Chapter 11
eleven
I’m a runner.
Not a sprinter, but my body is small. Agile. Built for distance. And exactly the type of Omega we need to win tonight.
Dressed head to toe in black, I match all the other sisters. We’re nervously shifting our weight around in the grand ballroom of Sanguine Manor. Though it’s not so grand anymore.
Ellis’s shoe cracks an old marble tile when a clap of thunder cuts through the air.
Lightning strobes across the crumbling walls, setting our terrified faces aglow.
This is the only room with uncovered windows.
They line the entire length along one side.
The rest of the place is boarded up. Dark.
Pitch black in areas. That will be to our advantage.
An inescapable odor of dust and smoke floats through every space. Already choking. Making the rooms feel smaller.
Because the hooded guys behind us? They look hungry.
A few grunt. One adjusts himself in his black jeans until my upper lip curls with disgust. Most already have their gas masks pulled over their faces, concealing their identities.
Their fraternity color, encapsulated in a vial of neon paint attached to their hoodies, is the only clue who they are.
I can’t get caught.
“Alright, listen up!” Ayan claps his hands and pulls everyone’s attention to the dais in front.
My stomach sinks to my feet, especially seeing how giddy he is for this game.
Maybe he’ll aim straight for Lakshmi, allowing me to gain points for Omega while leaving Iota with a devastating loss.
Having their president tagged immediately would be horrific for them.
Beta hosts the event and is expected to win. But given the smug smile crossing Ayan’s face? I can taste victory. I need it.
“It’s Thriller Thursday. Here are the rules: Sisters?
You are the mice. There are several hidden staircases in this mansion.
And two to the attic. Your goal is to scamper toward one to get away from the fumigation bombs the alumni release at regular intervals.
One point to your house for every sister who makes it to the attic.
Hide. Fight. Or get dragged to the basement where the exterminators await. ”
Ellis glances at me, eyes wide. I nod at her and she at me. “We got this,” I whisper with confidence. But my heart pounds against my ribs, taking my breath with every beat.
“Brothers, you’re the exterminators. You need to capture, tag, and haul your prey to the basement and lock them up in the cages below. One point for every capture.”
“What’s legal for tagging?” One of the men’s muffled yells blares from just behind my left shoulder. I flinch.
“As long as you get some cum on her…or in her, it’s legal. Just make sure you spread your fraternity glow paint on the back of her neck, so we know who tagged her first.”
The more they talk about it, the sweatier my palms get. Boys surge forward as if they’re ready to roll out. We sisters give each other looks. Ones that say: I got your back, no matter what.
But I know from last year it’s a lie. As soon as Ayan blows the horn? We’re on our own. Fighting for survival. And those girls that look at me like a companion now? They won’t hesitate to give me up so they can survive.
“And groups?” another guy shouts.
Ayan’s sneer is so sinister, I want to smack him. He deserves that, at the very least.
“Grouping up is one of the best ways to grab a bunch of mice and tag them. It’s encouraged. Just try not to rip her limbs apart or tear her too badly. The judges look down on that.”
The brothers’ collective chuckle makes my throat clench with nausea.
It feels like my lungs are working. My chest rises and falls, but I’m out of breath. This is worse than before a marathon. Despite participating in Massacre Monday this year, this event is utterly terrifying.
My long braid sticks to my neck, and I flip it over my shoulder. The murmuring in the room is overwhelming. Sounds feel muffled, though that’s probably just my sympathetics kicking in. Squeezing my eyes closed, I take a long, deep breath. Then cough out the musty smell.
“Sisters, you get a five-minute head start to run and hide. On your marks…”
Three sets of double doors fly open, and the crowd surges forward.
“Get set.”
Ellis and I join hands, clinging to one another like a lifeline.
“Go!”
I’m too fucking smart to die.
Shoving, pushing, screaming, we move. I’m not exactly sure which exit we take, but I follow the feet in front of me. We scatter like shards from a broken bottle.
Someone’s elbow impales between my shoulder blades. My arm gets scratched by another sister, trying to hold herself up. Ellis keeps shoving us forward until there’s enough space to find a staircase. Several of us head that way, though some split off and hurry down another hall.
It’s too dark to know where we’re going. So we follow blindly.
“We should split off,” I tell Ellis in a harsh whisper.
“But some of these are seniors. They’ll know where to go,” she argues.
Shrieks of terror arise in front of us, and we come to a rapid halt. Half the group turns and runs the opposite way, and we behold the sight in front of us.
Floorboards hang like broken bones, falling into the room beneath us.
“This is…not structurally sound,” I murmur through gritted teeth as we aim down a different hall.
We reach a series of closed doors on either side of us, gray in the dim light seeping through tiny cracks in the outside walls. Screeching wails of the frigid wind seep through, cutting across my cheeks.
As I sprint toward a new hall, my arm is yanked back. Pain slices down my limbs as I freeze, holding my breath so I don’t cry out. Glancing down, I shudder, spying the glass shards that just ripped through my hoodie into my skin. I clamp a hand over the mess. This can’t slow me down.
“There has to be an old worker set of stairs somewhere near,” Ellis says, and I nod in agreement.
“Keep moving. We’ll find one eventually. The smoke should rise toward the attic spaces first. Watch where it moves.”
Some of the girls toss open doors, scurrying inside to find places to hide.
My heart thunders at a rapid pace as we hear the blare of a trumpet sound, vibrating the worn carpet under our feet. We freeze and hold our breaths.
Shouts and yells coming from far away sound like a layer of Dante’s Inferno. Demons turned loose to stir chaos.
“I’m not getting tagged.” I hurry around one corner, but it’s just another long series of doors.
“Me neither.”
A few of the women behind us follow along, as if we know where we’re heading.
The ones in front have peeled off into rooms or found a way to hide.
Footsteps clamor with the same force echoing in my chest. I grab Ellis and hurry forward as the girls just over my shoulder screech.
“Got two!”
“Tag them! Tag them!”
The unmistakable sound of zippers lowering has me sprinting forward. As we round another corner, a couple of men keep after us. Sisters lie on the ground, squirming, punching, kicking. But they’re overtaken by a group of men surrounding them. Their horrified screams rattle me.
I toss open a skinny door, tug Ellis in, and slam it shut behind us. Fortunately, there’s another one in the corner, and we rush through it, trying to shake off the masked men who spotted us.
We enter another room. Then another. A bathroom. Then a child’s room. Or what was… A terrifying baby’s crib lies in the corner. And in the center is a pile of cinder blocks.
“Grab one of those as a weapon. I’m going to hide in the wardrobe. Get under the crib!”
I scurry toward the cabinet, worried about what kind of critters are in it already. They’re about to get a temporary houseguest. Please don’t be a brown recluse. I don’t want to die today.
As soon as I situate myself inside, I regret it.
The smell is intensely dusty. My nose tingles as if I’m about to sneeze.
I lift my hoodie up over my mouth and nose.
The door doesn’t shut all the way, allowing a crack of light to spill in from a hall window.
If I don’t move, hopefully no one spots me.
Ellis barely makes it to the crib when a man enters and sees her bumbling to get underneath. I clap my hands over my mouth, trying not to make a sound.
If I reveal myself too soon, more could join him.
She squeals and kicks at his mask, but it doesn’t faze him. He’s not too big, but muscular enough that he grabs her ankle and drags her to the middle of the floor. There’s something shiny behind his back. But as soon as I glance at it, he shifts so all I can see is my friend.
My fingers ease into the crack to shove out and help her, but a group of guys barrels past us, and I freeze. Try not to breathe.
They pause and wait, but the masked man appears to get Ellis on her stomach, and the group moves on. More sprint past the cracked door at random intervals. It’s not safe for me to move.
Ellis and I already discussed this. The goal is to win. And our strategy is to have one of us sacrifice herself. She knows it. And if I were in her position, I would want her to remain hidden so I could slip by and have a chance to earn Omega some points.
But am I supposed to sit here and watch her get tagged?
She claws at the floor, scrambling, attempting to get up. Her legs kick with as much force as she can muster. My hands stay clamped over my mouth as I watch. I can’t look away.
Especially not when the man reaches behind him and holds up a sharp, shiny object. It glimmers in the tiny light. All I can make out is Ellis’s waist as she squirms. Inching away with desperation. And the man’s knees as he straddles her.
Then brings down a machete on her back.
My eyes bug out. I almost scream, but can’t.
Ellis makes a dying croak. The life in her face drains slowly as the man slices into her once again with a heavy chop.
I’m too shocked to understand what’s happening. Stars dot my vision. Everything blurs in front of me.
But when I can fix my gaze, I spot the man flipping her limp body over and slashing her in the chest. Over and over. The sound… The sound is wet and heavy.
This isn’t tagging. This isn’t part of the game.
Another man halts in the doorway, his red Converse sticking in my head for some reason. Hope rings in my head. Maybe he’ll help us!
The masked man brandishes his machete for a moment, and the man runs on by.
No!
Ellis gives one last slap that reaches his gas mask. Then the air. The floor. And rests finally on her destroyed body…
From what I can tell, her torso is split open. Intestines spilling like sausages. And organs cut up into pieces.
And my best friend’s cloudy, once beautiful eyes scan the room and find mine in the closet. In a final attempt to save herself, she reaches for me.
I scream silently into my palms. Tears burn my eyes.
The man in the mask freezes.
Then, he rises and creeps toward me.
I’ll never make it to medical school.
The floor makes an ominous groan as his boot halts just outside the wardrobe. He hooks one finger into the crevice as I sob in terror.
This is it…