Survive the Night

11

The moon hung like an intimidated turtle in the sky, cowering away in its pale white shell. Ashmore house sat erect on a grassy hill, brows furrowed, mouth rigid. Within the house, the remaining survivors continued their luckless plight to freedom. But on this hour, freedom to them meant letting go of their cares. Earlier, Victoria had shown them (briefly, and without entering) the chapel. Lucky for her, nobody wanted to step inside; they could all sense the evil lurking there like crawling mosquitoes tickling the back of their necks.

Afterward, the gang used up the rest of the alcohol. Since their last night of drinking (circa two weeks ago) they hadn't felt compelled to touch the remaining bottle. But tonight they wanted to cheer up Victoria, and, in turn, cheer themselves up too. Although eventually she'd given in to the pressure, Victoria was the last to agree to the reckless drinking. She'd watched quietly as the boys and Sasha poured back shot after shot of warm scotch, their tongues exploding out in disgust after each one. But they were happy for once, and that was good for all of them.

Ashley had eventually joined in when Geo raised his glass high in the air, spilling some of his drink, and said: "Cheers-to this non-diminishing nightmare, and hoping to at last wake from it."

Ashley smiled and poured her own glass to toast with them. She emptied its contents in her mouth and swallowed painfully.

"Uck!" she groaned. "Terrible."

"Hey, this is sacred water, it's not gross," Mike said, wagging his drunken finger at her. He hadn't worn his skully in days, and his light brown hair sat atop his head looking messy and flat.

"You're next," Geo said to Victoria.

Kevin was standing by a newly lit fire in the room, and Sasha was toying with the incense candles like an innocent child. Winston was hovering over Geo and Mike, watching to see if Victoria would keel under the pressure.

Victoria took a glass and suspended it over her head with a nod. "All right, I'll have a couple," she smiled.

"Atta girl!" Geo hollered.

Victoria gulped the drink in one swig and felt her neck constrict as the burning juice made its passage to her stomach. Once it settled, she could almost feel her vision receive it with haste. She smiled.

"Another one," Victoria said.

"Me too!" Ashley bounced up, suddenly excited.

"And it's a party, folks," Geo said, refilling their glasses.

Victoria felt briefly saddened that Bleak wasn't joining them; that Wendy, Emily, and Icarus would never join them again. But she buried those thoughts somewhere deep inside herself for the time being. Tonight was about letting go. Tonight she would act like a free woman again. They would act as friends, and not merely survivors.

Standing, Victoria felt like a peaceful bubble moving towards the window. She'd had five shots in total, but she had lost count after three. She slid open the window and felt a breeze come in. The others were still behind her playing with objects in the room and laughing. Victoria tried to be happy too. She really did. But her joy felt marred, and as she glanced back at the others and saw the smiles on their faces, smiles that had been absent for days, she knew that their joy was marred as well; induced only by the alcohol in their bloodstreams. They would never again have the simple joy for real things. This joy was joy of survival, of outlasting the horrors of this house. Horrors that might come back at any moment. It was an embracing.

Embracing of what? She didn't know. But looking out at the sidewalk, which seemed to be screaming their names, calling them home-if she had to guess, she'd say they were embracing insanity.

***

Bleak remained in Victoria's room while the others found refuge in Winston's room. Bleak could hear the commotion through the thin grainy wallpaper and heard their muffled voices rise and fall in uncoordinated bursts. Rising from the ground, he pushed his body off the wall and began hobbling to the door. He felt a lingering pain in his back. Must've been from the way he'd been sitting the past hour. Like a hunched monster lurking in the darkness, he thought glumly. But not so; if they didn't have eyes to see who the real monster was, so be it. He would have to punish the beast himself. Victoria had gone on too long playing leader. What was it Wendy had said? That the wait was over. Bleak knew his real enemy was Abner, but it was because of Victoria's carelessness that Wendy was dead. Challenging Abner. Making threats to him! She deserved to die for that. She deserved the worst of the worst for it!

Bleak silently walked across the corridor, listening with his left ear to the noise coming from within the room. He picked off a candle from the wall and waved it in front of him. The stairs appeared in waves of dim light, each step casting its own shadow on the next step. He passed the broken banister and grunted. Even that, he thought. The bitch hadn't even allowed him to take his own life. All right, all right. She'll pay in full.

Once he reached the first floor, he gagged at the awful smell. It's frogs, he thought. Pretend it's anything but the truth. Pretend it's anything except you-know-who's insides. Dissected frogs. Pigs. Baby goats. How could it be that in all their time here, the smell was still as potent as ever?

He couldn't breathe by the time he reached the library, and when he shut the door frantically, he let out a hoarse cough. Dabbing at his lips with his collar, he walked to the end of the library.

The smell was still evident in here, but he kept moving and kept thinking of those cut up frogs. Pigs. Goats.

He found the bookshelf he sought and smiled. It was the most prominent in the room and towered triumphantly over the rest. The shelves were filled with only fat encyclopedias in this section. All black, outdated books; the kind no one reads. If you examined them closely enough, you could notice that the books were fake. But at a glance, it was nearly impossible to tell.

Bleak found the shallow wooden knob--same texture and color as the shelf--and slipped a small key inside. Then he revolved it until his wrist peaked. With a hard shove, the door floated open.

He and Wendy had discovered this secret room on one of their visits. Before this madness, of course. Maybe five months ago. They had never gone in because Wendy had been too afraid, and she'd refused to let Bleak enter in alone. So he hadn't. It could be nothing at all in there; or it could be an answer... Or...

Or what? he thought. How far was he willing to let revenge take him? Would he really murder another human being? She caused Wendy's death, a manic voice reminded him. They were all going to die in this house, anyway. If that was the way it had to go, he would make sure Victoria died slowly before Abner took her life first.

He left the door ajar. It was as thick as a mattress, and completely solid. The room smelled of soggy paper and dead rats. Still, the smell was better than dead...people, he thought with a shudder.

The candle was beginning to reach the end of its wick when Bleak noticed something on the wall. A box. He moved toward it rapidly, his hearting beating faster. Was it...

Yes! Yes, it was!

The circuit breaker. Bleak nearly dropped the dimming candle as he propped open the fuse box. It was down here all along! he thought with a victorious smile. The breaker must have tripped. It had happened back home several times. His pop called it a short circuit, but this wasn't the same thing. This was something even Bleak himself could fix. He tried to beat the candle's slow crawl to darkness. His finger found the ON/OFF lever and he reset it. In a moment, the lamp in the room illuminated.

"Yes!" he hissed. He let the useless candle roll on the ground. A great find, he thought. Two achievements. Two commendable achievements, he thought as his eyes scanned the room.

The lights were back on, and he'd found the perfect place to kill Victoria.