The 0714 Files: File #1 Inferno (Remake 2)

Chapter 17

September 28th, 11:34 A.M

I grit my teeth and take a step backwards, dragging the brutalized body along with me by its lone leg. Looking over my shoulder shows I'm only another five feet from the pile. This is the last to take care of.

My focus returns to the body then where I stare forlornly at it and take in the damage. Whether it was a man or a woman is indecipherable from the face alone, though the clothing and body shape gives away it was a woman. Being unable to tell that detail happens when a body is missing half of its head. The right knee is also missing with the bottom half being cut off.

I haul the body with me again as I take my last step to the pile of bodies sitting off to the left of the now locked gate.

Gasping, I gaze over my shoulder at the sky. It's no longer morning, my guess would be it's still sometime early in the afternoon as the clouds have dispersed and it's unusually warm for the first time in several weeks. The sudden humidity and heat have left me drenched in sweat from the work. If the clock tower were still working maybe I could check the time on that, but with it breaking down last week I can't. I'm just left to guess it's maybe eleven at the earliest.

The smell of blood reaches my nostrils abruptly. A stench I'd been lucky enough to not notice until now in my exhausting work. It sparks a sweep of nausea. I should wash myself thoroughly, the idea of risking going to the shower room upstairs comes to mind. If it means peeling these disgusting clothes from my body, I just might do it.

Walking over to the stairs for the underpass. I descend the concrete steps to where I know a spigot is fixed along the wall. Here's to hoping it still works.

Kneeling beside the metal pipe, I switch the faucet on and watch water run from it. I wash my hands thoroughly before rinsing my face and the back of my neck next. Then I duck my head into the stream of water, scrubbing to remove the layer of grime my hair's been collecting for the last week. More than likely it'll look worse now from the lack of proper care, but at least nobody will be here to see it. Maybe if I'm crazy enough... I cringe at the word, a poor choice for where I'm at mentally.

Maybe if I'm willing to risk it, I can strip and wash right here instead.

In the end, I don't, I just wipe my hands on my pants to dry them and then trudge back up the stairs. I stop when I reach the top of the steps, staring at the gate to the graves. I take more time to find enough wood and nails to board it up in case something breaks through the side gate.

I peek through the planks at the fresh grave mounds and drop the hammer beside my foot. I feebly retreat into the lobby, shutting the doors behind me before I head to the front desk. In the act, I glimpse at the axe while descending the stairs from where I'd discarded it just to the right and shut my eyes.

I attempt to wipe my mind clean, to forget the blurry memory that invaded mine the moment I regained my senses after several hours. But in all this time I haven't been able to. You can't forget something as horrific as this, especially when you're the one who did it.

My legs tremble with each fatigued step. I'm so weak I barely make it to the desk's chair before collapsing into it. I want change into another outfit, but I can barely move. I rake in heavy gasps, leaning over the table as I do so with a hand threading through my bangs as I try to get a handle on my breathing. Try to prevent another spout of hyperventilation, but instead I shut my eyes. I'm too tired to fight the memory trying to play in my head, and I relive the last few hours.

. . .

Panting. Frustrated screaming. I hear a voice that's recognizable, but I know it doesn't belong to me as it continuously echoes inside my head. Where am I? Why can't I see anything?