Micah, Cheryl, and Dr. Mitchell… I let him in. I was the reason they were dead too.
No, that wasn’t true. They would have died anyway.
But that fact didn’t assuage the guilt, or free me of the vision of their lifeless, bleeding bodies on the morgue floor.
What horror was in store for me?
In the middle of nowhere, just into Tennessee, he pulled into a small-town motel. It was probably built in the ‘60s, with a dozen rooms attached to a floor-to-ceiling windowed circular main lobby area. There was a pool in the parking lot, but by the debris of lawn chairs and leaves, it hadn’t been used in years.
“We’ll stay here tonight.” He stepped out of the car, locking the doors before dipping his head back in. “Try to run and you’ll be dead in ten steps, and then I’ll have to kill everyone here.”
I nodded and stared after him.
When he returned, I shouldn’t have been surprised to see an actual key in his hand versus a key card, but I was. The place was in such disrepair it was obvious its last update was probably in the ‘80s.
After parking closer to our room, aptly room 6, he slipped a knife through the tape binding me, then pulled my arms out of my lab coat, throwing it in the back. I rubbed at my wrists, flexing them and my arms before climbing out of the car. He grabbed on to my hand and I flinched, earning a glare and a more forceful taking of my hand.
Sticking the ancient brass key into the door, he pulled me in and flipped on the lights before closing up the curtains and locking the door.
The two double beds were dressed in gaudy floral print comforters and looked as old as the motel. Stains in the carpet, antenna on the ancient TV, and smoke residue coating the walls. The smell was noxious, stagnant, like the room hadn’t been opened in a decade.
It was so bad, I stood five feet from anything with my hand over my mouth and nose.
Six threw his bag onto one of the beds, the springs squeaking as it bounced. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?” I nodded. He gestured his head to the small door at the back of the room. “Go.”
Tentative steps moved me into the small, windowless room, and I shut the door. I looked around the tiny space as I pushed the sleeves of my undershirt up.
The bathroom was like the rest of the motel. The sink was stained from years of a constant drip and misuse. Dirty, cracked vinyl floors pulled away from the walls, and the once white tub was brown on the bottom, the surrounding tiles covered in mildew.
The whole thing was straight out of a horror movie. Then again, I was in the middle of one, so it didn’t faze me too much after what had already happened.
I stared down at the toilet with its chipped seat and discolored bowl. Being my only option, I heaved a sigh and sat down. It wasn’t like I really needed to be concerned with germs anyway.
My mind was quiet, still stunned. I was going through the motions, drifting in an ocean of uncertainty. How was I going to get out of this mess?
After washing my hands, ignoring my horrid reflection, I headed out to whatever was next. I stopped after a few feet, and stared.
Six stood next to a boxy-looking, wood-framed chair, the roll of duct tape in his hands. “Sit.”
I shook my head and backed up.
His jaw flexed, making the muscles in his neck tighten. “Don’t fucking mess with me right now. I have no problems making you, but it’ll be easier on us both if you do as I say.”
I looked down at the carpet and swallowed hard, then did as he requested. He immediately went to work securing my ankles to the legs of the chair and my wrists to the arms. He even went as far as taping just under my knee and at my elbow to the frame. Needless to say, I wasn’t getting out of it on my own.
Another piece of duct tape was held out in front of me. “Can’t have you screaming.”
I pulled away from him, but it didn’t help. He slapped the tape over my mouth, leaving me only my nose to breathe from.
“I’ll be back.” He let out a dark chuckle. “Don’t go anywhere.”
I cringed as the door slammed shut. There was the sound of him starting the car, and then nothing.
I scanned the dimly lit room, then looked down at myself. Taped up for who knew how long, all alone in the blistering silence.
My heart started to pound in my chest, my nostrils flaring with each labored breath. I struggled against the tape in a very futile effort to get free. Whimpers echoed in my throat, my face scrunching up as tears started to stream again.
Everyone was dead, except me, but I would be soon. Maybe his fast death was the better way to go, rather than experiencing the cruel torture of waiting, of being subjected to restraint.
Hope was slipping from me, as much as I clung to it.
Breathing became difficult. I couldn’t get enough air, and it felt like I was going to suffocate. The more I thought about it, the worse it became.
Every shot echoed. The smell of the room.
Dead.
Everyone.
After a few minutes, the world went black.