Chapter 2: The game begins
"-a new mutated form of the parasite called nagleria fowleri commonly known as the 'brain eating amoeba' that Marielle Franco may be innocent and have been locked for the past three years for nothing-" The news was non stop pathogen this and virus that. It was worse than Brexit in England- or Donald Trump in America. And the parasite was global too. So not only was it on the news in England, but America, the Philippines, France, Switzerland, Afghanistan and Russia.
"If you're going to listen to that glorified creepy pasta channel," Alin, Alex's roommate said, "then use earphones. Or better yet," Alin shifted her position on the couch, "go to a proper news channel, one that wasn't found on YouTube." Well Alin wasn't technically her room mate, but they were in the same dorm and the same floor. It's just that no one had room mates, but everyone watched at least one American movie or show, so their dorm just called anyone who lived in the same floor room mates. Made it all the easier for Alin who had moved to Exeter from Boston, New York a few years ago and was still adjusting to the school system. She had gotten the
"But the news just states the same facts over and over again. People gaining phenomenal muscular strength, speed and in some cases dexterity. Skin turns pale blue, teeth yellow, poor coordination yet incredible strength. Curfew is 8, like that'll help.
Russia has immigration issues due to weather being a natural defense against nagleria fowleri. Parasite spreading slowly across the Netherlands, Europe 86% infected. 89% if you include England. Yadayadayada. At least creepy pasta keeps it interesting."
"I don't understand how you can memorize that but not camera angles," Alin and Alex were both film students and while Alex was better at maths than Alin, Alin had memorised camera angles and finished their essay a week after it was set, while Alex, with her grade 9 in maths was still finishing the essay now. The night before it was due.
"They repeat it literally every morning and evening, how can I not memorise it?" It was much like hearing an annoying but catchy song with a simple beat and the same lines every other verse and having no way of getting the melody or lyrics out of your head.
A sudden slamming of a door down the corridor directly outside their floor's kitchen disrupted their lazy afternoon. The loud slapping of rubber shoes against the floor rang like a heartbeat in one's ears in times of stress. As the rapid steps drew closer, the uneven breathing of a poor runner was heard. The door slammed open, it's handle denting the wall as it did.
As the runner stumbled in, they turned and slammed the double door shut, flattening their palms against it and applying their full weight on it as they did.
"Pass the mallet!" They yelled.
"A lite late for pranks isn't it Silas?" Alin inquired.
"Just do it!" Silas screamed, knowing it would be pointless to explain to them. The parasite had yet to reach England's suburban areas. The news it's new outbreak in Exeter would only slow down their reaction time. Silas raised his heels, hopefully this will add more weight.
"Jesus." Alex whined, standing up and heading for the drawers on the opposite end of the conjoined kitchen and living room, "you don't have to be a little bitch about it".
No sooner had she extended her hand had Silas snatched the mallet from her and jammed it's wooden handle through the wide door handles. He relaxed a little, hands still firmly pressed on the doors.
"Who is it this time?" Alex asked. Silas and his DT friends were known for their winging of literally everything and pranking on practically everyone, but saving the extremes for their fellow group members.
A loud slam could be heard from the corridors. Sort of like the one heard when Silas slammed the door open.
"Get a knife!" He yelled.
Ok so this was a prank on one of the DT guys.
"Isn't this a little extreme?" Alex asked, not noticing Alin brandishing a knife she had pulled out unquestioningly -and perhaps a little too eagerly- from a drawer.
Then a shadow appeared, darkening the space between the double doors and the floor.
Silas' pupils narrowed to the size of a needle. His eyelids glued themselves open.
He turned to Alex and Alin. "Get back!"
The shadow pressed against the door, thudding against it. The heavy thud sounded like it was slamming itself into the door rather than knocking it. Amidst the banging of the door and the beating of hearts in their ears, Alin reached for a bag hidden behind the couch, never taking her eyes or her knife's tip away from the door all the while.
The wood of the mallet started creaking as it broke slowly with each thud. The mallet which was built to be swung down upon meat to tenderise it without worry of chipping or damage to the utensil head. While this is excellent for its intended purpose and cost effective, it was not good for being stuck between the handles of a double door to lock out a parasite-infected and otherwise healthy, well built 19 year old male who used to play rugby. Maybe if it were made of aluminium as many modern mallets are, it would have lasted a little longer.
Alex, having second thoughts about this being a prank and her moral grounds on murder, reached for a kitchen axe and a sharp, three pronged fork meant for spaghetti or noodles. The mallet cracked again.
"Uh hate to dampen the mood," Alex said, "but that mallet isn't going to last much longer," distantly, Alex registered the sound of a zip being opened, "now would be a good time to say 'prankd' because I don't have a plan!" The mallet gave one final crack. The sound of Alin's knife clattering to the floor echoed throughout the room. Silas glanced at Alin.
YOU ARE READING
The Final Gamble
Science Fiction"Look at that thing," Silas jabbed his weapon at its burning, writing corpse, "look at it closely." "Is that thing human?" Alex got her first good look at it. Its haunting yellow eyes. Its pale face, blue like a corpse. Its limbs moved around, clu...
