AllFreeNovel
Share Us
We make our way to a nearby van and pile in. As we drive towards our destination, I can feel the tension in the air thickening. It’s like a physical weight, pressing down on my chest and making it hard to breathe. The other’s aren’t helping. Their own anxiety is mingling with mine, the weight of expectation and distrust strangling me.
The drive remains silent.
What am I supposed to do? Should I be using this time to come up with a plan? Give them instructions? What would Night do?
As we arrive, the scene unfolds before us like a grim tableau set in a desolate part of town, where hope seems to have abandoned its last foothold. The warehouse looms large, its weathered façade a testament to years of neglect. The air is thick with the acrid stench of decay, assaulting our senses as soon as we step out of the vehicle. My stomach clenches, and a knot of apprehension tightens within me, its origin unknown, but palpable.
The questions gnaw at my mind, persistent and unyielding. Why have we been brought to this forsaken place? Why would a child be all the way out here so late at night?
The disconcerting lack of answers intensifies my unease, casting a shroud of uncertainty over the situation. Every nerve in my body tingles with anticipation, ready to react to whatever malevolent secrets this place holds.
With an air of quiet determination, Hatchet distributes firearms to each member of our party. The cold metal of the weapon settles heavily in my hand, its weight a grim reminder of the gravity of our predicament. We stand poised on the precipice of the unknown, weapons at the ready, as the minutes tick away like an ominous countdown.
As leader, I think I’m the one expected to pull the trigger. I have to be. This is my test. A do-over on the first one that I failed. But killing the corrupt judge who sentenced me to this hell is so much easier than taking the life of a child.
Fuck.
I’ve never regretted a single kill. I know I’ve done monstrous things, things that I’m meant to feel remorse for. But I don’t. I’mproudthat I found a way to tackle my demons. But this little girl isn’tmydemon. She’s…she’s fucking innocent. And I don’t know if I can do this.
Then I look at the others. At the grim determination on their faces. We’re fated to spend the rest of our lives trapped together in the asylum, only being let out for missions like this one. I barely know them – can barely stand Snow – yet I feel the need to shoulder the responsibility for this one. I don’t know their demons any more than they know mine, but I do know that they’ve all been here longer than me, and must have had to do unspeakable things many more times than I have.
I don’t want the death of a child on their hands. On their conscience. Adding to their own list of burdens to carry.
It has to be me.
“Let’s go,” I say flatly, palming my gun, making sure the safety is off, and pulling my shoulders back in a vain attempt to inject some false confidence into myself.
That’s it. It’s all I have to say for them to all fall into line ready to follow me. I wonder if I look as sick as I feel. What the others will think of me when I do this. Will they even be able to look at me? Will I be able to look at myself?
The warehouse’s looming entrance beckons us forward, our footsteps cautious and stealthy. We make our way inside, Snow directly behind me, Honey at the rear and the others somewhere in between. We all have our weapons at the ready, and I can hear the sound of muffled crying coming from somewhere in the building. It’s like a knife to the gut, and I have to fight to keep from breaking down then and there.
War rages within me, two sharp voices commanding my attention.
I can’t do this. We should run.
You have to. You have no choice. You’re doing it for them.
The suffocating darkness is our ally, concealing our advance as we navigate a labyrinthine network of corridors and rooms. The walls, once vibrant with colour, now bear the scars of neglect, graffiti scrawled in faded hues. Our senses are heightened, and our instincts sharpened, as though we have been thrust into a nightmarish scenario.
Amidst the chilling silence, a haunting melody of muffled cries permeates the air, a mournful chorus that pierces the very core of my being. The sound is both distant and near, like an elusive spectre that taunts us with its ethereal presence.
My emotions threaten to spill over, but I swallow them down.Complete the mission first, fall apart after.
We continue our relentless advance, the cacophony of our racing heartbeats the only accompaniment to our journey. Each step takes us closer to the source of those anguished cries, as we inch through the shadowy maze of the warehouse. With every passing moment, the cries grow louder, more distinct, and the gravity of my mission bears down upon me with unrelenting force.
Finally, we reach a metal door where I can hear the sobbing of the little girl beyond, and I know that we have to move quickly before I turn and run.
The handle on the door is smooth and ice cold beneath my trembling left hand. I raise the gun in my right and take a deep breath to steady my aim. Knowing I should just pull open the door and squeeze the trigger, versus actually doing it are two different things.
The latch releases – it wasn’t even locked – and the door swings towards me. I have to take a step back to open it fully. The crying abruptly stops and a softpop pop popreaches my ears instead.
I’m slammed out of the way before I can compute what’s happening. Stumbling, I graze my palms on the rough exposed brick to keep myself from falling over as chaos and debris explode around me.
My ears ring as the disjointed popping gives way to the unmistakable sound of gunshots, and the words “attack” and “ambush” clear through the fog and ringing in my ears.
“Move!” I scream at Snow who’s prone on the floor, as I throw my entire weight into the metal door in a desperate bid to shut it.
Metal can stop bullets, right?
