“Open it.”
I blinked up at him, then at the sign above the door—Morgue. The shock started to wear off, and I shook my head as I pulled back. “No.”
He held his gun up again and pressed the still warm tip to my forehead. “Open it, now.”
I was going to die.
My life ending in a mess.
I didn’t want to die. Not today. Not for a long time.
Why is this happening?
Tears began sliding down my cheeks as I prayed that it was empty, that all the bodies inside were dead. My hand shook as I reached out and slid my card through the reader, then entered in the six-digit code.
There was no pause in his stride as he entered, only a cool, deadly killer.
Meticulous.
Three snaps.
Cheryl.
Dr. Mitchell.
Micah.
They all slumped to the ground.
My stomach dropped. An explosion of screams was held in by the coiling suffocation around my chest. Squeezing. Choking.
He released me, and I fell back against the wall. Harsh, gulping breaths burned my lungs. The world spun, and my fingers dug into the wall for support.
Loud slams of the fridge doors opening and the ratcheting thumps of the drawers sliding out blasted in my ears. I flinched with each one. He wasted no time opening them all, exposing the bodies, disturbing the dead.
I wanted to scream at him to stop, but fear had me planted in place.
All of his focus was on whatever he was looking for, paying no attention to me. It was my chance to get away.
Run.
I reached out to the side with a trembling hand, using it to guide me to the exit. My feet shuffled in slow uncooperative steps, praying to any higher power that was listening to let me make it out alive.
With a sudden flex of his arm, the gun was pointed straight at me again, and I froze in terrified horror.
“Don’t.” He didn’t even look my way.
I whimpered, my teeth chattering, frozen. “P-Please, Simon.”
“Shut up.”
When he opened one of the last doors and pulled back the sheet, his movements stopped. It was only a brief second, but it seemed he’d found what he was looking for.
“Three?”
He flipped up the earlobe of the man. I couldn’t see, but that one action told me that was the body of John Doe.
For a few seconds the silence was deafening, then the calm demeanor slipped. A string of curses exploded from him, echoing off the tile walls. Then the calm was back as quickly as it had disappeared.
A beeping went off, and he walked straight forward, pointing his gun once again at my head.
“I have information about him you don’t.” My mind raced, my mouth spitting out words I wasn’t sure I could back or would matter to him, but I’d say anything to buy more time.
“Tell me.”
I shook my head, the only movement I seemed to be able to manage.
The beeping went off again. “Fuck.” His lip curled up into a snarl, and he snatched my arm again.
His grip was severe, bruising. We practically ran down the hall, him walking briskly ahead of me and me being dragged along.
After multiple turns I realized we were headed to the parking garage.
“Simon?”
He looked back at me, his eyes narrowed to slits. “Stop calling me that.”
“W-Why?”
He turned from me, scanning the garage. “Six.”
My head tilted to the side and my brow scrunched. “Six?”
“My name. It’s Six.” He let go of my arm and reached into his pocket for keys as we neared a black sedan.
I continued to follow, knowing if I stopped, he’d shoot. “Why Six?”
Was he a secret agent or something? Like James Bond?
Scratch that. I probably didn’t want to know. He had just murdered everyone I worked with. Innocent people.
He let out a frustrated sigh and pushed me into the side of the car. “Because I’m your motherfucking Satan. Now, get your ass in the damn car before I throw you in.”
I stared at the car for a brief second, then slid in. The moment the door was closed, he had my wrists in his grip and was spinning a roll of duct tape around them, binding my hands.
He started the engine and pulled out, but not in the speeding rush I anticipated. Slow. The speed limit of the parking garage. Once we’d driven a few blocks in frightening silence, he pulled something from his pocket and pressed it.
A few seconds later an earsplitting explosion rocked us and everything around. I snapped forward, then slammed back into my seat as a shock wave hit. Smoke and flames reflected in the rearview mirror, emanating from the spot where my building resided—there was nothing remaining.
Everything was gone.
All the shock, the pain, the confusion, and the fear built up and I erupted. “What the fuck is going on?”
He was unfazed by my outburst, absorbed with the I-275 exit in front of him. “Better put your seatbelt on. I don’t care if you live or die, but you may.”
Hands bound, it was hard to maneuver the belt across my body, but after some tugging, it clicked in place.