Worse Than Prison

Chapter Twelve

Shriekers and Hollows

"Where is this freaking main office?" Jericho complained, his eyes scanning the darkness of the second floor. Even less lights guided them down the dreary, blood-stained halls. Z rolled his eyes, pointing his gun ahead of him as he listened carefully. Behind him came Tyler and Jared, who still held Silence tightly in his arms. Megik brought up the rear, his eyes flickering around.

"We better get out of here in one piece or I'll be pissed." Jericho went on.

"Can you shut up for two seconds?" Z snorted. Jericho scowled at him, then looked up at the sound of a clatter. Everyone came to a halt, listening. Jared cocked his head, eyes darting around in the darkness, but that's all that was seen. Blackness hiding whatever was moving within it. He looked down at the teenager in his arms. Silence gazed into nothingness, but he was still breathing gently, his arms folded in his lap.

"What was that?" Tyler whispered, reaching out for the wall.

"Stop moving," Z hissed at him, "It's too dark to see."

"Shut up, it'll hear us." Jericho snapped. Z whirled to snap at him, instead smacking him in the head with the gun. Jericho yelped, clasping the side of his head and backed up until he hit a door. The door cracked under his weight and gave way.

The noises echoed up and down the hallways before silence followed, save for Jericho's moaning of pain.

"God, I hate you so much." Jericho groaned from the darkness of a room. Z smirked, waving his gun around, making Megik glare pointedly at him. Z held his hands up, then lowered the gun as Jericho struggled to get up, putting his hands behind him to push himself up when he felt something warm and wet touch his arm.

He froze, his eyes flashing as his fingers shifted slightly in the warmth of the goo.

"Uh... Guys..."

"You better straighten out your act, boy," Megik scolded Z, who rolled his eyes, "This ain't no hide and go seek game. And in case you've forgotten, we have zombies after us, not little eight-year-olds."

"Guys."

"Will you lay off? I feel like the only guy enjoying this fuckin' freak show. There's a reason I'm in prison, asshole, so why don't you just deal with it?" Z shot back angrily.

"Guys!"

"Do we have to do this again," Jared demanded in irritation as he gripped Silence to him tightly, "We don't have time. We need to find the main office to set up the molo-"

"GUYS!" Jericho finally yelled, making the other men go silent, sharing quick looks before feeling around for the room in the dimness. Jericho shifted and snapped his head around at the sound of a gurgle. His hands slipped in the goo and he fell back, gasping in disgust.

"Jericho?" Z was the one to ask this now as the gurgle grew.

"Move back!" Megik barked, grabbing Tyler, who had stood there frozen. He tore the man back, then blocked Jared, who retreated immediately. Z, however, stayed put.

"Jericho, where the fuck are you?" He demanded angrily. Jericho slipped in the gunk, his eyes darting around as the gurgling seemed to move about the pitch black room. There was a strange dragging sound, like a wet towel dragging on tiles.

Jericho gritted his teeth, slowly rising to his feet and keeping his balance just barely as the wetness slid under his feet. He could feel the warm goo sliding down his arms and legs, the side of his face. It made him shudder as he took a step back toward the door.

"Jericho-"

"Will you shut it?! There's something in here!" Jericho snarled at Tyler, who gulped. Jericho felt around, moving toward the door when something warm breathed against his face. He froze, every muscle in his body going taut. He held his breath as a hot, revolting breath came down at his face from at least a foot above him. The smell was rotten and dead.