They were rushed from both sides; one mob of crazy people coming from the function suites; another from atop the staircase. Annaliese grabbed Bradley’s chair and raced him across the tiles towards the only place she had left to run – the grand dining room. She hurried through the archway on her left.
The cavernous dining room was empty. Its huge mahogany tables and ornate chairs lay crooked and disturbed as if some great battle had been waged there. Blood coated everything. Annaliese almost slipped in a puddle of it as she sprinted across the room. If not for Bradley’s chair offering a handhold, she may have gone down on her face.
The mob was coming up fast behind her. They screeched and wailed inhumanely as they leapt over chairs in their pursuit of her. If not for their wild lack of coordination, Annaliese would already have been captured.
And that’s still exactly what will happen if I don’t find somewhere fast.
Ripley Hall’s kitchens were up ahead, accessed via a pair of swinging oak doors. Annaliese raced towards them desperately, but the effort of pushing Bradley in his chair was gradually slowing her down. The mad rush of bodies behind her was gaining.
They’re going to eat me alive. I’m going to die without ever having a clue why.
Suddenly the doors ahead of her opened.
A face popped out from the gap, leaning out from inside the kitchen.
“Come on,” said the stranger; a woman. “Quickly! They’re right behind you.”
Annaliese summoned a final burst of strength and leant forward against Bradley’s chair. She managed to pick up speed, but her attackers gained distance on her with every step.
I’m not going to make it. These psychopaths are going to kill me.
I’m not going to make it.
Annaliese hit the kitchen doors at speed, using Bradley as an unwilling battering ram. The doors spilled open and the chair she was pushing tipped over onto the floor. Bradley went sprawling onto the tiles and let out a moan. Annaliese’s legs gave out and she went tumbling to her knees right beside him. The next thing she was aware of was people scurrying around behind her, shouting at one another and pushing around heavy objects.
“Come on,” said one of the strangers. “Get the table back up against the doors.”
“I’m doing it, I’m doing it,” said another.
“Damn, they’re at the door. They’re going to get in.”
“No, no. We’re fine. Just keep pushing.”
Together, the group of strangers managed to get the kitchen doors reclosed and barricaded them with a heavy wooden table and one of the room’s industrial fridges. The bloodthirsty mob outside beat their fists against the oak doors, but the ancient wood held firm, designed to stand the test of time.
Annaliese peeled herself off the tiles and crawled over to Bradley who was lying on his side and wheezing. His skin had become alabaster-pale and his finger stumps continued bleeding onto the floor.
“Is he bitten?” asked a voice that she recognised. It was Shawcross, the manager of Ripley Hall.
She stared up at the man, surprised by his wild ginger hair that was usually so neatly combed, and his flush red face that was usually so pale. She shook her head in confusion. “What?”
Shawcross huffed. “Bradley,” he said. “Did one of those things bite him?”
“Things? What are you talking about?”
Shawcross smashed his fist against the wall. “Fuck sake, will you just answer the question, you dumb bitch.”
Annaliese was on her feet in a flash. How dare anyone speak to her that way; especially a wretch like Shawcross. “Who the hell do you think-”
“Yes, I’m bitten,” Bradley uttered from the floor. He held up the mangled stumps where his fingers used to be. “I need help.”
Shawcross shook his head and marched across the room, over to one of the aluminium work counters. “You’re way beyond help,” he said, and then yanked a wooden meat tenderiser from a set of hooks on the wall. He started back towards Bradley and the strangers in the room spread out to the sides of the kitchen, as though they wanted to give him space.