June 1st, 2017
Clancy's Point of View
I couldn't see that much through my camera. It was way too dark outside, and I didn't even know if this thing was on. All of a sudden I felt a force on my camera push me down.
"Boo!" Pete said. Fucking asshole. Didn't he know I already didn't want to do this gig? I had to make money though. I was already in enough debt back home, and this was the only job that was available in the forefront. Pete walked over to Andre.
"Where did you find this guy?" Pete asked.
"Give me a break, Pete," Andre replied, fixing Pete's microphone.
"Hey!" Pete said. "I only work with professionals." Again, what an asshole.
"Speaking of which," he continued, "make sure the sound is right this time. I don't want a repeat of Amarillo."
"That was two fucking years ago,--"
"I don't do ADR," Pete said, interrupting Andre. Andre shook his head and signaled me to follow him. Who knew the head of Sewer Gators was gonna be a jerk to work with. At least Andre had some faith in me. The three of us started walking toward the house. Suddenly, Pete stopped us in our tracks. He pointed at Andre and said,
"This new guy? I'm not feeling it."
"Again?" Andre replied.
"Just don't be surprised if we have to make a change." I wanted to punch Pete right across his stupid face. If he didn't want me then why the hell was he apart of the hiring committee? We continued on right under the archway of the house. The house definitely looked creepy as shit. Every single window was boarded up with metal bars and barbwire, and vines were coming out of the upstairs windows.
"New plan," Pete said, lifting up a finger. "We do a walkthrough of the inside first, then we shoot the intro."
"Just like we always do," Andre replied. "Just try to say the show's name this time, OK?" I honestly forgot that we were just rehearsing. With the house already being creepy as it was, it kind of felt like we were already doing the real thing.
"No problem," Pete said. He then positioned his flashlight under his chin to make it seem like a scary face in the dark. "'Tonight on Sewer Gators, another worthless fucking shithole.' Happy?" Andre rolled his eyes
"Ecstatic," he replied. We continued on walking past the archway of the house, and up to the front door. This place smelled like shit. I couldn't tell if it was the house itself, or the bayou in general. All three of us walked up to the door.
"Are we rolling?" Pete asked. I gave Pete a thumbs up from behind the camera.
"Alright, let's go," he continued. He then grabbed the door handle and tried to open it. The door wouldn't budge. He tried again a second time, still to no avail. He then took a deep breath and tried a third time, using all of his muscle. The door still would not budge open. Andre stuck his arm out in front of Pete, still trying to open the door.
"Get outta the way," he said, annoyingly, pushing Pete behind him. Andre then tried to open the door with the upper arm strength he had. To no surprise, the door still would not open.
"It's locked--" BOOM! Pete's comment was interrupted by Andrew kicking the whole damn door open. Pete said nothing and walked right on into the house with no hesitation.
"After you," Andre said. All three of us walked into a small, dark room. Window panes were leaning against the walls, and there were cobwebs hanging from the ceiling.
"So," Pete began. "Why are we in hell this time?" Andre gave a chuckle.
"Do you ever prep?" he asked, irritated. Pete turned around to look at him.
YOU ARE READING
Biohazard: A Resident Evil Story
HorrorEthan Winters presumes his wife Mia has been dead for about three years, until one day, he receives an email from her saying that she is alive and wants him to come get her. Ethan then travels to the town of Dulvey, Louisiana, to the Baker mansion...
