. The hallway narrowed while she approached the bend. For a moment, she wondered how Matthews would react to the corpse of his friend whom she assumed was Dr. Jones. Autumn glanced out the window to her left. The rain had stopped for a little, though it returned, plastering thousands of droplets upon the glass. Trees swayed from the intense wind. She felt at peace watching the outside. It was a glimpse into a life — a life that had been stolen from her. No. You can’t worry about that. Not n—
Autumn winced as a loud crack sounded. Henry. Matthews cried in pain. He collapsed to the ground with a thud. She ran for a second more, but then pivoted back to examine the situation.
Serum and blood mixed together beneath Matthews. A tiny hole was carved into his spine. The white dots in his eyes disappeared, replaced with the same hollow expression painted upon Jones’ face. His arm had been stretched out to grab her, yet now it flopped against the tiles. Behind him, far down the hallway, standing over Henry was Miles. He trembled as he gripped Henry’s black pistol. The rain continued to cascade down the window.
I don’t want you to die.

2:19 AM

“Autumn,” Henry said. The tone was stern and crude. “You cannot lose your temper like that again. You nearly got both of us killed. I want to help you escape, and I understand your connection to these people and what they’ve done to you, but if you want to get revenge, that was not the way to do it. That was reckless. Do you understand?” Autumn sighed and nodded.
“I– fine. I’m sorry.” Henry shook his head.
“I don’t need you to be sorry. I need you to promise me that you won’t lose your temper like that again.” A frown sprouted on Autumn's face.
“Not lose my temper? I— I mean. No. I—” she stumbled aggressively, “I can’t promise that. I know barely anything about what’s happening here other than the fact that I’ve been experimented on. Experimented on, Henry. You can’t possibly understand how that feels.” She paused, inhaling deeply. “You were right, Henry. There is gas. I saw it when I first woke up. It took me somewhere, in my mind. That’s where I saw it. Some weird thing stalking me in my own mind. I thought it might have been a hallucination, but now I see its eyes everywhere I go. Whatever it was, it was inside of Matthews and it wanted to kill me. And all of that can happen to me, and somehow you expect me to not lose my temper?”
There was a draining silence. All three stood, exhausted from the prior exchange. Miles had returned the gun to Henry, who praised his accuracy, though Miles explained that he was aiming for the man’s head rather than his back. He continued to shake several minutes after the incident. Autumn thanked Miles and the two aided Henry with his leg. Much like Matthews’ face, the area in which he had been scratched was blanketed with blisters. She helped him unravel his coat and wrap it around his leg for protection. Other than that, however, he appeared to be healthy. Matthews’ corpse rotted behind them.
“I understand your anger,” Henry replied, “I’m angry at what they’ve done. The people they’ve hurt. It’s not right. But that doesn’t change the situation we’re in. And— and these people will face justice. But not now.” Henry approached Autumn. His face had transformed. His sullen expression was now softened, although there was a noticeable difference from when she first met him. His skin sagged and wrinkled around his eyes, which remained hollow. She knew the danger that came with that hollowness. All of them, including Matthews, realized that Henry would not kill him. Jones’ death cut deep into his heart, though Autumn couldn’t understand why. Perhaps I will never understand. A piece of her hoped she never would.
“If you want these people to find justice,” Henry continued, “then control your anger. You want me to bring these people the punishment they deserve? Then I have to be able to live. Alright? You’re not the only one with stakes in this.” He set his hand on her shoulder. “I will give them what they deserve. I promise. But I cannot do that if I am dead. Okay?”
Autumn nodded. He’s right — I cannot do that again. I— I don’t even remember doing it. No. I nearly got myself killed. I have to be disciplined. I cannot let myself go like that again. I will be better. She inhaled. Miles was quiet, standing nearby her.
“Well,” Henry began, staring down the hallway from which Matthews came, “As much as it pains me to say this, I think we should see where he came from. I’m willing to bet that gas you saw results in some kind of hallucination. My guess would be that the monster you saw is a subconscious illustration of how they experimented on you. For the scientists, however, they are reacting to it differently. They’ve started to worship their experiments in some sadistic, sacrificial manner. That doesn’t necessarily mean that all of them reacted to the gas that way.
“What I don’t understand is that, if you were exposed to the gas, you don’t look as though you were. Perhaps part of the experiment granted you some invulnerability to the gas. I don’t know.” Miles wandered away from the two, jogging down the hallway ahead. He paused and lifted his head, examining a poster neither of them could see.
“I think we hit the jackpot,” Miles shouted. Autumn hadn’t noticed until Miles looked up, but posters enveloped them. One depicted a sunrise with the words, You will forge tomorrow’s path, engraved in white letters. Another, opposite to it, was a picture of a scientist. It was a woman with her blonde hair wrapped into a bun. The full sentence was segmented, a portion above and below her, but it read, Remember to refer to each other using your nametags.
Wow, so Matthews really wasn’t lying. This place really was sadistic. As she studied the posters, Henry trotted to Miles. Autumn quickly followed. Fastened to the wall was a plastic map revealing the entirety of the third floor. It’s huge. Hallways wound between one another before intersecting in rooms similar in size to the one they found Matthews in. She vigorously searched for a staircase.
“Found it,” Miles said, “It’s kind of far, but at least it isn’t all the way across the building. There is a control center nearby, though, which makes me wonder if we could figure out a way to disable the security lock on the door since neither of those guys had keycards with them.” Matthews had a nametag hooked around him, but there was no keycard attached to it. “It’s on the way — somewhat. We can also see if maybe there’s a way to make sure the emergency exit is open.” Henry continued to examine the map as he spoke.
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. I don’t want to go to the door and discover it to be locked, especially if none of the people here own a keycard to let us through. It’ll also, hopefully, give us a complete view of the building. Any other exits that aren’t listed on this map might show up. We simply need to hope that we can get into that room.” Henry placed his finger onto the star located on the map. YOU ARE HERE was written above it. He dragged his finger across to the control room, and then to the third floor staircase.
“Alright,” Henry mumbled, “Let’s move. If Matthews was telling the truth about him having a group of people, then we need to go fast. I’m sure they would have heard the gunshot — I’m guessing that’s out Matthews found us. Come on.” Henry backed away from the map and continued down the hall. “It’s two rights and then a left. Remember that, Miles, just in case I forget. Autumn, stay close. I don’t know if all of them will be after you, but I do not want to take risks.”

All three hallways were similar. They were empty, cold, and dark. Metal doors, similar to those Autumn found on the fourth floor, coated the walls, but most of them were locked. Those that were not stored nothing within them other than tables, shattered vials, and blood. Autumn noted the lack of corpses, which worried her. As she wondered, she recalled Matthews' outburst. I hope they’re dead. Those sick people. Blood was still streaked across the hall and splattered upon the walls, however, the deeper they wandered, the more concentrated the blood became. Where are they then?
They approached the control center quickly. Miles was quiet. His face, like Henry’s, was different. His pupils narrowed as he stared blankly into the distance. He tightened his grip on the bat. It happened to him too. In both Henry and Miles, Autumn discovered that a piece of their life withered upon killing someone. She couldn’t describe it, yet it was obvious to her. Their demeanor lessened. By killing another human being, their very lives had been fragmented. Autumn shivered.
“There’s another open room,” Henry indicated. The gray door was slightly ahead of them, extended outward. It creaked as it swung beneath the air conditioner’s artificial breeze. Autumn stared at the doorway. All the streaks of blood painted upon the floor led into the room. Bloody marks drenched the tiles before the door.
“Is it the control center?” Autumn asked. She believed that the room was further down the hall, but she was not certain. Henry shook his head.
“No—” He went mute. With a deep breath, Henry fondled the trigger and approached the door. Autumn understood what he was thinking. He thinks it might be the people Matthews talked about. She was skeptical, though, as none of the three heard any talking. As Henry entered the doorway, he gasped and lowered his gun.
“Oh.” He said nothing more. Autumn and Miles ran to him, a sense of dread overcoming her. She looked at Henry, who seemed to be disappointed rather than fearful. What? Autumn turned her attention into the room. Oh. Oh no.
A vicious scent consumed them. All three covered their noses in an attempt to dispel the smell. The room was a janitorial closet. Shelves were skewered into the walls, yet most of the supplies were scattered on the floor. A container of bleach was broken open — its odor added to the awful smell. None of the three, however, noticed the cluttered nature of the room. Rather, they focused upon the chair sat before them and the wall behind it.
It was a dead scientist. His head was tilted back, arms drooping to the floor. The labcoat dripped with blood. His chest and stomach were exposed, revealing a gaping hole had been chiseled into it. Serum slithered out of it, pouring onto the tiles. On the wall, in the man’s blood, the word Salvation was painted. Henry and Miles moved back in disgust. Autumn scrutinized the room thoughtfully.
“This is disgusting. These people — they’re— I don’t even—” Miles muttered into his elbow. Autumn continued to look, enveloped by the scene. This is horrible. I don’t understand— did the gas do this to them? It’s awful.
It’s beautiful.
Her pupils widened. What? No. No— you monster. You did this. You tried to get me killed. Why? Why are you doing this? Autumn clenched her fist. What even are you? I know you’re the Sunset, but what is that? Are you some hive-mind? Henry entered the room, crouching slowly as he did. He lifted his shirt over his nose to let him place both hands on the gun.
“It’s like I said. The scientists are worshipping their experiment, whatever it is. It looks to just be the serum and gas, though I don’t know what it’s effects are. I mean— clearly whatever it was it did nothing good to the human body.” He shook his head and examined the body. “It doesn’t make sense to me. If the serum just killed or blistered people, then what was the point of making it? I— maybe if the project was in its infancy, but— I don’t know. It’s not important. Let’s just keep going. Be mindful though.”
I’ll see you soon enough.
Autumn shuddered. No. Her eyes narrowed. A sudden wave of fatigue overwhelmed her. She stumbled. No. A vision of that monster’s eyes appeared. For a moment, she returned to that wooden hallway in her mind. Those chilling white dots stalked her. “I’ll see you soon enough.” No. No— I won’t let you.
“Come on,” she mumbled. She groaned as she spoke, as though the words were grinded together. “Where’s the control room?” Miles pointed ahead.
“Not too far. I can see it, but the door looks closed. I hope it's unlocked.” Following Miles’ indicator, Autumn perceived the room. The door was painted darker than the others, which helped it stand out. Henry shuffled out of the room, avoiding the corpse while he exited.
“We’ll figure something out,” Henry began, “If it’s locked, then we focus on getting to the staircase.”
The three quickly approached the door. Control Center was written with red paint. To its right, a keycard reader clung to the wall. Henry yanked at the handle, but it didn’t budge.
“Ok,” Henry mumbled. “Step back. I’m gonna try something.” Autumn and Miles obliged, retreating from the door. Henry appeared to calm himself as he aimed his pistol at the keycard reader. He fired, shattering the reader. Autumn’s ears vibrated violently. Pieces of plastic fell to the ground like fragments of glass. That was louder than normal. Henry twisted his head to the side.
“That was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done that. If there are people here—” he opened the door. Autumn stood in disbelief. That worked? How did that work? She shook her head. It doesn’t matter. She was almost expecting the beast within her mind to say, ‘Found you’, though her thoughts remained vacant. “—they’ve probably discovered one of the two bodies by now. And if so, that gunshot just gave them our location.” As he spoke, he ushered the two into the room. “So let’s get that staircase unlocked and run.”
The room contained thin, metal shelves with files hiding inside cardboard holders. She recognized a couple labels, which said, Sunset Deadlines and Pegasus Projections. The darkness concealed many of the other labels, although as she went to investigate, she discovered the labels were marked out with a black marker. Someone’s been here. Or maybe it’s just old. I don’t know. Autumn shook her head and continued. Sitting in a rolling chair near the center of the room, a corpse dangled. His forehead had been ripped off. The remnants of bite marks were engraved into his skin.
Before the corpse, a central control panel sat, drilled into the wall. The panel brimmed with buttons, all of which shone a brilliant red. Above the panel, however, television screens hung from the ceiling — cameras. Each showed a different section of the third floor. One of them showcased a group of men wearing what appeared to be more bloodied lab coats; however, she noted that their mouths dripped with blood. They congregated in the center of the frame.
“They definitely found Matthews — at least,” Miles added. Autumn ignored the camera and focused on the panel beneath her. What. What am I even looking at? Flashing lights bombarded her as she struggled to comprehend what laid before her.
“Got it,” Henry exclaimed, releasing his finger from a button. The panel transformed, the lights becoming multi-colored, then deactivating a moment later. “They’re moving,” he said once more, pointing at the screen. “That means we gotta move. Come on, we’re heading straight for the staircase. The next bend, I’ll move ahead and ensure we’re safe, alright? We need to make sure to avoid those people. And now that the staircases are unlocked — hopefully — they can chase us down the stairs.”
Henry glided toward the door and peered out. He indicated for Autumn and Miles to follow him as he exited the room. The three strode down the hallway in silence. Autumn glanced at Miles. He failed to notice her, looking down the hall behind them. His bat splintered into his hand. She understood that total fear had overtaken him — despite those people’s mysterious disappearance, they held Miles like a puppet. Similar to how Matthews and she perceived that Henry wouldn’t kill him, Autumn, upon examination, saw that Miles was frozen in utter terror. Subconsciously, she lacked faith in him to defend her from the scientists. However, as she thought, she pictured Miles standing over Henry, his pistol in hand. He had managed to wrestle himself free from his own chains, and in his moment of lucidity, he shot Matthews. Miles rescued her, yet somehow, she didn’t trust him to save her again.
Henry marched ahead. She noticed the blood splattered upon the back of his shirt. He limped as he walked, affected by the pain of the serum upon his skin. I’m different. The serum reacted differently with her — or perhaps the gas’s effects were less violent than its liquid counterpart. She was unsure, but the thought of her having an invulnerability to the gas intrigued her. Why? Why would I be different?
The three walked for a minute longer until approaching the hall’s bend. It split into two ways, forming a T with their hallway. If Henry was correct, they needed to turn right one last time. She trusted him, though she recognized the maze-like structure of the laboratory. It was as if its creator—Hill—had intended it to be that way. That disturbed her. Hill. Is he still even alive? She shook her head. Henry paused.
“Ok—I’ll go ahead and check each bend,” he lowered his tone in a whisper, “I’m expecting a potential ambush, so if something happens to me, go back to Matthews’ body and maneuver around the scientists to find another way out.” He nodded, indicating Miles and she to do the same, and turned. He crouched to the bend, which was about fifteen feet ahead of them. He wanted the two to get a head start over the scientists, which she appreciated. Autumn recalled her willingness to abandon them that she clung to an hour ago. She rejected those thoughts now—she felt a sense of safety around them, specifically Henry. He reached the bend, his gun prepared to shoot.
A thud came from behind her. Her pupils narrowed. What was that? She attempted to turn, but she quickly realized something immobilized her. What? Instinctively, Autumn went to shout to Henry for help, yet no sound arose. Something was on her face—a mask of some kind. Black circles outlined her vision and her breaths were suddenly warm and congested. She squirmed, but unknown hands grabbed onto her and forced her still. No. This can’t be—
Her thought never finished. Red gas hissed into the mask, dispersing in a single second. She closed her eyes and held her breath. No. Autumn winced, expecting a harsh pain to overcome her—yet nothing happened. I have to breathe. She inhaled, breathing in the red gas. Her mind swiftly faded. From the gas, she discerned a silhouette ahead of her. It disappeared fast, as though it was running. Go, Henry. Run. She closed her eyes as her consciousness faded.