Fragile Hearts [DANGEROUS FELLOWS]

⚠️FORTY-EIGHT: FRIDAY NIGHT FLARE GUNS⚠️

Everyone was huddled in Felix's room.

You, Zion, Jay and Hailey, Felix, Ethan, and Lawrence and Harry. Now that everyone was here together, you noticed those who were missing even more.

"We have a lot of preparations to make," Felix began, "so we're starting simple."

He pulled a laundry bag to the middle of the circle.

"If you have anything that could be used as a weapon... anything at all, put it in here."

"You first," Lawrence said.

Felix looked confused for a moment, but then quickly realized what Lawrence was referring to. His hand went to his back pocket, hesitating.

"I have it for self-defense," he said. "What if I need it?"

"You don't need it now any more than we do," Lawrence said. "You'll be fine. Put it in."

Felix narrowed his eyes at Lawrence, but still pulled the taser from him pocket, dropping it in the bag.

"Who's next?" Zion asked.

"How about Ethan's bat?" Jay suggested.

You saw Ethan go a little pale.

"He'll end up using it as part of the plan," Lawrence said. "He can keep it."

"What part of the plan?" Felix asked.

"Does anyone have anything else?" Lawrence asked, ignoring him.

You didn't have anything. Your pockets were empty and the box cutter was left in the staff room.

"H-Here," Hailey said meekly, producing a small canister. It didn't take anyone long to realize what it was.

"Pepper spray?" Zion exclaimed. "Where'd you get that?"

"I've had it since before all of this," Hailey said defensively. "If I ever got scared of someone, I'd just blast a spray in their face!"

"I don't think that's legal," Jay mumbled as Hailey dropped it in.

"How much of it is left?" Lawrence asked, and Hailey looked down in thought.

"Maybe enough to fill a small room," she guessed with a shrug.

After that, no one had anything else on them.

"Then let's split up and look for things we can use," Felix suggested. "Anything remotely dangerous will be useful."

"Zion, (Y/n), you come with me," Lawrence said. "Harry, see if you can take anything useful from the infirmary. Jay, stick with Hailey and look around the hotel. And Felix..."

Lawrence gave him a dismissive wave.

"Try not to get in the way."

You heard Felix utter a "sheesh" as everyone hurried off to look. You followed Zion and Lawrence out of the room and into the hallway.

"So where are we looking?" you asked.

"I have someplace in mind," Lawrence replied, going over to the staircase. "The stairs don't stop at the first floor like the elevator does. I think it leads to a basement."

"Basement?" Zion repeated. "Are you batshit? That's where people always die in horror movies!"

"Despite popular belief, this isn't a horror movie," Lawrence reminded him. "We might be in an illogical situation, but that doesn't mean logic isn't still dependable."

"Um," Zion said, stopping in his tracks. "Could you try that in English?"

"What I'm saying is that basements are always filled with emergency supplies," Lawrence explained, shaking his head. "We're bound to find more than one useful thing there."

"Ah, I catch what you're saying," Zion realized. "So no demons or evil spirits?"

"It's the zombie apocalypse, Zion, not The Conjuring," Lawrence said in exasperation, and you would've found it funny if things weren't looking so dim.

At the very bottom of the stairs was a door, shut tight. However, it didn't have an ID lock, and when you tested the knob, it was unlocked.

"What are the odds?" Zion asked, leading the way into the basement. He flicked on the light switch, and the room was filled with a dim bluish light.

"I'll take the shelves. Zion, you check the cabinets. If someone here had anything useful, it's most likely they would have hidden it there."

"And me?" you asked, itching to do something.

"Those crates," Lawrence said, pointing over to a stack by the far wall. "There has to be something good in them."

The crates were large, heavy, and sealed tight. You scoured the ground until you found a small screwdriver, wedging it under the lid and pushing down. It lifted only slightly, and you pushed your weight down on it, grunting with the effort.

The lid suddenly popped off, making you stumble forward. You regained your balance at the last moment, almost landing face-first into the rough, splintered surface. The crate was full of survival items like matches, coats, and many little packages of strange tablets and pills, but all of it seemed to be saturated with dark blue ink, emanating a strong odor.

You pulled your shirt over your mouth and nose, pressing the lid back on and moving on to the next. It was the same case; many useful things, but all of it rendered useless from the ink.

You pushed the crate over to the center of the room, grabbing Zion and Lawrence's attentions.

"Look at this," you told them. "This is the second crate where everything is covered with this stuff. I have a feeling all the others are, too."

"Who's bright idea was it to put ink with all of the emergency supplies?" Zion grumbled.

"Probably someone who didn't want them to be used," Lawrence replied thoughtfully. "I have a feeling they tried destroying this stuff on purpose."

"But why? Isn't the point of this place to help people?" you asked.

"There could be multiple reasons," Lawrence speculated. "But it probably has to do with how corrupt this whole organization is."

"Wait," Zion said, reaching into the crate. "There's a gun in here!"

A gun? You felt your heart skip a beat as Zion pulled it out. It was covered in deep blue ink, but you could see a flash of orange underneath.

"It's a flare gun," Lawrence corrected, taking it from Zion to examine it. "There are two rounds in here."

"Could we use it as a weapon?" Zion asked, scratching his head.

"Possibly," Lawrence said slowly. "But I've already got an idea on how we could make it even more useful."

"And that would be?" Zion pried, but Lawrence had already turned away, heading towards the door.

"You two finish looking around," he ordered. "I need to start mapping this place out."

The door clicked shut, and the room felt silent, the only sound the gentle hum of a generator somewhere nearby. Zion just shook his head, rolling up his sleeves.

"Guess we gotta start digging," he said, reaching into the crate.

The smell of the ink was already starting to give you a headache, but the hope of finding more things like the flare gun gave you the will to persevere.

Your hands were stained blue the rest of the day.