Get Out If You Can

Diego | Visitors, And A Story - Part Two

"You were blank for half an hour or so," I say, not looking at Emilie. We should've seen what was happening to her. I get why she fainted – it's happened to me, more than once, in stressful situations. And stress for ten hours is no joke.

My eyes are trained, instead, on four bodies – or rather, people – in front of me. We managed to get them out of the box in a captive state. They've still got cloth tied over their eyes and mouths, and ropes binding their limbs. That wasn't done to them in the first place; we'd had a bit of trouble trying to do it. They were all writhing around, madly. I couldn't blame them. They were trapped in there, with no clean air, all of them sweat-soaked — for God knows how long.

The first one's a boy with dark brown hair. His name is Derek Brown. The introduction given by the voice is stuck in my head and I don't think there ever will be a time when I'll forget it.

The second one, who lies, arms splayed, a little to the left of Derek's thrashing frame, has blond hair a little darker than Emilie's; and is named Lana Smith. I give her the greatest attention, because I'm sure it's her. She's whimpering words that make no sense, but I don't care.

The third one's a little further off Lana. He's got ginger hair – oh. Fuck. The guy who placed a hand on me, telling me to chill – it was him. The guy at Kat's party, when we were still part of the outside world. Adrian. The name I'd seen as part of the file names on the pictures on the computer. Adrian, who'd gone with Lana to find Caitlyn's body – or, maybe, to assist Lana, had anything deviated from the plan.

Or not. I don't know.

The fourth body is that of someone I know. I'm both surprised and not surprised to see him here. Not surprised, because, well, he's not known to do anything good; and surprised because he's just too dumb to pull anything off. Bruce.

I know they're not bodies, at least not yet – but the way they're thrashing around, screaming through the bounds around their mouths – I have a feeling they've had it worse than we have had.

"A few more things, before I myself come among you," the voice says, and it sounds strangely close. "These four are my areas of interest. Derek, for obvious reasons; Lana, I initially had no reason to include her, but thanks to you, Diego, now I do; Bruce, because of his willingness to do absolutely anything for money; and, of course, Adrian." The voice pauses, and I have a queer feeling their relationship with Adrian's not one of the best. "Adrian, you are here because someone trusted you, and you might have – there is no proof – you might have betrayed them.

"Now, I shall – well, to put it simply, meet you. And tell you a story while you wait."

There's a click. I assume it signaled the end of the voice transmission -- or maybe they're shifting microphones.

My breath stalls. I mean it. It's like a stationary thing in my chest, refusing to move upwards, refusing to be pushed down. It's like I can't and can breathe at the same time.

I look at the others, just to see how they're doing. Alison, like I knew she would, has her hands balled into fists at her sides. Emilie's managed to stand up and look straight. The fact that I didn't realize what was happening to her even after experiencing it so many times pierces me. She looks okay, right now – so I guess that's what matters. Hunter's doing a bad job of concealing the fact that he's terrified. And Matt? Well, Matt simply looks like he always does. Unconcerned. But this time, I'm sure as fuck that it's a mask.

I turn my attention back to the scene in front of me. It hasn't changed in the slightest; everything is simply as it has been. Except for the fact that there's a funny sort of commotion outside – there's a lot of shouting – and there's a weird smell in the air.

The more I notice it, the more of it I get. I look at the others again. Emilie's wrinkled her nose, which means she smells it too.

"You guys smell anything funny?" I ask, my feet dancing madly, of their own accord.

"I do," Emilie says. "Oh, hell, you don't think they've –"

Hunter's face goes rigid. "Yeah," he says. "It's smo – FUCK!"

Everything happens all at once. I watch as bright orange angry flames waltz their way up the sides of the castle, almost choking me with their smell – and then I see what made Hunter start.

I think I'm no longer in control of my senses. I must've sworn a million times in the face of a girl who's supposed to be dead.