Zero Day

Chapter 8

Cliff's truck barreled down the highway, the engine's growl a harsh contrast to the deafening silence inside his mind. The woods that had concealed his bitter resolve were left behind as he sped toward Syracuse. His reflection in the rearview mirror was a shattered echo of the man he once was—a face smeared with blood and grime, eyes hollowed by grief and fury.

He had lost so much. His fingers gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline as he fought against the crushing weight of his memories. Joey's laughter, his parents' voices, Randy's and Jenny's faces all danced in front of his eyes, each image a ghostly reminder of what was gone. Cliff's grip tightened, knuckles white, and he fought the urge to slam the wheel in anguish.

The Shelter loomed ahead, its dark silhouette cutting through the twilight. It stood as a monument to the chaos and despair that had consumed Cliff's world. He pulled up outside, the parking lot eerily vacant. His heart pounded in his chest like a relentless drum, each beat echoing the losses he could barely comprehend.

"This could be it," he murmured, his voice a rasp. "But I've got to get Jenny safe."

The shotgun lay beside him on the passenger seat, its cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth of his bloodied hands. He grabbed it with a grim determination and made his way inside The Shelter. The once-familiar building felt foreign now, its silence amplifying his racing heartbeat. He kicked at the front door, but it didn't budge.

"Shit," Cliff muttered under his breath, frustration mounting.

He stepped back, aiming the shotgun at the hinges. The blast from the gun shattered the quiet, and the door fell inward with a groan. Cliff entered, his footsteps echoing in the deserted lobby. Every creak of the old building seemed amplified, a cruel reminder of his solitude.

He moved cautiously through the darkened cafeteria, empty and forlorn. The shadows seemed to mock him, and he wondered if he would ever escape this nightmarish place. "I know you're here, Bates!" he called out, his voice resonating with a desperation that he tried to mask.

The stairwell seemed endless as he ascended, each step a grim reminder of the bloodshed that had occurred within these walls. The same stairs where he had killed Randy, the same hallways leading to his own despair. His former room, now a tomb of memories, was a stark contrast to the harsh reality he faced.

When he reached Bates' office, he hesitated, his hand trembling as he reached for the door. The note on Bates' desk was hastily scribbled, the blood stains mingling with the ink.

"Out of all the people here, you have been the most difficult to deal with. I tried to help you but all you did was go against me. You've made your final mistake Cliff; I have that nurse out in the cemetery with me. If you really care so much come and get her, but I doubt you will."

The words swirled around him, each letter a stab to his already broken heart. He crumpled the note in his fist, the paper a symbol of his failure. The crushing realization that Jenny's fate was now in Bates' hands drove him to act. He stormed out of the office, running down the stairs with a determination born of sheer desperation.

The pickup roared to life, and Cliff raced to the cemetery. The journey seemed interminable, the weight of what he might find almost too much to bear. When he arrived, the cemetery stretched out before him, an endless expanse of gravestones and shadows.

His footsteps were heavy as he walked among the paths, each step a reminder of the countless lives lost. A sinister chill settled over him as he ventured deeper, and then he saw it—Jenny's body, tied to a tree. The sight was a gut-wrenching tableau of horror. Her lifeless form was bound, her face obscured by the rope.

Cliff's heart sank into a void of disbelief. "Oh my god," he whispered, his voice breaking. He knelt beside her, the tears flowing freely now as he tried to free her from her bonds.