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I slip out from behind the door, my footfalls muffled by my newly-fashioned socks. The man in front of me is five-ten, stocky, wearing a black sweater and a baseball cap. He’s still facing the double doors, giving me his broad back and the perfect target.
Leaping onto him, I wrap an arm around his neck. He lets out a choked gasp and drops his phone. A second later, he regains his composure and charges backward, slamming me into the wall.
Pain explodes across my spine, dulled by a surge of adrenaline. He grabs my arm, trying to tear off my grip, but I shift the scalpel and slash his neck. Warm blood sprays across my fingers, making me shiver. I drop to the floor, heart pounding, and scramble to my feet, narrowly dodging his wild punch.
He stumbles toward me like a wounded animal, clutching his throat, gurgling and choking on his blood.
“Finish him,” Xero snarls.
Determination powers my steps. I jog around him and position myself at his back. This time, I won’t fail. Using the strap of his baseball cap as a guideline, I drive the scalpel deep into the flesh beneath his cranium.
It sinks in with a wet sound that makes my stomach roil. He stumbles forward before dropping to the floor in spasms.
Xero wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Well done.”
My blood roars with triumph. I stand above the fallen man, breathing hard, waiting for his body to stop twitching and convulsing.
An alert sounds from further down the hallway, turning my attention back to his phone, which now lies face-down in an expanding puddle of blood.
I pick up the device. There’s an alert from a group chat, labeled ASYLUM SHOOT. Delta has divided the grounds and building into sections, assigning each crew member to search a specific area.
It looks like the man at my feet was given the ground floor, west wing and its surrounding courtyard.
What the hell do I do next? If they don’t hear from him, they won’t just know something has gone wrong, they’ll concentrate their efforts on my hiding place.
“They’ll know something’s wrong the moment he doesn’t return,” Xero mutters. “Wait for the first person to report and then write something similar. We’ll decide what to do next when Delta responds.”
I glance down at the corpse, wondering if I should bother to hide it under one of the gurneys.
“No point when there’s nothing to clean up the blood.”
Nodding, I walk around the expanding pool, making sure not to create bloody footprints, and return to my hiding spot.
My adrenaline is still high as I lean against the wall, breathing hard. I clutch the phone with trembling hands and stare at the group chat, waiting for the next update.
What the hell am I doing? I should use this chance to call the police.
“Don’t forget that Delta doesn’t technically exist, and you’re probably a person of interest in relation to at least four murders,” he says.
I gulp. JakeRake69, who I killed, Chappy, who was found hanging outside the room where I was staying, the first two men in the basement who formed the human caterpillar. Big Dick Johnson and the Well Hung Man took care of themselves.
“Then there’s your mother and your Uncle Clive,” Xero adds.
My chest aches at the reminder. I didn’t kill Mom. Dolly did, while dressed like me. Even if I pleaded insanity again, I might still end up in an institution, just like she’d always threatened. Right. And now this guy, who I stabbed even when he was down.
“With your track record, you’ll probably get the electric chair.”
I swallow hard. A third option would be to use the arrival of the police as a distraction and slip away unnoticed. That would make me a fugitive, but it’s better than falling into the hands of murderous predators.
Xero stays silent. He knows I’m screwed. My choices are to risk dying with dignity or remaining here to guarantee a painful and humiliating death.
My fingers tremble as I call 911. I don’t dare speak in case my voice carries across the hospital, but I leave the line open.
“911,” the dispatcher says. “What’s your emergency?
I breathe hard into the receiver, remaining silent. Blood pounds through my veins, and my heart beats so hard that I feel sick.
“Caller, can you speak? What’s your emergency?”
