Six.

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Two hours passed since the guys acquainted with the strange man. After searching every floor, every room and every cell, they reached the ground floor of the prison, which was even worse than the cell floors; office after office littered with papers and empty magazines which used to hold bullets, filing cabinets pushed open, dozens of files spread out along desks, taped up on the walls.

Colton slid into one office and began picking up papers, sifting through each of them carefully before setting them aside and picking more up, reading those over and then repeating the process. Wilson joined him in the office, picking up the empty magazines and sometimes finding bullets. Jacob, however, didn't help; he leaned against the door frame and watched the men work with slightly detatched amusement gleaming in his eyes.

After a few minutes, he asked, "What the hell are you two doing?" with a slight chuckle. 

Wilson dropped the magazines into one of the empty compartments in one of the filing cabinets and put the empty bullets in another. Colton glanced up from the somewhat organized desk a split second before turning to stare back down upon a stack of papers with typed print on it. A report on one of the prisoners. So far, no hints or clues as to what was happening in the prison--cell doors slamming open and shut on their own, prisoners and guards going insane, growing ill and/or killing themselves. "Looking for a tie to what's going on here," Colton muttered. Jacob began to speak, but Colton cut him off. "Where do you think everyone has gone? Why did that guard puke his guts up, why did another shoot herself? Don't tell me you're not wondering the exact same things, Jacob."

"I was just going to say," Jacob began slowly, waiting for Colton to cut him off again--he didn't, "I don't think the warden or any of the guards would have something to do with this. Firstly, the cell doors rattling around? Impossible. The guard who puked his guts out? It had to be natural, everyone loved that guy."

"The lady blowing her brains out?" Wilson spoke up. 

Jacob fell silent. "It might have something to do with the cell doors rattling around."

"What, like this place is haunted or something?" Colton snorted. "I don't believe in ghosts or demons or anything." 

"You should."

Both Colton and Jacob jumped. Their gazes met and simultaneously they turned to Wilson, who eyed them both warily. "Why are you guys looking at me like that?"

"Did you say something?" Colton asked him. The blond shook his head. He turned to Jacob. "You heard that too, didn't you?" 

Jacob nodded several quick times. He started to speak but Colton raised a finger, silencing him. The prison was eerie and quiet, cold and still, dark all for the office light and the emergency lights which had died down slightly, only flickering now. Colton's heart picked up the pace as he stared out the open office door, but he turned his attention down on the desk and sifted through the papers again.

"Leave, now!" 

The guys jumped again at the voice, which was deeper than before, more...demonic. Colton's eyes narrowed. Cell doors jangled, slamming against the bars, above and below them. "Let's get out of here," Colton straightened and motioned Wilson and Jacob out of the office, seconds before it slammed shut at their backs. 

"Oh, God," Jacob whispered, a prayer of his own. Turning to Colton, he said, "You don't believe in all of that ghostly crap?" He asked, backing away before spinning on his heel and jogging away. Colton cast a look towards Wilson, who shrugged in a helpless gesture, before running after the man.

~~~

Still feeling strange. I might vent some more x_x 

Happy I could get some writing done today... I'm doing my best not to rush this, and I was brainstorming all night in bed last night. These are the results. 

--Allison.

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