Empty. That was the only word I could use to describe the surf shack that I entered. I wandered the rows of dusty swimming costumes, and let my fingers rest on the fin of a faded yellow surfboard with swirls of blue and pink flowers. Continuing on my search, I found nothing, until I ventured behind the counter.
At first glance it was just a harmless cash register, which I opened easily as the lock was broken. I pulled the drawer open, and inside, sat a single five USD note. Although I was apprehensive about touching it, I reached over and picked it up. Something whirred, and I ducked, letting go of the note. The string it was attached to tugged the note back into place, and I turned from my crouch to see a section of floor opening up, like a vault unbolting. A circular shape of wood sunk into the floor, before pulling apart to reveal a metal staircase that descended into darkness. I pulled the gun from my waistband and made sure the safety was off before adjusting the bags on my shoulders and beginning my descent.
Darkness enveloped me like a vacuum, sucking all of the light out of the world as the trapdoor slid shut above me with the slow whirring sound of various cogs working together. Pulling a torch out, I scanned the corridor in front of me. It reminded me of the video games that Micah, Logan and I used to compete against each other in, with dark hallways where half-decomposed zombies would leap from nooks and crannies, killing you without a second thought. Call me silly for relating it to something so trivial, but that was what it truly felt like. After everything that had happened, I felt that my fears were justified.
I hesitated on the last step, checking one last time that the hallway was empty. My right foot left the bottom stair and hit smooth lino without a sound. Feeling more confident when no rabid werewolves jumped out and attacked, I began to venture down the hallway. I'd taken about three steps, when a whirring sound started up, like a silent generator beginning. At the end of the hallway, a light came on, and then another closer to me. This continued in a faster pace until the light bulb right above me came on, blinding me with its intensity.
As I had originally thought, I was in a corridor with doors on either side of me leading into rooms full of God only knew what. About three-quarters of the way down, there was a crossroads, and right at the end of the hallway, were two great white double doors. Through there, I felt would be Firestorm and the others. Pulling a Lercker Machine Pistol from my backpack, I checked the safety was off before continuing down the hallway. About halfway, someone stepped out from the crossroads, and I halted in my steps.
Dagger was dressed in full black leather, her block boots adding to her aura as she towered over me, even at this distance her eyes bored into me like a scalpel, peeling away the layers until I stood bare before her. Three armed men stepped out from either side to stand behind her, and I noted a pistol hanging loosely in Dagger's right hand.
"Long time no see Dagger." I stated cheerfully, pulling a smile onto my face that felt so fake I would have done a better job grimacing. Dagger simply scowled at me.
"You killed my brother." She growled at me, and raised the gun. "Now you're going to pay. Disarm the gun, put it in the bag, and slide them over to me." Dagger instructed. I sighed, slinging my backpack from my shoulder and sliding the first bag over to her. Then, I pulled the cartridge out of the pistol and put them both in my bag, before sliding that one over to her as well. There was a second of silence, when Dagger narrowed her eyes.
I turned and sprinted back the way I had come, leaping into a room just as Dagger screamed and a boom echoed through the hallway, a wave of fire blasting past the door as I crouched down. Breathing hard, I slowly stood up and looked out of the glass window, searching the hallway. There was absolutely no sign that a bomb had ever gone off, save the blackened corpses of seven people, Dagger's dead eyes staring at nothing.
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Project Frostbite
Teen Fiction"No one knows where the Potentials are taken. If the prisoners resist, they turn up dead the very next day. They call it Project Frostbite." "They?" "Are all dead." ****** For over 6 months now, bodies have been turning up on the streets of New York...