

Falling into the Siphon

Published by Aver Roah at Smashwords

Copyright 2020 Aver Roah

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author
Chapter One

Plasterboard covered in graffiti is the first photograph Victor Lewis takes of the abandoned mall. From inside his sedan he rolls a cheap camera's film to the next and takes another shot. A heavily clothed young girl, no older than 19, walks into the shot and Victor rolls the camera again. A clipboard, paper, and pencil replaces the camera in his hands, noting the clothing the young girl wears and what features of her face aren't covered in a scarf. She approaches his car and stands outside the passenger's window, her arms huddled against her body. "Why were you taking pictures?" she asks through the thick scarf, her cold nose peaking over the top.

"Of you? No, sorry. You just walked into the shot." Victor shoves the clipboard beneath his seat. "Do you know anything about that mall?"

He notions to the building with the plasterboard doors and windows, the plants outside the entrance wilted in the cold air. She rewraps her jacket while turning towards the building and answers him with a stare. "Why do you ask?"

"It caught my eye. Do you live anywhere around here?"

"No. I live around the block." She looks down the street.

"Are you one of the homeless around here? I could get you a sandwich or something."

"No. No thanks, I'm fine." Victor follows her movements away from the side of the car and down the street; she looks back as she circles the corner. Shoving away the camera and clipboard into the bag on the passenger seat, he turns on the ignition. The engine rumbles, wheels crawling across the curb before he turns onto the street and later onto the interstate.

Back in his apartment Victor tosses the bag onto the couch before removing his heavy coat, dropping it on the floor on the way to his computer. The idle flashing beneath his desk lights up as he shakes the mouse then goes back over to the bag for the camera. Back at the computer he drops the camera in a basket sitting at the side and flickers through various files on his computer screen - public documents and files about the mall.

Built two years ago and operated for only a few months; closing after that. Glancing over the various stores that had a passing outlet in the mostly empty building; the larger areas for larger companies completely blank outside aside from the plasterboard and graffiti. Was he missing anything: a news article from the time it operated, during the construction, was there construction issues?

There was none he could find.

He groans and leans back in his chair, spending two more hours looking for information that won't be there as far as he knew. A clock ticking on the other side of the room glows the time and low light crawled beneath the blinds, faint against the ugly brown carpeting.

He breathes a sigh, "whatever," and shoves the chair out from beneath him for a drink - a lukewarm soda from a box sitting on the kitchen counter. The handle of a skillet peaks over the rim of the sink, bowls and plates covering it. He'd clean up the kitchen tomorrow, he promises himself on the way to the bedroom and drops the half-finished soda in the trashcan. On his bed he flicks through his cell phone for any messages. He only has one, from his ex-wife, asking when he was visiting their children. He deletes it and goes through the missed phone calls. There are two from a girl from work, telling him to fuck off two hours apart, three hours ago. He deletes those too.

He throws the blankets back over and rolls away from the dresser, still thinking about the mall.

In the early morning of the next day, around six o'clock, the alarm clock on the dresser screeches before falling to the floor. Victor, without a pillow, forces himself out of bed and tears away a page from the calendar sitting on the dresser. A Saturday. He can drive back to the mall and ask the homeless there about it - maybe bribe some information with some sandwiches.

But first, before throwing his bag back into his sedan, he shakes his computer awake and opens a web browser, then a bookmark. The url reads UrbexNOH.com, and he goes to his newest thread to give it another update.

Nothing new, but today going to get a lot of information!

Smiling to himself he picks another camera from the basket at his desk, tucking it away in his bag before throwing on the jacket he left on the floor the previous night. He leaves his apartment in nearly the same mess, taking only the bag with him. On the way to the mall he drops by a small store, buying a couple prepackaged sandwiches to throw in the backseat. At the mall he parks his sedan near the edge of the empty lot, approaching a small group sitting just outside one of the many blocked off entrances. They whisper amongst themselves, others pointing towards him.

Welcoming, he thought, pulling the plastic bag of sandwiches out the side window and stuffing it into his near empty strapped bag. He adjusts the camera and takes another snap at the grey building, and one more at graffiti written around one side of a metal door. He makes his way to the group slowly and at an angle, taking snaps at the roof, the dying plants, and the ribbed access doors between two trees. Any glance towards the group is meet with their eyes, and he turns back to the building the first time, and the second he walks straight for them. "Hey, you guys hungry?"

Two sitting beneath a pillar raise their hands and stuff them back into their jackets. "What do you want?" asks a woman buried under two jackets and snow pants. Victor hands the two at the pillar each a packaged sandwich

"I want to know about this place, the mall. Really, that's all I want." Victor kneels down in front of them, rubbing his cold nose with the corner of his jacket. "Anything on why it was abandoned or something of that nature – I read up that it was abandoned shortly after opening. Have any of you been here that long?"

"No, we are just hanging out here," speaks up another, a boy between 15 to 20, from the corner by the older woman. "If you want to know anything, you'd have to either speak with the Vets or the White Rats." The boy just stares at Victor when another person speaks up.

"We're hanging out here because we feel comfortable here than anywhere else in this area," the girl from yesterday speaks up. "The Whites don't like coming here, so they don't mess with us, or the Vets."

"Where are the Vets? Do they hang around the mall or somewhere else?" Victor pulls out the grocery store bag as well as the other prepackaged sandwiches, sitting them in the middle of the oval the group and him makes.

"Not here," another says, and three others back him up.

"They have a secret spot they hang around at, none of us know where they call home." The older woman returns to the conversation, standing up in front of the plasterboard planks covering the glass doors. "And if we knew, we wouldn't tell a stranger like you about it."

"Heather sit down, he's not here to cause trouble," hisses the girl from last night. "I don't think. Why are you here anyway?" She is looking towards Victor and his bag, the sandwiches spilling out of the plastic bag and onto the cold concrete.

"I wanted to know about it, the mall, I was sort of interested in taking pictures of the inside and maybe staying in it for a night. Anything wrong with that?" Victor pulls the plastic bag closer to him and more of the prepackaged sandwiches pop out

"No, but the Whites like using it sometimes," one at the pillar says between bites of the sandwich. "It's dangerous, and there is no lighting in most of it. To be frank, its creepy at night and I wouldn't spend any time in there."

"It's always dark in there, nothing to really see besides dust and rot, probably," the oldest one speaks again, taking glances from Victor to his car in the far lot. "You should probably go anyway, that thing stands out, and this place is off-limits." Victor releases the plastic bag and stands, brushing pebbles from the knees of his pants.

"Alright, I can move it somewhere else. But," he stuffs a hand in the coat pocket, "do you guys know anything else? I'll leave if you don't." None of the group spoke up. In the following silence, taking a span of maybe three minutes, he realizes that they do not want anything to do with him. He was too forward to realize it. "Alright, I'll be off then, I'll leave the sandwiches," he groans as he turns around, heading back to his car.

He can hear a few of them speaking up while he walks away, a few people laughing, and they were enjoying themselves again. When he looks back the bag of sandwiches is near one pillar, it irritates him – he spent his money on those. He refuses the thought that they are homeless.

With a slam of the driver side door the engine rumbles to life, Victor guiding it around to the southern entrance with the camera in hand. More plasterboard, graffiti, scraps of food packaging and empty cups - the same as the others. A window sat above the entrance, a second floor, and inside it was black; perhaps a tarp Victor reckons and takes a picture.

The next entrance is the same, however he doesn't pass up another photography opportunity. Zoom-ins on the White Rat tags fill the next couple images, scattered throughout where aliases and various spray-painted dicks. Beneath the mess was the remains of a purple spray that follows along the length of the plasterboard. Victor steps back, and once more, to take a photograph of the entire wall of white, purple, red, and black. The purple beneath the tags makes an arrow pointing to the right, and a black spray paint scratches across it beneath the other tags. Of course, Victor takes interest and gets closer to the point of the arrow and looks towards the far door where even more tags scrawl across it, a sprayed rat stands on two legs away from the door and holds a can beneath its paws.

He rolls his eyes and groans, shoving himself towards the metal door sprayed with black and white spray-paint saying ''THE DEVIL'S HOLE", and a little black marker points to the door written above it is "the one you stick your dick in". He takes a picture of it, the door and the little comment above it, and reaches for the door handle.

It is locked.

He takes a step back and looks among the other tags and sprays, maybe for something purple like the arrow. The hopes of it being visible clouds rational thought, and he walks among the wall taking shoots of the graffiti on the wall. Anything purple he follows.

The purple tagging ends at a bay door, scrawled over with a white rat and brushes of other colors across the wall and sheet metal. Various tags don't match, and it takes two more photos before he relies the obvious brick sat at the bottom of the bay door and the sloped concrete. With his shoe he nudges the metal door upwards - a shriek of metal answering him. With curiosity quenched, he jogs back to his car and stuffs the camera into the limp bag.

Back at his apartment he throws the jacket onto the couch, kicking away his shoes into a corner while standing in front of his computer - one hand holding the camera. He shakes the machine away before digging through a drawer of loose wires, mumbling "come on," as he searches the right fit. When his computer finally returns from hibernation the internet browser from yesterday greets him. It takes him five tries to connect the camera to the computer.

Survey4 (F:) pops up in a window and he drags all the new images to the near empty desktop, makes a file, and drags them into the unnamed file. The web browser, previously minimized restores its window and he returns to his thread.

I went back to the mall. Talked to a couple kids hanging around one of the entrances. They didn't tell me anything useful, besides that two bigger groups of people hang out there; The Vets and the White Rats - I think the later might be a local gang? Since their name/icon was everywhere. I was able to find another entrance that looked more promising - and sure enough I think I found an entrance!

While I was taking pictures, I saw that some of the tags didn't match up, and so there was a bay door that had a brick props it open. I think I might stake out the area later on just to be sure that it's actually an entrance, and not just some random hangout point.

I'll edit the threat after I go back through the pictures!

With a tap of the submit button, and the following notification, he closes the web browser and opens the unnamed file he dumped all the pictures in. Each images was listed by timestamp and he deletes images from the last time he used it – before today's trip – and opens the first in an onboard image viewer. Boring shots of the building, of the group and the building, blank concrete with scrawls of bright and dim graffiti across the lower walls and dead bushes and bare trees; he flicks through them back and forth, comparing each shot to find the best in the bunch. He deletes those that have most of the sky above it and not enough of the building.

Until only three photos remain of that side of the building, Victor moves onto the next set, going to the two shots at the black windows above the entrance. The photos drag into another window, the later shot becomes a layer to the former, and he flashes between the two shots in a photo editing program. To his dismay, there is nothing in the windows besides the dark background. He moves onto the rest of the set, deletes a few, and moves onto the last set.

The door covered in black spray-paint and covered in the words "The Devil's Hole" photo he renames 'The Door', the purple arrow overwritten with graffiti photo is named 'Purple Arrow', and the Rat bay door is named "Entrance". All three are thrown into another file on the desktop – which he opens and drags to one side of the screen, the web browser on the other side.

"I should watch it tonight, then go in it next week," Victor tells himself. "And get some gear on Friday, and then I could go the following night." He pulls a locked box out from beneath the couch, putting it on top of the jacket. "Might need this, fucking kids might try something when I go back."

That night he drives back with binoculars and a camera with a broken flash. The stake out of the south end of the mall starts silent and stays that way until his watch ticks past 10pm. A group of people with flashlights walk down the side of the building, shouting, screaming, and laughing as they near the bay door. It takes two people to open it and one to hold it open for the rest of the group. When they are all in, the bay door slams shut.

For the next six hours Victor is left alone with his car, watching the bay door and waiting for the group of people, probably teens, to come back out. After a few hours he sees flashlights on the second floor window. So the bay door is the way in, he notes it down for later, and takes a look at his watch. Three am. He starts his sedan and drives back home, falling asleep sideways on his bed.
Chapter Two

A wet stroke across her face wakes Carol Tyler from her midday sleep, a Rottweiler with a green collar stares back at her. She rolls over to the other side of the bed, pulling the blankets and quilt over her head and pushing the dog's face away in one motion. She mumbles into the pillow, low enough that the dog backs off the bed and goes around the other side to lick at her head. More grumbling. Carol turns back over and squeezes her eyes shut in the sunlight that pours past the half-close blinds.

"Alright, alright Tilly," she groans, kicking the sheets off and pushing the rottie away from her face. She sits on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands; groaning and trying to get her head to stop spinning. The Rottweiler, Tilly, prances her way over to Carol's side, sits, and stuffs her nose over Carol's lap. She gets a few pats on the head by Carol, and then nothing for a few more minutes – Carol finds it difficult to stand up. "I need to call in sick," she groans and runs a hand through her curled hair before falling back, "Tilly, get me my phone." The dog sits for a moment and jumps up onto the bed. "No Tilly, get off," Carol groans, Tilly lies down beside her and rests her head down beside Carol's and licks. "Ugh, Tilly." She focuses enough strength to push Tilly off the bed.

The Rottweiler falls with a thump and rolls back to her feet and runs out of the room. A moment later a ball starts squeaking. Carol forces herself up while the dog squeaks the toy between her teeth, growling and smacking the ground with her front paws – then drops the squeaky toy while Carol just stares.

Eventually Carol pulls herself off the bed and makes her way to her phone, calling into work sick, respectively telling her advisor that this will be the last day and she can come in the following week. It doesn't help that Tilly lets out barks in the background. When the call finally ends she falls back in bed. She can sleep, or at least try, but it won't calm her rumbling stomach and Tilly trotting around begging for food. Making her way to the kitchen takes time, but she makes it and feeds the both of them. She falls asleep on the couch while Tilly licks her fingers clean.

She wakes up feeling better except for the 78 pound dog lying across her legs. Her phone chirps in her bedroom; she struggles to get to it before it goes to voice mail.

"Carol! You're finally up," someone on the other end laughs. "I've been calling for the last half hour; where have you been?"

"I was taking a nap," she grumbles, sitting on her thrown sheets. "Any luck recovering the pictures?"

"Yep, and hardly any irreversible damage to the camera now!"

"So you fixed the damage?"

"Uh, yeah, most of it," the person takes a bite of food on the other side, "any who, I'll leave you to get ready for work."

"I don't got any, called in sick about..." Carol looks at the analog clock above her door frame and takes a moment to remember how to read it, "jeez, five hours ago. I had a tough time getting up and Tilly wasn't helping. Uhn," she lays back, "Are you able to come to the meeting later – since I got no place to go now."

"I would, but a friend has some things he needs moved out before the end of the day. If I get that done, I'll see if he can drive me," says the other person, "is it still in the crummy motel? Please tell me it's there."

"I can sense your enthusiasm. Yes, it is. Unless you can think of another location the three of us can get to easily," Carol grunts when Tilly jumps onto the bed and lies across her legs. She stares up at Carol, her tail wagging. "So the same time?"

"Yeah, or later if I can make it."

"Did you talk with Hadi?"

"No, not recently, he's been busy running IT for another copperhead," the person speaks in an almost mocking tone. "He said he was having car problems again, he said it had trouble starting last week after you left for home."

"Oh, shit," Carol rubs at her forehead and closes her eyes – nose, eyebrows, and cheeks scrunch for the length Carol stares up at the ceiling, mindlessly petting Tilly across the head. "Yea, I think he mentioned it in passing last time. Any idea what he thinks it is?"

"He ain't a mechanic, that's for damn sure," the other person takes another bite of food.

"Well thank god I went through the trouble coordinating various travel plans for all of us then. I thought it was all going for waste," Carol rests a hand on her head and closes her eyes, "his car is going to give out again when he's driving, right?"

"I wouldn't doubt it, Carol, it's far beyond saving but he's determined to fix it."

"Hopefully he'll find someone to fix the old thing before it completely shatters any time it goes on the road – then he'd really be in deep shit."

"True that. I'll try and see if I can fit the meeting into my schedule. Bring all the cameras, right? So we can go through them together?"

"Yeah – though you can delete a few you think are just badly taken."

"Oh, awesome, I hope a good bit of them have too much light or are shaky as hell."

"Seeya tonight Alexis."

"Bye." The call closes and Tilly balances her head on Carol's stomach, whining.

"Okay, I'll give you something then it's play time," at the last two words the rottie jumps off the bed and starts squeaking the ball again. Carol gets some more food for herself and Tilly, shooing the dog outside for a few minutes to collect her things in peace. The both of them tire each other out, Carol's legs aching while Tilly still trots about presenting the toys she found scattered along the yard. Only nightfall stops their play, Tilly trotting back in and begs for more food – but Carol doesn't give her anymore and picks up her phone.

"Hadi?"

"Yeah, what is it?" The beeping of traffic plays in the background.

"Your car is doing good, right?"

"Yeah, she's running good. Is there a meeting tonight?"

"Yeah, at the place Alexis hates with her entire heart."

"Oh, perfect."

"I just want to make sure you can make it there without much trouble."

"I'm on my way home now; I can check again if you want."

"No, that's fine. I just wanted to see how your car was doing. If there's an event in which you can't make it with the car, I got the backup transport guide."

"Ah, alright. See you tonight then." The call ends.

"Goodbye to you too." She drops her phone into a backpack and pulls on a jacket with white fluff around the hood. "Well, Tilly, you need to watch the house while I'm gone – but I'm sure you're perfectly suited to handle it." Tilly barks. "Good girl."
Chapter Three

The following week etches a habit into Victor, dragging himself through his shifts and taking detours that loop around the mall before heading to his apartment. With each pass nothing changes at the mall, something he knows all too well as each corner drills in the layout - to the point of seeing it every time he closes his eyes. He catches himself unable to sleep, lying prone on the floor staring at the ceiling until his consciousness wears out and he goes out. Coffee mugs worm their way into every morning, sneaking them in the middle of work and buying a few before driving back home - always drifting towards the mall.

But does he regret picking the mall?

No, he doesn't. Responding to every little question brought to his thread and adamantly stating that - despite the dangers - he's planning on spending a night or two there. Victor eyes the gun safe sat on his desk, reminding himself that it'd keep him safe; he convinces himself. No one messes with a man holding a gun.

On Friday he spends his day in the back room, drinking coffee and staring at the ceiling, thinking about getting into the mall, taking pictures of the intact interior, and sleeping in a dusty back room so the teenagers won't come across him in his sleep. He smiles and sinks down to the floor, the cup in his hand empty and he tries to take another sip. He sits quiet besides a stack of boxes, falling asleep against a metal shelf.

A co-worker kicks his leg until he wakes up, still between the boxes and shelf.

"Vic, are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, just needed a nap." He rubs his face, the cup falling onto the floor.

"You've been sitting here for an hour," the co-worker lifts a box off the metal shelf, "you haven't been the same since last week. What in the hell happened to you?"

"The month's target, can't stop thinking about," Victor stumbles out from between the boxes and shelf, leaning against the wall and holding his face. "I've barely gotten any sleep, can't stop thinking about the damn thing. Haven't gotten a good amount of sleep. One to three hours top, on the floor."

"You should probably just call in 'feeling ill' and go home," the co-worker pushes the door open and the lunch shift cook can be heard shouting. Victor slaps himself in the face a few times until he can walk out the door, get into his car, and get a coffee. It takes time for the drink to take effect, and he stares at the trees while he waits, piecing together what he should take with him tomorrow.

Sleeping bag, flashlight, gun, the special camera, and take a time-lapse as the sunsets.

"Yeah, that sounds good." Victor smiles.

He takes a detour home, riding the highway and passing the mall, staring at it, thinking, drinking from an empty cup of coffee before actually driving to his apartment. He fumbles up the stairs and struggles with his keys, sticking the lock with the key to his gun safe. "Goddamn stupid piece of shit, fit." He grumbles, then starts yelling, and kicking at the door.

"Cut that shit out!" yells someone from down the hall.

Trying another key the door clicks, Victor shoving himself through and slamming the door behind him. Off goes his shirt and pants, leaving him to stumble onto the bedroom floor. Victor scrambles to grab the phone from the dresser, knocking down the alarm clock and the calendar. It's slow to start up and he drums his thumbs against the front until he can get to the main screen. For the first time in days he calls someone.

"Hey yeah how you doing," he shouts from the floor.

"Victor, what the fuck. I told you not to call me at this time."

"I'm doing fine! How are the kids."

"Oh my god, you're drunk. You shit," the call ends and Victor stares at his phone.

"Tch, whatever. I didn't wanna talk with you anyway," the phone hits the dresser and lands on the floor, Victor curling on the floor even as the open window leaks in cold air. He rolls on the floor, shivering and grasping at the blanket far from reach. He lays there in a daze, staring at nothing.

"Why can't I sleep," Victor whimpers, lying with his arms over his face.

Screeching from the alarm clock brought him out of sleep, finding himself laying face down on the floor and in his arms. He lies there until the alarm screeches again – it was 30 minutes after the first screech. "Alright," he says beneath his breath, pushing off the floor, "today's the day, thank god."

He pulls up the bed and stumbles to his feet, falling against the wall. Three times he punches the wall, and three more times with the side of his head. He takes his time to get to the couch and into the kitchen, dragging out an energy drink and downing it completely. The can lands and rolls across the floor. He makes his way out to the car in a hurry, almost forgetting the plastic bag of things he was going to bring along on the kitchen counter. It takes a trip to a local coffee shop to focus him enough to drive straight, downing the first for three before starting down the highway. The other two get choked down on the highway, never stopping the car before it hops the sidewalk near the mall and bumps into the small wall.

With the camera he stumbles out of the sedan, already filming the bleak exterior as he crosses around to the passenger side. "Here it is. The Mall. Closed for six months after opening," he pulls open the passenger door and grabs his gun, stuffing it into a side pocket, "It's been a week since I was last here; only a survey though." He shoves his small dinky flashlight into another pocket, "there were a few kids around last week; they probably won't start anything. I can get out before anyone else can come in later tonight if need be," he slams the door and trots through the mounting snow.

The camera flashes around the dull concrete and the plasterboards covered in graffiti. "As you can see, a lot of tagging here. There's more by the entrance I found." He walks through the low drifts made by other people, recording the graffiti and occasionally turning to the sky. At the next entrance he points the camera to the covered window. "There's one of these at each entrance, but I think they're covered in a black tarp. Saw some flashlights by some kids that were moving inside - so there is a way in. I'll keep recording the outside for now."

The bare walls take up the next few minutes he takes to get to the next entrance, where the White Rat holding a spray can watches over. A shout slows him from rounding the corner, huddling onto a wall with the camera peaking around the corner. A second voice laughs and the bay doors slam shut. "There it is," Victor walks around the corner and zooms the camera's focus on the bay door, "the entrance to the mall. A bay door with a brick to keep it open enough. I'll wait a little bit before going in, just to see if they'll come back out."

He stood against the wall with the camera focused on the bay door, then to the purple arrow, and then he started walking towards the black painted door. "Here's the door. 'The Devil's Hole', wish I knew what it meant by that." He flashes the comment above the door and turns back to the bay door and starts towards it. "Given them enough time," whispers Victor, walking over towards the bay door, and passing the camera to his other hand, "It's safe to go in, I hope."

With one hand besides the brick he pulls and it does not budge, he pulls again and it does not move. "Shit" Victor places the camera on the ground, steps over it, and pulls at the bottom with both hands. The bay door rattles as it rolls at the top and slams on the top guard.

Victor is silent for a minute and then picks up the camera. "Well, that was loud," he laughs and steps in, one hand pulling the bay door back down. Again it rattles and slams on the brick. In the darkness, holding the camera with one hand he pulls the flashlight from his pocket and turns it on. The light goes across the small room, the camera following it in sync. "Here's the store room, not much I know."

Through a door left ajar he enters a hallway edged with graffiti and trash along the floor, Victor flashes the camera and flashlight along the wall. At each door he jiggles the knob, flashing the camera over the few rooms that remain unlocked and empty of sound. At a corner he comes across the back room of a store that leads straight out to the center of the mall - he closes the door to check the rest. Two doors later sat a door partly open, a bag of food sitting on a counter with two people standing beyond another door talking amongst themselves.

He backs out and returns to the corner door, flashing his camera and light across the empty room with furniture stacked along the walls. "Looks like this used to be a small restaurant," he whispers, "chairs stacked up, discolored squares on the floor." He flashes the camera around the room from one end to the other, listening to the two men on the other side of the wall, the camera doesn't pick it up.

"When he came to a few hours later, he had no clue why everyone was laughing," one giggles, the other snorting.

"So how long did it take to get off?"said the second one between coughs.

"About, what, a week?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Chip."

Victor moves away from the wall and steps over broken glass at the base of what was once a window. He continues sneaking, looking back over his shoulder with every laugh from the two teens. Flashing the camera around to stores covered in plasterboard and graffiti, he crosses through the darkness to a directory and flashes the camera across it.

"Okay, so there's an entrance to an underground garage. Maybe that's where the 'Vets' are." He smiles to himself and continues towards the center, making a path between broken glass and trash. "Damn, must be a party here every week with this much shit lying around." He laughs. "Shit man, I should've tried to talk with one of them." Back in the dark hallway glass cracks and the men are laughing again, one of them jumping on more shards of glass. "Shit." Victor pulls himself behind the directory, shutting off the flashlight and turning the camera over behind him, waiting for the two men to go somewhere else.

Ahead of Victor shined down a broken skylight, the arches of the store lengths and the broken benches inside a carpeted ring. A dry fountain sat in the middle of the ring, with bottles stacked around the sides, bullet holes riddle under the bottles and among the lip. Victor, forgetting about the two men walking around behind him, turns his camera to the center as he walks towards it and looking among the details. "Oh man, that's a good use," he speaks loud, "a target range in an abandoned place."

He steps over broken glass and drops his flashlight, putting both hands onto the sides of his camera – zooming in and out at the bullet holes among the fountain. He ignores the glass snapping behind him and crouches down, trying to find a perfect angle for a well lit image of the fountain.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing here," yells one of them.

"Taking a photo," he replies, keeping his back to the two teens.

"You're taking a picture of a fountain you moron. K, what in the fuck."

"I have no clue. Yo," the first person, K, kicks Victor in the arm lightly. "get out of here before you get hurt." Victor does nothing and resumes making a video. "Are you fucking listening?" K kicks Victor in the arm again, pushing him off his knees.

"Whoa woah," Victor drops his camera and holds up his hands. "Don't try anything, I got the same right to be here as you."

"We were here first," Chip, the other guy, pulls out a knife and holds it, "he said get out, so I suggest you quit with your shit before you get cut." Victor takes a step back and pulls out his gun.

"Shit, shit, dude chill the fuck out," they both hold up their hands.

"Hey, we cool now right?" Chip slowly puts the knife down on the floor. He looks over towards K, tilts his head, and looks back to Victor, stepping around to his far right side. Victor watches him with his gun on K, adjusting his grip on the gun a few times.

"Yeah, we cool. We cool," Victor whispers, looking back at K and the knife he was reaching down to grab. Then Chip jumps on his side, pulling Victor down to the floor by his right arm, the left hand still holding the gun and his finger slips to the trigger.

The gun only clicks, and Victor slams his gun into the guy's head.

"Chip!" K runs over and takes hold of Victor's left arm - but his right arm comes free and he hands the pistol over to his right holding it by the barrel as he pistol-whips K. Still in a daze Chip makes an attempt to grab Victor's leg and gets a knee to the chin. Chip falls away from both of them, holding his jaw in pain. K, bleeding from the left side of his face, punches Victor a couple time, trying to tear the gun out of his hand with his free hand on the grip and trigger guard.

"Let go of it!" K spits at Victor, holding on tight to the pistol grip with his left elbow wedged into Victor's right arm that held the front of his shirt. Victor shoves K over onto one knee, K trying to rise to his feet while Victor kicks at his stomach with both hands holding onto the barrel tight. Another impact and one of K's fingers slip to the trigger, the gun clicks once, and the second tug rings out.

Victor has a bullet wound in his chest, spitting blood and gurgling, trying to turn over while K drops the gun and falls back. "Holy shit. K, what did you do?" whispers Chip, rubbing blood off his lips. They sit back and watch Victor struggle against the ground, swallowing, coughing, dragging himself along the carpet towards his camera. He reaches out with one finger and taps one side of the camera until its turned towards him, blood smearing the joint of the preview display.

"Sarah, I'm sorry," he coughs, spitting blood then rolling over onto his back; a hand over the bullet hole torn in his chest, fingers digging in. "Sh-shit," he coughs again and vomit flickers past his lips. Eventually his breathing slows, one hand moving over his face and lies over his eyes and his gnashing teeth. He remains still as he passes.

"Dude, you shot a man.... You killed a guy!"Chip yells, getting up to his feet, falling back onto a bench. "Holy shit, you shot someone." His head falls into his hands and he stares at the ground. K kicks the gun away from him and threw Chip's knife into the darkness, where it strikes shards of glass. The sounds that came from both of them were empty sobs.

"What the fuck do I do now... fuck, god fucking damnit!" K gets up and starts walking away, then paces back and forth, holding his head against his fingers. "Oh shit, oh fuck," he spits onto the floor and sits on the balls of his feet, spitting at the floor every so often. "What the fuck, Chip, what the fuck do I do?" he turns and yells at Chip, turning back at the sight of Victor's body.

"I don't fucking know dude. You fucking shot him!" Chip throws a glass bottle and it shatters against another plasterboard wall. "Lets just, fuck, not talk about this, never come here again, maybe?"

"The fucking monthly meet up is tomorrow, Chip! What the fuck am I suppose to say when they see fucking blood and a body here."

"I don't fucking know jackass!"

When a third voice groans they watch as Victor – still covered in blood, vomit, and in stained pants – rolls back over and pushes away from the ground, throwing up more blood. Even more blood comes from the hole still in his chest, leaking huge drops of blood that makes the puddle of blood beneath him larger, thicker, and more circular. The camera, sitting in front of him, soaks in the blood, and Victor spits onto it. "I'm...." he pukes completely, hacking and gasping for breath at the end and his head on folded arms.

Each movement that follows make Chip and K spit out their nausea.

Victor, caked with blood on his back and vomit dripping off his chin, hands, and down his shirt, sits up on the sides of his feet. He is still bleeding, spitting blood with every breath. The clouds above the broken skylight pass and he holds a hand to the sky, curling one finger back at a time. And he screams, grabbing onto his chest and into the hole dug into his lung. He turns back, holding onto his chest, and speaks. "Help me," he starts with a whisper. "Help me," he rises to his feet, one hand held out. "Help me," he takes a step forward and blood splashes onto the side of the fountain, filling the bullet holes. "Help me!" he stumbles and holds onto the side of a bench, the hole exposed and his shirt making a triangle towards it.

Chip and K run back into the darkness, K grabbing the flashlight Victor came in with and leading them both out of the mall. Victor stands still for another moment, and falls onto his knees, almost falling to his side again. "Oh god, I'm going to die again." He vomits again, and holds his head in his bloody hands, and then through his hair. "please," he leans back and stares at the distant sky. "help me, someone," he whispers. His head falls back into his hands, and he sobs as he still bleeds and tastes copper.
Chapter Four

Carol parks her car in the lot of a cash-only motel with her phone plastered to an ear, listening to someone on the other side of the line. She speaks sharp 'yes's and 'ah-huh' while she shrugs off her coat and drops it in the back seats and reaching for a plastic bag and a flat backpack. "Yeah, the meeting place is at," she looks to the dim sign above the motel office, "Scott's motel. . . yeah, off the 3-20, exit 26." She throws the two bags over her shoulder and picks a clip of 30 dollars from her pocket. "I'm buying the room now, try not to be late this time Hadi."

Carol stuffs the phone into her jean pocket and recounts the fold of cash, 30 just as she counted earlier. She shakes her head at herself, and pushes into the office. A guy half her size looks up from a piece of paper when the bell rings, "Oh, Carol." The door slams.

"Same wage, right? 30 for three hours?" She passes the clip across the counter.

"ID," he pushes the paper and pencil off to the side and pulls a log book from a drawer.

"Bob, it's me." Bob points the back of his pen to a camera sitting behind him. Carol pulls up the backpack and digs through the front pocket for her wallet. "Here," she flashes him the back of her wallet, her Driver's License in full view.

"Wish I could do it like I used too, really, but I could be fired now," he scribbles down into his log book, scratches some things out, and rechecks against a piece of paper hidden from Carol's site. "Alright, looks like B4 is still available." He pulls a lanyard out from his shirt and unlocks another drawer, fishing for the key. "Far warning, Carol. There's a screamer in A5 and they paid for seven hours." He holds the key's tag and ring up.

Carol's nose wrinkles as she pockets the key. "Thanks Bob, I really needed to know." Her wallet drops back into the backpack and she stuffs the plastic bag and its content into it. She turns to leave, takes a step, and turns back, "do Alexis and Hadi have to show ID too?"

"Pff, yeah."

"Uhh, I'll send them up when they come."

She pushes the door open with her hip and closes it slowly with the side of her foot. With the door closed and Bob back to whatever puzzle he started on, Carol starts up the closest pair of stairs, shoving the backpack over her other arm. Passing B1 she hears a person crying and murmuring, and she quickens her pace to B4. She unlocks the door, throwing her stuff down onto the single-sheeted bed, and closes the door, sliding a chain lock over the knob.

She too lands on the bed and pulls off her shoes, pulling the backpack over and sliding it off the bed. Carol digs into it and pulls out everything except her wallet, balling the plastic bag and throws it back into the backpack. Her phone rings. "Hello?"

"Yea Carol, I might be running late this time."

"Hadi, you need to get that thing fixed." Carol sits back and pulls out a small binder.

"Yes, I know, it'll be fixed by next week, or the week after that, I don't know."

"I can always just give you some money," outside the motel, a police siren races past.

"No, I won't let you do that."

"Fine, how long do you think you'll take to get here?"

"A half hour. Or an hour. What's the nearest cross section?"

"Uh," Carol flips through the binder, tracing her finger across the backup transportation plans, "106th and Avon avenue... Hello?" She traces around the backup bus routes for each of them. In the background of the phone call she hears Hadi mumbling. "You need to take the 105 route, it's the closest to here."

"Alright, and from, uh, the bus station on 13th and Sullivan?"

Carol flips through some more papers. "Uh, 36 minutes at the least, 45 at most I think. When did the bus leave?"

"It left just before I got here."

"Okay, stay there and get on the next bus." Someone knocks at the door. "Hold on Hadi. Who is it?"

"Carol, for fuck's sake let me in, my arms are dying," a woman's voice whines.

"Hold on Alexis, Okay Hadi, we'll be waiting in B4. You got your ID right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Bob needs you to check in," she turns to the door, "Alexis, drop the shit at the door and check in with bob, he needs your ID."

"Fucksake," groans the woman on the other side of the door, and there's a thump. Carol closes her call with Hadi as she crosses to the door and unhinges the chain lock. Looking down the hall, Carol saw Alexis digging around her purse, and she started pulling in two backpacks.

Inside she unpacks Alexis' cameras, putting them on the other side of the bed and her laptop in between them. The wires were strung between all of them, Carol just dropping them down as she pulled them out. She wasn't going to mess with Alexis's delicate setup. While she waits for Alexis to return, she opened a container of pizza bits, munching on them while flipping through her binder. Straight-from-website pages flip back and forth, red marks circling and crossing out a list of various locations between Ohio, Kentucky, and Indiana.

She pulls a red pen out of the back pocket of the binder, "Nah, not there," she crosses out a old factory, and adds on the side 'set for demolition'. Two taps on the door get her off the bed and unlock the door again.

"Is Hadi going to be late again?" ask Alexis, squeezing past Carol.

"Yeah, he's still having car trouble; he might get here in an hour or so." The door slams, the lock clicks back in. Alexis fiddles with her wires, snaking them around and connecting all three cameras to the laptop. "Want some?" she offers the container of 4 cheese pizza bits.

"Sure," Alexis grabs two to stuff into her mouth, and returns to the laptop. She taps in a password, user name, and opens each camera's drive in separate windows. "Any idea where we're going to go? Or when."

"The recent list is in the binder, but I still need to look through a few of them – check to see if they are set for demolition and such." She sits back on the bed and settles the binder between her knees, the container on the nightstand. "That one factory is going to be demolished sometime in the next month or two, and the annual asylum got big plans ahead of it, Rick's got a few groups of people that want to start doing this sort of thing."

"Oh god, that poor building. She's going to get wrecked even more." Alexis taps through a few photos, deleting the ones that are blurry or are too bright. "Shit, I really need to get a new flash for this one," she taps one of her cameras, its small frame dwarfed by the larger camcorders at either side. "Got a lot of blurry pictures last time."

"Fuck, as if Hadi's car wasn't being as much of a bitch," Carol scratches off another location on her list, eats another pizza bit, and holds the container to Alexis – she takes a handful and eats them off her palm. "Think you can check the forums while we wait?"

"Yeah, just give me a minute here," Alexis reconnects one of the cameras and puts it back down. With the camera completely connected, she opens a browser and types in the regional-state forum, UrbexNOH.com. She scrolls through the news post, then the technology sub-forum, and goes over to the pre-planning forum. "Want me to read off some people and the locations they are planning to explore?"

"Yeah, I'll cross examine with this." Carol shakes the papers over her shoulders.

"Alright," Alexis opens each recently posted thread, six tabs blink across the browser. "Starting off with Will1994, he's doing the lake-side summer school near Dilton."

"I'll look for him in the papers."

"ChesireCat38 plans to film Cedar Point at night, sneaking in," Alexis turns her face away from the screen with her eyes closed, snorting air. "7TrevorSnake7 is doing that factory, which you said is going to be demolished."

"I should tell him."

"You can tell him when you get home, he's planning to do it in two weeks. Plenty of time. Oh, this one looks interesting."

"What?" Carol leans back on the bed and Alexis turns the laptop so they both see it.

"VTLewis is going to an abandoned mall, in Findlay." Alexis pulls the laptop over to her and scrolls down. "I didn't know there was an abandoned mall in Findlay."

Carol shrugs, "Not enough people drive or look in that area, or along highway 75." She goes back to her list of locations."There is a place in Sandusky I was interested in seeing. Old church, closed for renovations but not enough money to do so."

"That does sound like a two hour stay though."

"There is another in Port Clinton as well, we could plan to go see both locations."

"What's the one in Port Clinton?"

"Shipping dock."

Alexis looks back to her laptop and taps about it, scrolling through some more ruined pictures from the camera, and finally responds. "Alright, we can do a two-fer. I need to build up some money though so we can stay a night in a motel somewhere near both places. I ain't going to take a trip to Sandusky and Port Clinton and come back in the same trip."

"Fine by me," Carol scratches her chest and gets up to go to the bathroom.

Alexis looks at the clock in the corner of her computer, 6:17, a few more minutes till Hadi should arrive. She flips back to the browser and reads the complete first post by VTLewis, scrolling past a picture of a White Rat and a door with 'The Devil's Hole' written in red – she rolls her eyes at the comment below it. "The one you stick your dick in," she scrolls past the comment and to the bay door and skims over its description.

Returning to her laptop, picking it up and sitting against the backboard, Alexis switches back to the camera files. Flickering through hundreds of pictures from each camera, she deletes them with a combination of keys, flagging some to look at later with Carol and Hadi. When Carol returns from the bathroom and sits on the other side of the bed, Alexis cleans the recycling bin. "Carol," she disconnects the smallest camera from its wire.

"Yeah?" Carol opens a bottle of water and water fountains it down.

"Think next time you can hold the flashlight farther? Quite a few on here," Alexis taps the side of the small camera, "got oversaturated with light." Alexis puts the camera down on the other nightstand and returns to her laptop.

"Pff, how old is that though?" Carol pulls the binder and papers onto her lap.

"Three, four?"

"Old in camera terms, could have a busted lens, or something," Carol mutters the last part as she goes back over the information for their next trip. Alexis almost responds when Carol's phone rings. "Hold on," Carol slides the loose papers beneath pages in the binder and picks up her phone in one motion. "Hadi?"

"Yea, I'm on the bus now, but it took a different route."

"What? Why," Alexis closes her binder and gets off the bed.

"To get around an accident," the bus announcement system rings in the background and an electric voice read a street. "I'm getting off at the next stop; hopefully I'll be there in twenty minutes." The call ends.

"Hadi will be here in twenty minutes," Carol puts the phone on the nightstand and gets back to her binder. For a few minutes, the tapping of keys and a pen on binder are the only sounds besides someone screaming down the hall. "Hey, I was thinking," Carol flips back through her binder and to the backup driving map.

"Yes."

"We should probably just get together at each other's home, since Hadi is having car problems. That and spending 30 bucks plus gas isn't something I can do in the long term."

"Yea, though it can't be my place." They think back to Hadi's dog allergies.

"My place has thin walls, but I guess for a few get-togethers could be worth it. How about Hadi's place."

"We should wait until he gets here." Alexis taps through the tabs she had open, clicks on VTLewis' profile, and starts reading though it. "Huh, this guy lives in the same area as Hadi."

"Really?"

"Yeah, doubt they know each other, Hadi doesn't go on here often." She closes off the browser and return to the camera files, picks a few, deletes a few, and empties the recycling bin. Over the next thirty minutes not much is said between them, Carol handing Alexis some snacks, the clock ticking on the wall, someone screaming on the lower level and a pair yelling at each other. "What a place," Alexis keeps her eyes on her laptop.

"Pff," Carol's phone rings again, "Hadi," she looks to the clock, "where are you?"

"Just down the street, had to make a detour," ruffling of a coat was heard on the other side. "I'll be there in five, does Bob want my ID to let me in?"

"Yeah, we're B4, don't mind the screaming lady on the first floor," Carol looks over at Alexis, her brow twisting into a frown and a pair of earphones dangling down to her pocket. "Alexis sure is."

"Oh screw you, Carol," says Alexis, replacing an ear phone.

"See you in a bit," Carol puts her phone down.

A few more near silent minutes pass before Hadi knocks on the door and Carol lets him in. Alexis pulls her cameras up beside her and goes through the rest of the videos on the other two cameras, her ear phones half set with one side in her hand. Hadi brought a container of now cold turkey slices, which they all choke down. Carol repeats the places she and Alexis agree on and of any arrangements they could make for next time – Hadi volunteers his place for the next meeting.

"Hey, Hadi, do you know someone that has the name 'Lewis'?"

"No, not really... why?"

"Well," Alexis pulls up VTLewis' profile, "This guy found an abandoned mall no one else has heard about, and he left to see it this morning. From his contact information, he lives around the same area as yours apartment is."

Hadi motions to Carol's container of pizza slices, she gives it to him, "Oh, well there's quite a few apartments in my area, it's not really surprising."

"We could see if he wants to join our posse," Alexis snorts and gets back to the cameras. "Okay, I've gone through and removed any that were less than great, how much time do we got now, Carol?"

"About an hour 25," Carol shuts her binder and stuffs it into her backpack, and puts the container that had the pizza bits away as well.

"Great, then we have enough time to go through either the photos and one camera of videos, or both video cameras."

"How about a photo and video, we can go back over them again next week. I got a projector that I practice my slides with," Hadi brings up, swinging his feet up onto the bed.

"Oh, cool! Yea, that sounds great," Alexis smiles and reconnects the photography camera. "Alright, which Camcorder, A or B?"

"B, since it has the least amount of recording on it."

The three of them go over 172 photographs taken last week at a theatre in Detroit, repeating their memories they had there and pointing out the most important ones to keep and post online. Hadi is more partial to the wide open shots, Carol doesn't want any that have her in the frame or asks to crop it so she's not in it, and Alexis looks for any flaw in the photographing. The image count on the camera goes down to 83, with some flagged for editing later on. The video reviewing takes longer – each of them laughing at one point or another had having a difficult time deleting most of them.
Chapter Five

I remember being in a fight.

Some kids came up behind me, pulled a knife – I pulled a gun on them.

And I was the one that got shot, with my own gun.

I remember it tore through my chest and after that came the copper taste, snorting blood as it fills my mouth and nose. Hard to breathe - rolling over was a bad idea, it made it worse. It's so hard to take a breath through so much blood, I can still taste it. Dragging, clawing at the floor. My chin digs in as deep, pain clouding over sense.

I'm so sorry, Sarah. I'm so sorry that I wasn't want you needed, what Henry and Rebecca needed. Please, something stop the pain, I can't hold on for much longer. I can feel the hole, the ribs, a bit of air rushing past fingers. I taste the acid and the coffee. It mixes with the copper. So horrible, stop it, please help me.

Help me, someone.

I can't die here.

The pain drains, but I am still here.

Still here.

Still...

Spiraling, my mind spirals down, down. It stirs, Sarah is holding the kids and beckoning me closer, her arm held out – I can't see her face, but it's her. I feel her close, arms around her, smelling her sweater – I want to stay, hold her again, and apologize for everything. Take the kids to Cedar Point again, watch as they beg to ride the bigger rides, drag us off to the rides they can get on, and ride them until the sun sets. I want to have a home-made dinner and sit in the kitchen, asking Henry about soccer, color a book with Rebecca. Laugh at movies, sit through the movies, and make bad jokes. And Sarah would sit in another room with Rebecca, and I'd sneak Henry games too mature for him. That is where our first fight started, and I lost my office job...

I just want to apologize, please, I just want to stay alive.

My head swirls, I can't see, it feels like it was slammed. Rolling over should fix it – something is wrong, everything is wet. Getting up should not be hard. I can't see. Pushing, my head rises, and I throw up, oh god, what's wrong with me; heaving each breath, throat constrict, I cough and spit.

I'm sick. I breath in deep and throw up again, and I lay my head down.

If I can just sit up, I'll be fine. Something wets my back, puke still sliding down my front and my chin. I arch my back and push off the floor, my face to the sky.

I can see the clouds, they are bright against the sky, and the glass above is broken. It's beautiful, I can see the sky and reach to touch it. Curling one finger at a time, pain returns. My hands, they are red, they are dripping, and it's blood.

Blood. My blood.

My chest hurts, there is something wrong. It's wet, a hand moves to it, there is chunks on my shirt and they are sticking. A wet hole – this can't be my chest – fingers wiggle in and feel air rush past them and something spatters my fingers as I breathe.

I scream, there is a hole in my chest.

I can feel my lungs!

Looking for any sort of help, someone, behind me is two kids that are just staring, standing still.

"Help me," I whisper.

"Help me," I whimper. I stand and reach out to them; they must be here to help.

"Help me," I take a step and a liquid splashes at my feet.

They are still standing there and staring, why aren't they helping? "Help me!" I scream and hold myself up against a bench. My legs, they ache. I swallow back blood when they run, grabbing a flashlight and going into the darkness. I need to follow them.

I fall down, there is liquid rising in my throat, oh god, I'm going to puke.

"Oh god, I'm going to die again," and the puke forces itself out. My hands, my bloody hands soaked in my own blood, they hold my face and run through my hair. I can't stop the tears anymore, "please," I let my arms fall and stare back to the sky, "help me, someone."

I can't handle this, why am I still alive, I sob into my hands. Why didn't they help me, why did they run? I want to sleep, I want the pain to go away, I want to disappear.

I want to die. I wish I were dead.

I'm walking in darkness, the dim traces of sunlight fading out of the sky while clouds cluster above. Beneath my shambling steps glass crackles and snaps, blending in with the tiles and trash that builds against the sides of the empty shops. Boarded doors and store windows meld with the darkness and I struggle to see in the small trace of twilight.

Pain forces me down with each step and I listen to the blood falling to the floor, a sick plop that swings in tandem with the sharp breaths, air leaving through the slop of drying blood and soaked clothing. I swallow down blood even though it hurts, I can feel scratching in my throat for every gulp. The directory is a few more steps away, I can see the outline of the building, its bulbous chain store pointing from an uneven shape.

I can't stop falling into it, my head slams against the metal backboard and then to the floor. Blood drips over my sight and I push back up, snorting out blood and tiny shards of glass. I can't help but lean against it as I rise, my head spinning and my vision a fog of darkness and little light. I turn into it, my head knocking on it again, and I struggle to stand and look at it.

A big hole breaks away part of the map where tiny trails of blood drip down, a finger drags down the trail and follows to a bottom section, numbers I can't read printed across it among the dust. The dust and blood trails over to the side, following the finger down the list of blank names and stores, and sections.

"Garage," I barely breathe out, coughing blood onto the board and among the dust. I can't stop coughing, I double over and hold my gut as it twists inside, and I wheeze. Nothing is going to come out, I throw up only blood from my lungs, and my chest caves in each cough.

Help, help could be there

I can stumble out and get help. An ambulance will come, I will pull through.

Sarah will be there, Henry will be there, Rebecca will be there.

I turn around and start walking, legs trembling in each step and blood is spat out every few steps. My gut still twists, wants to spill itself, but there is nothing.

There is only me in the darkness, the glass whispers as I pass and wind twisting against my back. Fresh blood still rises and overlays the dry and sticky branches, the dry blood cracking off my arm and falling among the trail I have made. I am a ghost, trailing red tape that will lead me back to my start, where I should still lay dead.

I need to get home and apologize to Sarah.

The faint echoes of voices bounce around the silence, crackles of laughter and coughing down the stairs. Dragging my legs, holding the hole in my chest, I barely hold onto the railing to the side of the still escalator without slipping. If I get down there, I can get help, can return home.

The first step is easy, lowering myself slowly while listening to the distant voices. Another step and blood squirts through the hole in my chest and down across my shoe. The next I barely make and fall backwards, barely screaming before my head smacks against the metal, following close behind is my face, my legs, my arms, an ankle twists and the searing pain keeps me silent. Face to the floor I lie still, papers sticking to my face, pain searing through my stomach before moving to a sitting position. I heave and spit blood, turning over to my knees before nausea hits me - I grab my throat and squeeze before I puke blood. The nausea passes, waiting for my eyes to adjust and for the papers to fall away.

The voices are still there; they are still laughing and someone coughs. The homeless, or the veterans, whomever the other group said before. They know the in and outs, they can get me out. I stand on weak legs and slip back to the floor, pain twisting through a broken leg and both hands hold tight. It's survivable, but I should be dead. As the voices start to dim I struggle back to my feet, leaning against a pillar before I move. Limping, smearing blood along every surface I touch, I try to work myself to speak. There's light ahead, small cardboard boxes, mattresses, and chairs sit gathered around it, shapes of bulky figures break from the darkness in the fire. I could yell, but my throat is raw.

So I keep limping, dragging the twisted ankle forward in every slow step I take, letting blood spill down from my lips instead of spitting, or hacking, I need help; not another death. Though some are starting to lay down on mattresses in sleeping bags and sheets, few stay sitting up, speaking low beside the fire and breaking glass bottles.

I don't care what they are saying, I just need help. My pace remains slow, the limp remains and with each step work up my throat a little bit more. Liquid flood my eyes, my chest breaks out in pain. I want to scream, I want to shout, but only a tiny "please" starts at a whisper - the second time it's heard

The two still awake turn, their faces mute in their shadows. "Oh my god!" screams one of them and it stands. I'm overcome, the twisted ankle returns, the bubbles rumble out my chest, and I fall face first and lay on one side. "T, there's a bleeding guy!" the same person screams while I stare at the floor, still bleeding, blood leaking through my nose and mouth. I cough.

"He's still alive," a person whispers, there is a hand on my side and it moves along my back. The hand pounds against my spine and I cough, spit, heave, I can't open my eyes through the pain. "Lill, can you get a blanket?"

"What happened," whispers someone in the distance.

"Don't look," repeats the person from before.

Their words are blurring. Hands are pulling at my bloody clothing and they turn me over, and they tear at the buttoned coat, tearing it away from the hole still bubbling up. I just want to die, I can't take living anymore. Sarah can live in comfort now, I wish I were dead.
Chapter Six

"Just call him," Alexis groans from the passenger seat, slipping down as she stares at the van sitting in front of them. Carol taps against the side of her car in the rhythm of the radio, humming along and staring at the tail lights of the cars in front of her. Alexis taps the radio off, "are you even listening?"

"Yeah, his block is just a short ways up from here," Carol turns the radio back on and turns it up. "No reason to call him." Alexis lays her head to the right and sigh, reading the signs outside her window. "What?"

"You told him we were going to be there, right? Around this time?"

"Yes. Yes I did, I got his number on here twice. You want to check," as the light turns green and the cars in front of her move, she holds her phone out to Alexis – who takes it when the van in front of them moves. "Just hope he's wake, he sounded tired when I called him."

"Ah, must be on his fucked sleep schedule again," Alexis drops the phone in the cup holder and sits back. They pass another light and Carol clicks the left turn signal. "Have you been to the site recently?"

"Nah, why?" she pulls the car across the eastbound lanes and into a parking lot. Putting less pressure on the gas, the car crawls forward, Carol looking around the apartment buildings.

"There was a notice up on the plan page – do you remember the VTLewis profile?"

"Yeah, guy was planning a trip to the mall," she stops the car and waves out the window. "Hey Hadi! Where do you want me to park?"

"At the block that reads 147," Hadi replies, leaning over his balcony rail.

"Alright," she shouts and presses the gas gently, watching out the window for a block reading Hadi's apartment number. "What about it, Alexis?" When she finds the block she drives into the space, puts the car in park, and pulls the keys out.

"There was a notice that linked to his page on the forums today. He hasn't made a follow up to his post or been online in a week, and those that have his number can't contact him." Alexis unbuckles herself and steps out of the car, slamming the car door and opening the back.

"Huh," Carol pulls her backpack out off the back seat. "Strange."

"Yea, though it's way too early to suspect that he's missing. Shit, you remember JJ?"

"Pff, how could I forget? That fuck plans to go somewhere and fucks off before we pick him up. Got himself hopped up and took a train and never came back. Where is he now?"

"Fuck if I know," Alexis heaves all of her bags over her back and shuts the back door with her foot. She backs away from Carol's car and goes around someone else's sedan, hopping up to the sidewalk beside Carol. "Last I heard he was behind rent and wanted me to help him out with it."

"What a shit," Carol shakes her head and stifles her own laughter. They walk through a small hallway with a notice board up on one side. Nothing caught their attention and they continue up the stairs to the second floor where Hadi waited for them. "Hey, Hadi. How's the car."

"Shitty, thanks for asking. Alexis, need any help with that?"

"Nah, I got it," she groans and jumps a strap back over her shoulder.

"Okay," Hadi turns back and walks down the open hallway, Carol and Alexis following behind. The keys dangle from the door as Hadi shoves it open. Hadi pulls the keys out and, when he is in his apartment, drops them into a basket on the countertop. "Sorry, it's a little messy."

"That's alright, a hundred times better than the stained bedspreads," comments Alexis, dropping her things in front of an armchair. "Where is the projector?"

"Oh, it's in my office, I'll get it in a bit," Hadi pulls a pack of soda from his fridge and drops them on top of the coffee table across from the sofa. "Anything wrong Carol?" He noticed her shoveling her hands into her pocket.

"Fuck, I forgot my phone in the car. You two can set up the equipment, I got to get it incase my sister calls me." She's already out the door. "I'll knock three times when I get back!"

"Alright," Hadi shouts through the door.

"Shit, why did I forget it in the car. It was right there," she bounces her way down the stairs and slows at the bottom, passing a woman standing at the notice board. All she can see at the top is in bold 'missing', she thinks nothing of it. Then the woman turns and starts walking, excusing herself past Carol. The missing poster shows a picture of an older man smiling with a young daughter, along the side reading; age 37, eyes green, hair brown, height 5'8", missing since November 1. One week ago. "Hey! Miss!" Carol jogs up to the woman holding the missing persons papers. "Can I see one of those?"

"Yeah, sure," she hands one over to Carol. "Have you seen him?"

"No, I haven't, but I think someone I know saw him somewhere. Are you a relative?" Carol folds the paper twice and sticks it on her back pocket.

"No, I'm a friend with his ex-wife. He wasn't acting right the week before he went missing, she thinks he's gone back into relapse."

"Oh... is there a number I can call her at?"

The woman taps at the bottom of another flyer. "Her number is on the bottom there, only call her if you know anything for sure. She doesn't want more calls than what she normally takes."

"Alright, and to call you, so I won't clog up her line. I might have questions later and don't want to bug her."The woman taps at the first number.

"Mine is right there, thank you so much for helping."

"No problem, I'll call if anything comes up." The woman continues down the hallway and out of the apartment complex, getting into her car on the far side of the parking lot. Carol wiggles around to her car and gets her phone out of the cup holder, picking out some garbage as well to dump off in Hadi's trash. On the way back to Hadi's apartment she pulls out the paper again and reads it out to herself. "Missing. Reward. Victor T. Lewis. Yadayada age, eyes, hair, height. Missing since November 1st. Last seen in his apartment at 12th and Thompson. That's not very far off from here." She folds it back up and knocks on the apartment, listening to Alexis groaning in frustration at the other side and open the door for her.

"Welcome back, you can help us with this hell," Alexis motions over to the wad of cables laying on the floor and the projector sitting on the coffee table. Carol closes the door while Alexis drags herself back over to the wires and plays around with the connections between the projector and her cameras. Carol pulls a soda from the packs and sits by her backpack on the couch.

"Where's Hadi?" Carol slips the Missing paper out of her back pocket and digs inside her backpack, her binder coming out first.

"Toilet," Alexis finds the right way to connect one of the video cameras to the projector and sits back relieved, adding a little fist pump to her imaginary celebration – then stares at her other video camera. She ignores the other one, turns on the projector, and sees the paper Carol is staring at. "What'cha got?"

"Missing paper, a woman put one on the notice board we passed on the way here."

"Did she make you take it?"

"No, I asked for it you tit, here." Carol slides the paper across the coffee table to Alexis.

Alexis takes the paper, makes sure the projector is on, then sits back against the armchair to read it. The silence gets broken by Hadi knocking on the bathroom door. "Toilet paper is one of the bottom cupboards, Carol." Carol groans and gets up and enters the kitchen and searches for the toilet paper. When she finally finds one of the two rolls left, she knocks on the bathroom door and throws the roll in to him.

"Read it all?"

"Yeah, just going through it again. Who was passing these out?"

"Friend of his ex-wife, she has her number on their and his ex-wife's number on there," Carol sits back on the couch and opens her binder, unclipping a few from the bindings.

"So a guy is missing, what of it?" Alexis slides the paper back over to Carol and welcomes Hadi back into the room while he picks a soda from his counter. "Got it connected, is there any other wires for it?"

"Nah, but I haven't used it for a while, might need to be configured again." Hadi falls back onto the couch and pops the soda open. Alexis gives out a huff and gets back to the projector, looking it over for the menu and settings buttons, the opposite wall where the projector's light hit reading 'no input detected'. While she works Carol going back over the information in her binder, Hadi picking the missing person paper from the coffee table. "What's this?"

"Missing person paper, Carol brought it in," mumbles Alexis, tapping at the projector's buttons. Carol looks up and from Alexis to Hadi the back to her binder. Hadi begins reading the paper with his head in his right hand; a few minutes pass before he places it back down.

"My neighbor and I were talking yesterday - it started with asking if I wanted to help him with something – but we got to just chatting, crazy work stuff, and he brings up that one of his coworkers hasn't been to work for a week. The last time he saw him was in the backroom and completely out of his mind, and he suggested to his coworker that he should just go home." Hadi puts his soda down, Carol slides the papers she pulled from her binder into the back and closes it. "But he never showed up to work, and there was no sick calls from him either. He remembers that the guy was out of it for that entire week, drinking coffee all the time, came in with a coffee he was going to drink and one that went to the trash can. This guy, his coworker, he says would normally show up on time and was active enough every day."

"Alexis, remember the user's SN from last week?"

"Which one?" Alexis clicks the projector on and off.

"The one that was planning a visit to the abandoned mall in Findlay."

Alexis stares at the ground for a bit, snapping her fingers as her mind turns itself over, then she goes to her laptop. "VTLewis? He's the one that got a notice about him. He hasn't followed up on his visit?"

"Yeah, I think. You were talking about it in the car," Carol moves beside Alexis as she digs her laptop out of the backpack and tap it back on.

"So VTLewis has not come back on in a week. The neighbor's coworker hasn't shown up for a week. And this guy Victor has been missing for a week? Could they be the same person?" Alexis taps about on her computer and pushes the wires trailing off the projector beneath the coffee table. "One hell of a coincidence if it is," she shakes her head and laughs a little to herself.

"I think we should tell the friend and his ex-wife, they should at least know," Carol says while picking the paper up and bringing a red pen to it, noting the top number as the friend and the bottom one as the ex-wife. "And we should be sure before saying anything."

"Right," Alexis brings up the account profile of VTLewis. "Alright, should I read it aloud?"

"Yes," answer both Hadi and Carol.

"Okay, give me a moment," she gets up and grabs a soda from Hadi's counter, breaking the seal as she sits down. "Ah, right, VTLewis. He's got around 120 posts, age 37. Like the missing man. A member for two years, joined in January 2011, local time is 8:32 pm – ours. Last active November 1 at 3:24pm. Hm. So far like the missing guy. He's got a personal blog. Should I?"

"Later, what about his last few posts?"

Alexis scrolls among the page for the 'show posts' link, and clicks it. "The last posts are all within his own posts or in the tech sub-forum. The last unaltered comment was on his mall plan thread, and..."

"What?"

"All it says is 'I am having a hard time getting sleep this past week, I got a coffee in hand all the time.'" Alexis looks up to Hadi.

"Like the neighbor's co-worker," he breaths, then picks up the flier again.

"'Soon I'll be there and filming it.' That is the last post he made. What do you two think?" She slides the laptop's top down a bit and looks among them, Carol with her hand on her chin and Hadi looking back over the flier. "Should I see what his personal page says?" Carol nods, Alexis slides the laptop back open and clicks the link, only to groan a second later. "It's inactive, last time it was edited or posted on was in August."

"Look, maybe he isn't the missing guy."

"Carol's right, but I'm going to talk to my neighbor tomorrow – he's out for the night – and see if he's willing to speak to either of them – if the first names are the same at least." He sets the paper back down and turns to both of them. "If they are reaching out to the police, there'd be more for them to go off of."

"Right, don't want to make a false trail." Alexis backs off the page and goes down the latest posts made by VTLewis. "Around that week he started having trouble getting sleep it looks like, nothing indicating that he is the same guy though," and Alexis shuts her laptop completely. "Hadi can handle the talking, right?"

"Yeah, sure. Carol do you want to copy the information down somewhere?"

"Of course," she takes the paper from Hadi's hand and brings it beside her binder, opening it to a blank page and copying it over. "Do you remember the name of your neighbor?"

"You could always check the mail boxes down in the hall; it's across from the bulletin board." Carol just keeps copying the missing person flier over to another paper, "are either of you hungry? I could go for pizza." Carol holds a hand up and teeters it back and forth.

"I'm in," speaks Alexis, finally getting the projector to copy over one of the video cameras. "does any place nearby sell white pizza?"

"No, doubt any got hand-tossed."

"Well shit, can you call up a place then?"

"First, I'm only going to order one, so we need to agree on two topping sides."

"Get half extreme meat and the other half less extreme," speaks Carol.

"Would you mind if it has no pork or bacon?"

"No, of course not, Hadi. Just as long as it has no chicken on it." Carol double checks over what she had written so far. "Do you got any celery here? I know Alexis wants some wings as well with her pizza."

"Come off it Carol, don't bring it up."

"Fine, fine."

"I wouldn't mind if half was just cheese, or if it had four-cheese or whatever."

"Alright, so half topping half cheese, four cheese?" Hadi grabs his phone from its charger port. "I know a good local place, they got a great assortment of toppings. Have either of you had onion or peppers on your pizzas?" They both shake their head and give him a confused look, almost asking 'what?'. "Well this local place has them as an options, interested in trying them?"

"Sure, wouldn't hurt to try new things," Carol slides the paper back over to Hadi and slips her own papers back into her binder. "What about you Alexis?"

"What's the harm in it; Is one of the peppers they got jalapeno? If yes, completely for it." Alexis brings the video gallery up on the projector and starts flipping through them, hoping that they are all there from last week. Hadi walks into another room to order their pizza, speaking Arabic to the pizzeria. Carol goes over the information pertaining to their planned trip to Sandusky and Port Clinton, but the missing person flier keeps pulling her attention away.

When the pizza arrives they went on into their meeting, going through every recording they had made on their trip to Detroit. They stuff themselves with pizza and soda throughout, laying out on the floor and couch as they laugh at the recordings, making a vote after each to either remove them completely or watch them again – just to be sure. Around midnight they wrap up their meeting, Hadi tucking the flier beneath his phone and writing a note to himself in the morning. Carol drives Alexis home, carrying Alexis things into her dorm room and bidding her a good night, telling her to call in the morning about the videos.
Chapter Seven

Everything is silent when I open my eyes.

The smell of roast smoke fills the air, the fire is gone completely and everything is back to darkness. The people aren't here anymore, I can't hear them talking or coughing. When I try to push up my arm crumbles and I can barely breathe, holding my chest in the other hand and they are soaked again in blood. I wish there was no more blood – I'm completely sick of it. Slowly the pain goes away and I can put pressure on it without a problem. But my eyes adjust to the shadows with the faint glow coming from the stairway. I'm on bloody cardboard, where my hand pushes away is on a blanket thrown to its side, almost folded over. I face the stairs in the distance so the other beds and fire are behind me. I want to thank them, so I turn.

A girl lays over the fire.

Her stomach is pulled out and her arms bent in ugly broken shapes beneath her. She's looking at me and swallowing, crying – she's still alive. Not so far away is another person – he's missing an arm and his chest is heaving. Two others lie behind a cardboard box, their heads completely smashed – but their mouths are moving, coughing and spitting blood.

They should all be dead, why are they like me, why are they still breathing? The look on the girl's face, the one laying over the fire pit is staring at me. Her face is twisted in fright, and she twitches when I push away. Struggling to my feet only makes it worse, she is struggling to move her legs, and they are scratched up behind the knees.

I wish I could throw up.

Blood just drips from my nose and mouth, my throat refuses to work and I hold it. It's cut in the center and I feel blood bubbles bursting against my hand. I probe deeper, this can't be here, why am I still able to breathe?

Fingers wiggle in my throat and I gag, pulling them out quicker doesn't make it any better and I double over holding it, cradling it. Oh god, why have I done. These people don't deserve this, they were going to help me. They didn't need to die.

I can only move away from the camp against the wall, leaning against it as I still frantically try to breathe, the bubbles rupturing within my chest, outside the slit in my throat, within my own mouth that I spit the blood out again, more blood on the walls. I should've run out of blood a long time ago, why is there still blood coming from me? I can only crawl against the walls, listening to the awful silence and the echoes of my own movement. I don't remember time, I just move.

One step, coughing, spitting, rolling along the wall, take the second step, and my stomach twists into a knot. It never ends, only once did I come across a corner. This place is too big, I'll never get out of here. Light comes through to the stairs after what feels like several hours, bleeding soft blue light into the darkness. I long ago stopped caring for those stairs, but I look to them. Soft light spilt into the darkness, flashlights stared down them and bounced as they grew.

More people, maybe they can help, maybe they can finally kill me. I hope for the later.

I only watch as they speak amongst each other, the beams of lights flash from the floor to another person. They found my trail of blood, thank god.

One of them holds up a thick object, holding with both his hands, bumping one of them forward with the butt of it. They are talking about something, that's all I can tell for sure through the constant loud 'sssh's that break their footsteps. They are slow to follow, taking each new step with whatever care they decided to take. One eventually follows the trail at his own pace and runs ahead. They get to the homeless person camp and they only stand around. One of them makes a gesture to the girl still where the fire once sat, and another walks up to her and kneels down. Of course he's surprised, that she is still breathing, and is probably asking him for help – but he only shoots her in the head and they wait in silence – and they move back when she moves her head into the floor.

They are quick now, following the blood leading against the walls and each stumble blood pile. One of them, the one that shot the girl, finds me first. "It's over here guys!" The others run up, the one with the shotgun aiming it hard at me, another with a flashlight "What the fuck did you do to those people, you fucking monster." I don't shield my eyes.

"I-I didn't..." I whisper before I hack up more bubbles of blood, even more leaking down my throat. The five of them still stand there, look at each other and pull their guns.

"Tell us. Now, you sick son of a bitch," the leader shouts and shakes his pistol, "or I swear to god I will blow your brains out.

"I didn't," I whisper again, "haven't," that's all I can manage before I collapse again and heave, spiting blood onto the concrete. The leader steps closer, the buckles of his pants snapping together.

"Fucking tell us or I will blow your sick ass brains out, I swear to god, if you ate any of them, I will kill your family too." He has the gun against my head, his finger on the trigger.

"D...do," I barely breathe out before I cough out bubbles of blood again.

"Do? You sick fucker," he pulls the trigger.

I feel my head burst open, the bullet twisting through my skull, hitting the concrete behind me. I heard the shot ring out the first time and echo in the darkness and through the bones of the other four. But I still stare at them, they stare at me, and blood pours like a fountain down my jaw and neck.

The others start shooting too. They shred me.

Chunks are torn away from bones, bones that shatter a little more with each contact, each contact breaking holes into organs. I feel every bullet that passes through me, every one that strikes the concrete and casts concrete up into the bloody holes, every bullet that is within my head, my chest, my arms, and legs.

The boy who holds the shotgun in both hands, hardly able to control each shot, we made eye contact over and over. Each blast tore through my face, tore my eyes into ribbons and I felt their liquid fall with the blood and fly with every strike.

I heard the crackling of my bones and the sharp stab when they broke apart in my head, the crackle of gunfire shattering my eardrums and ringing through the garage – even the boys were affected by the barrage of sound. They stop when it's too much for them, or when they are out of rounds.

By then I'm lying on the floor, still choking, blood bubbling through the holes in my head, the cuts among my neck, and the groves hollowing out my chest. A complete mess of bones, bile, blood, and flesh. They stood looking at each other, trying to speak but motioning to each other to hold on, slapping at their eats and shaking their heads.

Why aren't I dead yet.

"Did that do it?" yells the leader, tugging his shirt back and stuffing his gun within the band of his pants. "Think its fucking dead now, Chip?" The kid from before, one of two that witness my first death, he was the one holding the shotgun. He could only stare at the sockets my eyes reshaped in, his face shaded in the shadows a ghost white.

"I'm," he swallows, handing the shotgun over to another of them. "I'm not sure, Ko, he's staring at me." Damn fucking right, you where there when I first died. Why did you run.

"Are you fucking – alright, I'll shoot them again," He steps forward and pops one, and then the other. "Fucking there, now do you think he is fucking dead yet?" No, I can still hear you douche bag.

"No, last time he just got back up and started pleading for help."

"How in the fuck did that happen, dick cheese," a gun clicks somewhere.

"I don't fucking know! He got shot, crawled a bit, then rolled over and died."

"Well was anyone with you?" Fucker named K shot me.

"No, I fucking told you that," its Chip, his voice is squeaking.

"Detroit," the leader.

"Chip, I saw you and K running the fuck outta here earlier," the third person, a deep voice. Why won't they go away.

"And somehow, K ends up moving away two months early than expected." The leader.

"He was watching from outside! The fucking dude probably waltz the fuck in there before me," the squeaking voice of chip. Someone is taking steps. Just fucking shoot me again.

"Chip, come the fuck on, do you expect me to fucking believe you when we know you fight your way out of a fucking paper goddamn bag," the leader is walking, his shoes at my head, I hear the blood splashing. "If you get rid of this fucking thing," a foot stomps against my face and pushes down hard. "Then you are free to fucking go and keep on your dick sucking life." I'm so tired of all the pain

"Hold on a second," Chip, "when the fuck did I start sucking dick, because I would've remembered it." Please just let it end.

"You fucking sold ZD out as a fucking dealer! Now were the fuck am I going to get my shit, dickbag?" The leader steps off my head. "Fuck it, Detroit," the leader snaps his fingers, another gunshot and a body falls flat. He's lucky. "That's fucking better. Now," he stomps on blood, "what the fuck are we going to do with this bag of shit?" He kicks what is left of my legs.

"How about we burn it?" I wish I were dead.

I don't want to open my eyes.

There is blood dripping down, I am either sitting or lying on something. I can still feel the hole in my chest, the twisted ankle, the fractured arm, the bullets lodged everywhere in me. They are waiting, just waiting for me to rise again and walk.

When I open my eyes, they are.

They're all on the floor in pieces save for the one with a hole in the back of his head. Four of them, like the others, are still breathing, and they are staring at me, just like what the girl had did earlier, watching me, fearing me, wishing themselves to be dead.

Again, through the pain that would easily kill anyone else, I rise again and stumble, limp past the bodies. One lies in two halves, his legs laying across his face. Another is doubled over, backwards, his arms broken. A third lies staring up, away from the cuts breaking his chest open. The fourth is nearly split, legs folded across his chest. They are struggling to breathe, blood spilling infinitely from their bodies, blood bubbling up their throats, vomit covering their mouths and the area around them.

Just like me.

So very much like me.

The only one spared is the boy with a bullet in his head, crumpled on the floor and blood already drying on his shirt and back. I have an urge, that it should be him not me, he didn't help me. But, whatever the fuck I am, no one deserves it, no one else should die. And I keep walking along the walls, vomiting bullets and spitting blood while wounds never stop spilling. The bloody path of each step deepens with every small step I make. I want to die.
Chapter Eight

In her car, alone in the dark visitors parking lot of the college Alexis started in last year, Carol pulls her binder with the copied information back out and throws her backpack in the back and the binder into the passenger seat. She goes over it once, then starts her car, rolling out of the parking lot and onto the main road. She stops at a burger joint, swallowing down the cheapest burger while she reads over it a couple more times, marking it with a red pen. Her backpack sits beside her open, the binder peaking out and the loose papers ruffled. At around eleven she finally gets back home, her dog jumping and scratching at the door when the headlights flash over the living room window.

She gathers her things, carries them inside, and tosses her backpack onto the couch, stumbling into the kitchen. Her black and brown dog follows after her, bouncing at the back of her feet. "Not now Tilly," Carol grumbles as she digs into the breadbox, dragging a bag of white bread out and stuffing three pieces into her mouth and throws one for Tilly.

On her way past the living room Carol locks the front door and pulls herself into her bedroom, Tilly following just behind and walks past as the door is held open for her. Not missing a beat, Carol drops down onto her bed and throws the covers back over her. Tilly attempts to jump up, succeeding the second time to a worn out Carol.

The dog walks up and down the bed twice before laying out beside Carol, her head lying almost on top of Carol's. "Tilly, only for tonight," Carol reaches up and pats her dog before curling into her sheets, falling asleep with Tilly breathing into her ear.

Carol leaves her house at 12:30 that Sunday, letting Tilly watch the house and tossing her backpack into her car again. She gets a bag of cheap fast food before she rides the highway to Findlay, letting her radio roar rock and metal all the way down. There she drives around aimlessly, letting a GPS app keep track of her location and where she has already been.

Around 3:14 she pulls into a parking lot. "Where the fuck could it be," muttered Carol, stuffing a cold half eaten hamburger into her mouth. She sits there fiddling with her phone until it beeps. "Hello?"

"Carol, I went and told my neighbor about the missing guy. They're the same person."

"Oh shit, really?" Carol drops the wrapper into the paper bag. "Have you told Alexis?"

"She has class right now, but I can call her later."

"Ah, alright, can you call me back after you talked to her? Or have her call me."

"One question though; are you in Findlay now?"

"Uh, no." Carol looks into the paper bag and pulls a few fries out of the bottom. "Why?"

"Carol, don't tell me this is one of your hunches again."

"No, for serious, this dude could be in serious trouble! I can feel it."

"You feel it about a lot of," Hadi cuts himself off and sighs away from the phone. "Just promise me you won't go anywhere near the thing if you do find it. Research before action."

"A careless Urbex is a helpless Urbex. I'll see you later," Carol cancels the call and crumples up the paper bag, throwing it down at the floor of the passenger seat. When she sets the GPS app on again and restores the previous trail, and starts the car up again. "How can a mall be so hard to spot," she mutters to herself, turning off onto another main road and following it west along Tiffin Ave. An hour passes before she pulls off into another parking lot, stepping out and walking around her car twice before getting back into the driver seat, her feet sitting outside the car. She watches the traffic pass, shoving her nose into the artificial fuzz around her hood. Her distant stare is broken as a group of teenagers walk down the sidewalk, talking among themselves.

"Excuse me," Carol starts, closing her car door and walking over to them. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

"Who are you?" One girl stares Carol up and down, "you got some ugly clothing."

"Never mind that," Carol keeps herself from commenting on the girl's own coat. "Is there an abandoned mall anywhere around Findlay? I've sort've been looking around for it for the past few hours."

The teenagers, who all around had similar coats, look to each other. The first girl answers again, "Are you talking about The Devil's Vortex?" her face is twisted into general concern, the teenagers behind her whispering. "I wouldn't go there if I were you, the White Rats like calling that place their 'zone'. They don't like anyone else coming in to their turf."

"Do you know where it is located? I'm not planning on going anywhere near it at this point." Carol lets another person not part of the group walk past.

The lead girl looks to one of the younger boys, he barely stands 5'4" "Toad, you know where it is right?"

"Yeah," groans the boy, the scarf covering his nose and the bottom half of his face. "But there ain't no way to tell unless I got a little... compensation." He rubs two fingers together, one of the other boys laughing.

"Jacob would you knock that shit off, honesty," scoffs the other girl in the group. "I know where it is – well the general area. It is on the north-west side, a short way off the main roads. Just look for the White Rat." The second girl in the group looks to the first and nods, then they walk off, letting Carol stand alone in the middle of the sidewalk.

"North-west side, huh?" She starts her car again and drives straight for the far top side of Findlay, slowing her car whenever possible to look for a White Rat spray painted on a fence or building. The first of a long chain of rats sits within a thin alley, Carol catching a glimpse of it while driving through an intersection. Following white rats crawling on the walls, sitting with spray cans beneath their paws and grins on their cartoony faces. As she keeps following the white rats painted on walls, she starts seeing few teens in white hoodies wearing coats, bundling themselves up an staring down at the snow as she passed them.

When she made a full pass around the outer rims of the north-west corner, she drives for the center, still looking for White Rats and the tell-tale white hoodie-teens walking along the side walk and standing in store-fronts and back alleys. Off from the central road, after she takes a turn back to the outer rims, Carol drives two blocks from a tall building disconnected to the smaller shops and chain stores, buildings with dilapidated structures boarding the rim between the massive structure and the surrounding roads.

Turning in to a side street and then another, Carol drives up besides a fence between the road and the building. A line of graffiti borders the bottom and snow piles on the parking lot and on the plants dead besides the concrete.

Carol calls Hadi. "Hey, yeah, Hadi, I found it."

"What?"

"I found the mall VTLewis was talking about I think. It has a whole line of graffiti at the bottom of it and it doesn't look like the parking lot has been cleared off for about a month. Lots of signs pointing to it being the one." Carol drives her car around the perimeter of the building and its parking lot, looking for another White Rat to mark it. "I got some information that a small gang operation likes to use it as a sort of base camp."

"Who told you this?"

"A couple of kids, they know this place a lot better than any of us. They also called it the 'Devil's Vortex', so there is at least some public knowledge or notoriety about the place."

"Well, fair enough, but it's not a lot to go on."

"Yeah, I know, but at least we know where this place is now."

"True – but don't get any ideas that you can figure anything out yet."

"Yeah, yeah, it won't be another Erie incident." Carol smiles and laughs at herself, remembering Hadi having to bail her out of jail for trespassing. "I just need to drive around it a little while and then I'll head back home, I need to take Tilly out for a walk anyway and visit my parents."

"Alright, talk to you again later." This time Hadi closes the call and Carol drops it into the cup holder. She rounds the far side of the second entrance and watches a pair of people drag a bay door open then close – she can hear it slam from across the parking lot. Behind the wall of what could've been a large chain store sits a White Rat, sneering and holding down a spray can. Not too far from it, completely painted black with red words scribbled on it, is a maintenance door. "So, that bay door is where people get in and out... good to know."

Her car pulls into the snow covered lot of the mall, makes a U-turn, and she drives straight out, giving the building a second glance before it vanishes from her sight. Her radio roars again to a rock station and she remembers the two walking into the building; but her concentration is broken by a wall of missing persons posters on the side of a coffee house. Five faces stare at her as she drives by, and she keeps driving onto the highway and out of Findlay.
Chapter Nine

How long have I been walking along these walls?

Every step heaves me deeper into the dark, taking me around from the dying camp to the dying teenagers. Their eyes, always watching and waiting, they can barely speak but I hear them whispering for death. They plead to me each time I come around, sobbing in strained tones.

Kill us, please, everything hurts.

They are too much like me – I walk past them again.

All of them whisper to me, all except the decomposing Chip with a hole in the back of his head. Flies hover around the bent over bloat that he became, completely solid and clothing stained dark from the off-white it once was. The flashlights went out a long time ago, still sitting among their bodies.

The shadow of their spilt blood covers the ground, heaving with each sudden choke or squirt of blood. Something could be taking form, both areas covered in blood within a perfect circle – but how can I trust my eyes anymore? People, torn to shreds, bloody and torn, they are still breathing, sobbing.

Why isn't anyone else like Chip?

I stumble around from one mass murder to the other, leading a dark trail away from the side walls and into what once was a camp of homeless, or runaways I begin to figure. The young woman, her body strung over ashes and her stomach completely stripped, she's the first one I see the face of. A bullet hole leaks down her strung face, her lips whispering for some peace – death.

A chair still sits among the spilt blood, not far from the young girl.

It is light enough to pick up, and I use it as a crutch to wander back to her.

Standing at her side, almost on top of her torn out intestines and liver, I take the chair between two hands and stare at her. She's still whispering. "Please don't, please," in the state she's in, why would she want to stay alive?

I swing down at her face. Lifting it back over my head, as blood drips down from the seat, I swing it again, and again, and again. She's still crying, pleading for me to stop. Stop, she cries, and I swing the chair down, there's a crack. I pull it back, blood drips down, and she's still crying, asking for me to stop. Stop. Crack. Lift. Again and again, I bludgeon her. My eyes stay closed, listening for each plea come from her mouth, and again I swing down. Each cry leads to the crunching of her head, the crunching of her mangled arms, and the crunching of each hope that there is some way to end this.

It only stops when my arms give out.

I put it back on the floor behind me and sit on it, feeling my stomach twist into a knot and jerk. She's still alive – crying, pleading, bleeding. Oh god what have I done.

Her face is completely smashed, her teeth lay scattered on the floor.

The blood in her face pulses through skin turned black and blue before dripping free in the massive gashes in her forehead and cheek. Clumps of her hair and skull lay off to the side, swimming. A second clutch in my stomach makes me hold it, double over, and feel the rush of blood and bullet shells coming back up. The copper taste stings what remains of my tongue and the bullets clang against my teeth.

She's still fucking sobbing, pleading for life and death – in the same breath.

I have to get up and walk away, holding my stomach and my face. Why did I try to kill her, Why did I not try to help her. Oh god, someone, help me, help them.

Stumbling through the darkness I pull at my face, dig my fingers down deep into the hole perched on my chest. It's tight, I feel the heaving breaths and the blood bubbling past my fingers, and I loop a finger into my lung and pull.

Pain surges through and I collapse, coughing and gagging on the rushing blood. Spasms force me on my back, blood pooling in the back of my mouth. I put another finger into my lung, one from the other hand, and try to pull it open. Another spasm of pain, choking on blood, forced to pull them out. Blood from the pool in my lung that was once trapped by intruding fingers pours out as I roll over, holding my arms against the floor and my head upon them.

Heaving, gasping, I sit there.

I'm a fucking disgusting mess.

A huge fucking mess of blood and bile.

A biohazard, a goddamn toxic dump.

Oh god, please let all of this end.

In the distance I hear a man shouting, two of them, and a gunshot, a scream.

It's not my fucking problem. It's not my problem.

And I still drag myself up against a pillar, pulling myself over to the dim light coming through the staircase. I hear more sobbing, someone crying for help, another person telling the crier to shut the fuck up. Each step up the stairs takes all the strength I have, and then some. The sobbing fades out but the soft pleading remains, a voice holding thick dominance still remains. At the top of the stairs my knees strain to stay upright, but they continue to work me around the glass fencing and through the mall, towards the crying and the shouting. Each sickening bloody step brings me closer to storefront mostly blocked with wood boards and graffiti, one pointing to the broken window and into what would be an empty store.

My first step lands into a pool of blood, the second hit a body, and the third stood on top of the dead man. The crying and the shouting was deeper in the skeleton of a store, a light beaming out of another room. I could hear someone whimpering, crying 'please', 'stop', over and over.

"Shut the fuck up!" shouted the voice of a man, and the first person, a guy, screamed.

"You're hurting me," the guy cried, I stumble closer to the door.

"Fuck yeah I am," the older sounding man yells, the sick sound of an object smacking skin. "I ain't gonna stop until you tell me where in the fuck has Tyler gone? The fucking shit hasn't come back and he owes me money!"

Another smack. "I told you I don't fucking know! He packed up and got out of town. That's all I know. I swear!"

Rounding the corner and taking a step into the beam of the flashlight on the floor, I watch as the larger guy hits the younger one with a pipe and drops it back onto the floor. In the next step I kick the flashlight across the room, hitting a jar in the darkness. For an instance I can see the scared and bloody face of the teenager sitting against a wall.

"Who the fuck are you," the man picks up the pipe and takes a step forward before he turns on his small light. When the light comes on, he freezes and I hear a strangled sound come from his throat. "What in the fuck," he whispers, dropping the light onto the floor and taking his pipe in both hands. "Oh god what the fuck," his voice is trembling.

I force myself to take a step forward and blood drips from my mouth, "Ge-" I force out.

He takes a step back, the pipe held out before him. "Get the fuck away!"

"Out-" I choke and cough.

"Get," I take a step, spit out blood.

The fucking guy won't move, he's still holding the pipe.

"Out," bubbles make their way across the side of my neck.

Why the fuck is he still standing there.

"Ge-" he slams me in the head. I wish I were dead.

Pain just pulses from the impact it made to the side of my head, hearing the crunching is a whole lot worse. I kneel down, holding it, spitting out the few teeth that were still attached – then a jolt of pain races through my arm and my body lunges forward, cutting him with jutting finger bones through his stomach. His screams and then his cries consume the darkness, cursing in whispers and trying to stand.

You stupid shit.

"I," my voice croaks, I spit out a tooth. "T-olddd," the pain in my head spikes and I fall onto my knees, hands against my face, "youuuu.' The guy sobs, trying to pull himself together in the realization his kidneys are gone, his liver torn, his intestines spread out over his knees.

"Oh god, please no," he's sobbing, choking, coughing.

The teenager is still sitting there, stunned silent staring at the sobbing heap of a man that, a few minutes ago, was knocking him around with a pipe. I don't move, except to spit the blood pooling behind my tongue. I don't want him to be like me – what if it spreads on contact; what then?

"G-goooo," I gargle, forcing myself up and away from the exit. "N..." bubbles roll down my chest, "ooooooow." He doesn't even attempt to move, only lays there staring. That silence rolls out so long that I have to collapse back on the floor, landing beside the pipe-guy. It's broken by the chuckling of the teenager.

"I, I can't move my legs," He's desperate "I'm going to fucking die here, aren't I?"

I struggle back onto my feet, croaking out, "s-oooooooooorry." He's still silent while I stumble out of the room, half of my face still feeling numb from the metal that kissed it. Musky light from outside the store exposed the body lying across the entrance, a knife gleaming from its post in the guy's side. They must've entered together, know each other somehow.

I pull the corpse by the hem of its shirt, dragging it over shards of glass and scattered papers stained with dust and dirt. He's heavy, I have to struggle to keep holding on. The teenager is still quiet inside the room – I hoped he passed.

Hope is something I shouldn't have.

The teenager is still there, still a beaten mess and away when I came near. Even with the dragging and constant dripping of blood, he still looks away, holding something around his neck. I break him from his soft whispering prayer he made below his own breath with the dropping of his friend's body, the knife handle smacking the floor. "K-kriss?" he's staring at the corpse, "Oh god, that fucker actually killed you." He can't help but look past me, to the crying, blubbering mass still trying to hold himself together. "You fucking piece of shit, I'll kill you!"

"T...too," bubbles crawl from my lung and throat, "laaaaaaaate."

"How the fuck is it too late? He's fucking still breathing isn't he!"

I pull the knife out of Kriss' corpse and drag myself over to the other man, then kneel.

"Please don't!" the guy cries as I stab him, then pull it back out. "No don't!" he cries again, and again, and again while he begs for an end. I know far too well the truth, there is no death here. The knife, soaked in blood and glinting in the light of the man's small chest mounted light, drops onto the floor and sings against the tile.

"T....tooo," I puke blood again, a tooth falls loose, "laaaaaate." I stumble back over to the teen, who took the corpse into his arms. "Noooo..." Oh god, why does my heart hurt so much. "Deea-thh."

"W-what? What do you mean 'no death' what kind of bullshit is that?" I begin to wander out, barely listening to the shouting teen telling me to come back – to explain to him – to let him know what the fuck is going on. I don't even know.

I'm a wandering corpse.

And they are the dying without death.
Chapter Ten

Her phone rings as she pulls into her driveway.

"Hello?"

"Is this Carol Tyler?" An older woman is on the other end of the line.

"You're talking to her," she pulls out her backpack and a few bag of groceries from the back seat. "What do'ya need?"

"Would you mind coming into the police station to answer a few questions?"

"Yes, but can I inquire what this is about?" Carol slams her car door and stuffs her shoulder into her head with the phone between them, then pulls her keys from a pocket and jiggles them into her front door, Tilly hops around and scratches at the door.

"I cannot answer that," Tilly's barking mutes the caller and Carol pushes the rottie back into the house, dropping her bags on the kitchen counter.

"Apologies, can you repeat that?"

"I can't answer your question. Are you home?"

"Yeah, just got back." Carol pushes canned foods into the cupboards, "but I can leave as soon as I am done. Which location do I need to be at?"

"The Toledo Police Department."

"Ah, alright. I'll be there soon. Do I need to sign in?"

"Yes. Thank you for your time." Carol stuffs her phone into her pocket. "Sorry Tilly, no walk today." The dog bounces around the room, barking again and laying half down on the floor. Carol shakes her head and ruffles Tilly's ears before she gathers her wallet from her backpack and heads right out the door, leaving Tilly alone to whine and paw at the door.

She drives straight to the police station with her music low. She finds a parking space along the side of the road and walks a block to the police station. She's sure it's about Victor Lewis, the missing man that might've disappeared into the abandoned Findlay mall – but there is no telling what it could exactly be about, and so she walks into the station barely confident, walking up to an empty booth.

"Carol Dally Taylor, I was called in for questioning a few minutes ago," the man at the front desk goes through the computer hidden from her sight.

"An officer will be out soon to take you in for questioning, just sit in one of those seats in the back to be called." Carol gives him a quick thanks and sits herself away from the entrance, opening a game app to play until she gets called.

"Carol Taylor?" She shoves her phone back into her pocket and gets off her chair.

"Here," and she walks over to the officer and follow him in. They walk past the main offices and into a small room at one side of it, and they sit.

The officer, an older woman, pulls a recording from the wall-end of the table. "Do you mind if this conversation is recorded?"

"No, I'm fine with it," Carol sits in seat with her hands holding each other.

"Alright," the officer sets up the recorder and places it between the both of them.

"Sunday, November 10th, 2013, 5:42. Officer Elrois of Toledo, Ohio questioning Carol Dally Taylor in the missing person case of Victor Thompson Lewis. Have you had any contact with Victor Lewis before he went missing?"

"No, I can't say I have. Until I saw his missing person flier Saturday evening and talked to his ex-wife's friend – who was one up on a notice board at my friend's apartment complex."

"Who is this friend of yours?"

"Hadi Omar, we've been good friends for a few years now. I was at his place with Alexis Machirna for a movie night."

"And Alexis?"

"Another good friend of mine, she's trans and moved up here for college a year ago."

"Have you either heard from or seen Victor Lewis after November first?"

"No, not exactly. Me and my friends think he might have an account on an internet forum that we go to a few times a week."

"What is the website, and what it is based around."

"It's UrbexNOH.com, U-R-B-E-X-N-O-H.com – it's short for Urban Exploration North Ohio. People make plans to go to either abandoned, dilapidated, or places that are in a state of decay. Pictures and Videos can be submitted as well."

"Do you remember the name you think Victor Lewis went under on the website?"

"Yeah, VTLewis – I strongly think it is him based on that and that the user hasn't been signed in for a week now and hadn't followed up after going somewhere he was planning."

"Do you know the location that he might have gone to?"

"An abandoned mall in Findlay, it's in the North-western corner. I was there a few hours ago just to check the place out from the street and then came back home. It took a while to find it, but a group of teens pointed me in the right direction."

"Hm. Hadi Omar said that you might've driven down there."

"Eeeh, yeah. The closet I got was barely into the parking lot so I could do a U-turn back out of the area to get back home."

"Is there any other information that you think could help the investigation, Ms Taylor?"

"Nothing else for sure besides what I've said. Have you talked with Hadi Omar?"

"Yes, Mr. Omar came in earlier on his own with a friend to give a statement about his potential lead – he said that you might also help in the investigation."

"Oh yeah, for sure! But, I got nothing to share anymore now.... Except. Does the department communicate with the Findlay police? I saw a few missing persons fliers on the way out."

"No, the department doesn't – but the task-force can look into it. Thanks for your time Ms. Taylor," Officer Elrois holds out her hand, Carol shakes it and starts to get up. "If anything else comes up, we may try to contact you – is that alright?"

"Yeah. That's fine with me, officer," Elrois holds the door open for Carol, "if I manage to learn anything else, should I call you or...?"

"Just ask for Sergeant Elrois, have a good day."

"You too," Carol slips right out the front door of the office and into the front lobby, worming around a couple people to get outside, where the streetlights shine lighter than the sky. "Shit," Carol bundles herself deep into her coat, zipping and buttoning it before shoving her hands into the front pockets, fiddling with her car keys. After walking the block to her car she starts driving home, bypassing the main streets for the quieter streets, letting her radio play into the dark interior of her car.

Letting out a sigh, she drifts off back onto the highway, back to Findlay.

She still remembers the tingling in the back of her neck when she looked at it, a deep presence that tugs at her skull for the time she was there. It's pull wasn't driving her back, she repeated as she drove through the low-traffic lane, it was the presence that felt heavy in her soul. Her phone ringed when she started pulling off the highway.

"Hello?" She drives through streets lit by sparse passing cars and streetlights.

"Got busy again?"

"Oh, Mom. Sorry about not coming over today. I... sorta got wrapped up in a couple things," she watches out for the White Rats trail, slowing her car in the quiet streets.

"That's alright Carol, I got wrapped up in my own things as well, oh god you wouldn't believe it." Her mother laughs in the background, children playing with each other in the background. A smile splits Carol's face.

"Hosting another sleepover?" her car slows and rounds into the parking lot of a pub.

"Yes, yes, the neighborhood kids don't got school tomorrow and they wanted to hang out together, give their parents a break." Her mother laughs in the background, she hushes a child loudly asking for another serving. "No Jamal, No more of the casserole until the morning. Carol, you think you can bring Tilly tomorrow? Tyler and the boys miss playing with her."

"Sure, sure. Should I bring up anything? Running short?"

"Nah, nah, honey. I can get any missing supplies when they run out. Good to speak with you dear," Carol starts to back her car out of the parking lot again.

"You too mom, I'll seeya tomorrow."

"Kiss kiss."

"Kiss kiss." The call closes and Carol follows the white rat again.

She drives deeper into the dark streets, letting the radio barely chirp as the car rolls through the snow and salted streets. Her stomach makes a horrid gurgle; she doesn't diverge from the cold streets into any of the fast-food places lining the cross-sections. In the distance the dark building is lined by the last lit clouds on the horizon, the sharp rectangle corners cutting against the sky. Fewer lights speckle the snow-bordered streets as she draws closer to the dark shape in the distance, very few people walk the streets, even less in the quiet neighborhood lining the streets around the mall. Stark blankets of snow encircle the mall and the dim poles speckled along the parking lot, Carol sweeps her sight across it while her car slows to a crawl, trying to scope out anything standing pronounced against the snow. Three times she circles around the entire structure, sizing up the basic external structure, memorizing the boards over the doors and the graffiti snaking around the ground level. On the beginning of the fourth pass around the building she watches a group of five people walk across the road and into the snow field – she stops her car and gets out.
Chapter Eleven

How do I keep people out?

I lean against a window to the outside, staring at the lamps sticking out of the increasing blanket of snow as faint light dots across the empty parking lot. For as long as it has been dark it's been the only view I let myself see, the sheets of snow and the distant lights of life. The sounds from outside are lost to this place, the rings of sirens and even the smallest sound of an engine mute behind the glass. Even a single car that made laps around the place didn't make a sound, no matter how close I press my bloody face to the window. Past the streets I can see people walk straight over the street and over the small concrete wall – please don't let them come, I don't want to see more dead like me.

A car, the one that ran laps a few time, stops short of where the group hopped over and they stop. Make them go away, person, this is not a place for them. A person gets out, all bundled in a dark coat with white fluff and walks over to the five standing beneath a light. They're probably talking, they don't move a lot, a few steps here and there and sideways glances. One pulls at another, a third pushes them apart, it's all I can see with their dark colors combining against the snow. The person that pulled a part of one of them moved closer to the driver of the circling car, and the driver points over in the direction of the entrance. God damnit, no. Two are already walking to it, only to stop, and turn back. The driver looks straight at the window, a line of white outlining the dark face. They are still talking, and the driver still stares straight to the window, one from the group looks back then away.

Oh no, three of them split and were walking to the other side of the building. There is no way I can keep them out from here, or anywhere. The other three just stand and talk; then they turn away and to the dark car and drive away. Only three came in. Still three too many.

A twist in my gut forces me to turn and walk, I must face the three that are going to enter. Hoping to scare them away won't work, they will only stay for longer trying to do whatever they wanted. I can't change that. I can only take away their death.

I take care going down the stairs, barely listening to the crackling of glass breaking beneath my feet. No sound of helpless screams or whimpering cries make their way through the darkness that surrounds me, not even a glint of moon and starlight illuminating the center covered in the stains of my blood or of the glass covering the ground. Everything is silent, painfully silent; it is the only death here – the death of sound.

The glare of flashlights is slow to come, even as I drag myself towards the dark wing. I go past the bloody and broken map, stepping over cans that rattle over glass, all in a daze covered in the constant pains and the deafening silence. All I can do is listen to voices grow into the darkness, the slamming of a heavy door echoes deeper than the slightest broken glass. They're calling for someone, two guys and a girl, with a single flashlight between them. The light cuts through the darkness and I can only watch them walk into the view, the light flashes between them and going to the ceiling.

I work up a voice inside myself, bubbles creep through my throat and the bullet hole again. "Goooo," it rumbles and echoes through the silence, the light strikes my face. "Ah-waaaaaaay." They don't move, I can't see anything past the gaze of the flashlight. "Leeee-" I can't work past that part before one of them screams and the crunch of glass cuts through the air. Whomever started running took the light with them, and a large person stood before me and struck me down. Something sharp digs itself through my side and drags down, the instant I begin gurgling on blood it plunges in again. I reach for the person sat above me, the one stabbing me, and another set of hands grab my wrist and pulls them away. They are scream at each other and I can't hear them through the pain and blood bubbling across my face. Again, and again, the object plunges in, dragging down – they are carving me, and they stab back in open wounds, over and over. Each strike bursts my stomach. Everything is burning; I'm going to throw up. I struggle, and struggle, the hands still hold me back. The knife plunges deeper into my stomach and cuts my organs apart, stirring them. I can hardly breathe.

"Why isn't this thing dying?" screams one of them. I can't concentrate on which.

Please stop, why can't I speak now?

"I don't know, keep stabbing it!" the one over my head yells. More, and more; I can feel blood pooling around me. "Jesus fucking Christ, he's bleeding all over the place!" No shit, fuck, I'm being stabbed, of course I'm bleeding. And the knife plunges up to my lungs and I gurgle more, I can only feel the pain. Please leave me alone. Stop, leave me, go away. My sight is gone and I can only feel each cut into me. If I don't move, they'll leave me, please fuck off and leave me alone. I dare not speak or move when the stabbing stops and my arms are free to smack hard against the tile flooring.

"Is it dead?" one of them says.

"Maybe? Should cut its neck to be sure."

"It's neck is already fucking cut, even before I stabbed it – what, 60 or so times?"

"Well good thing you started, it's your turn to burst the nut."

Someone kneels over me and they are quiet, and a sharp burst of pain rips through my chest. My heart, they stabbed me in the heart! I let out a scream, and the one that sank the knife deep in my chest falls back. I roll forward into a sitting position, the knife still deep within my chest and covered in bubbling blood from my throat. The one sitting on the ground, a woman, is the first one struck. My bloody broken hand hits her hard in the head, and I scramble over her, sit on her, and keep punching, and punching until the other person drags me down. The knife, I can't let them get the knife, the person wrestling with me can grab the knife!

The second person's face turns into a punching bag and I pull the knife from my chest and plunges it into his. He's screaming, the bruised girl behind me is screaming, and I'm not laughing – I'm crying. The pain is still there; the remains of stomach acid leaking through the multiple stab wounds across my chest and stomach. Heaving in every breath, blood bubbles through my throat and mouth. The guy beneath me, the knife plunges deep into his chest – he knows nothing. I pick the knife back up and stab him again and again and again, moving from his stomach to face, and I stay there. The woman behind me, I haven't heard her scream again.

Another pain goes through my lung, from the back. I can't help but gasp.

Turning away from the mangled man I sit upon, feeling his fluids soak deep into the tile and merge with my already spilt blood, I see the face of the woman, her face puffing and blood drips down and out her mouth. "I fucking stabbed you, piece of shit, not him." I take the knife and slash at her. She avoids it, of course, but a second slash cuts through her legs and she falls. The guy tries to pull me back when I crawl to the girl by holding my leg, but I kick him away and plunge the knife into the girl's legs over and over, and up into her chest. She's screaming, the guy is shouting, they both can barely move now – I realize this as I stood with the knife clutched within my hand.

"I..." I croak, a vocal tone repeats and bubbles burst, "tollllld" I begin to walk, following the way of the fleeing flashlight. "Yooooooooooooou," echoes through the building. The third person, a small man, hides in a closet. He's shriveling on the floor.

Only after he's whimpering on the floor do I realize.

He ran away. He didn't want to die.

And I still kill him.

All he had was a flashlight and he drops it when I stab him in the throat, turning a loud voice into a mere whisper.

Then I broke his legs.

What have I become; I'm killing when I can.

In a flash of memories I remember Sarah, the kids, the happy times. Yes, I breathe it in. That's what I want, that is why I am doing this. For them, to live to see them again. I walk back down the tile, past the two that reach for each other in the dark, sobbing each other's name, past the broken map, past the bloody fountain, and back up the stairs. Just to stare into the distant night. And wish.

Wish so much that I could just be back home.

The snow continues the fall uninterrupted, the street lamps still present their orange hue, and the buildings are still dark, the distance completely black. One day, I will go home.
Chapter Twelve

"Hey!" Carol starts as she plods through the snow to the group of five who stop beneath a pole light, one tapped at a flashlight constantly. "Can you answer a few questions?" The group turn to each other for a moment, the leader pulls the scarf from her face.

"Aren't you the woman from earlier that asked about the Devil's Vortex?"

Only now she remembers the group that pointed her here. "Yeah, I am, I've been circling the place for a little while now and stopped when I saw you walk in here. Anyway, what are you guys doing?"

"Why would you care?" speaks Toad, who steps in front of the group, flickering the flashlight at the snow. His dark hair speckled with snow.

"I'm trying to find someone, he was last here a week ago," as truthful as she can be.

Toad looks back to the two guys in the group, and shoves off a hand from one of the girls. "Jessica, don't start," he turns back to Carol. "We're also looking for someone, a friend. He said he needed to take care of some business here and he hasn't come back. His parents don't give a shit and neither do the police – so we're looking for him ourselves."

"When did he come here?" Carol cracks at her brain of the last time she was here, tries to remember the clothing of the two she saw enter the building earlier in the day.

"Earlier today," speaks one of the girls, Jessica, "he was at my house until three or so, then he left with another dude." Her face squeezes to the center. "He would've called by now, or even an hour after."

"I – I think I saw him enter the building," Carol fumbles with her memory, "two people were walking into one of the bay-door areas; I think one of them had a red jacket?"

The other girl whispers to Jessica, 'didn't Nick have a red jacket?' Jessica pushes the other girl away, her voice sways, "Shut up Kate! Anyone could have a red jacket!" Kate huffs and, being the taller of the two, grabs Jessica's scarf – one of the older boys pushes them apart.

"Hey, this ain't a time to fight, girls, we need to find Nick right?"

"Yeah, yeah," mumbles Jessica and turns away and pushing her hands into her jackets fold. Kate pushes past the guy that separated her and Jessica and walks right up to Carol – towering over her.

"You said two people entered the building?"

"Yeah - through a bay door at the side with the huge White Rat." Carol motions over to the far side of the building and two of them already start walking backwards and away. "Hold on a minute, can I ask you guys a few questions?"

"Can it be quick? We need to get to finding him with whatever time we have left."

"A week ago, was there any car here that just... sat around for a while"

The guy that pushed the two girls apart responds, "Yeah, I think there was. I was walking past here last week and there was a car parked on the sidewalk on this side of the building. Why?"

"The person I'm looking for could've come here in a car and – since he's been missing since then – could've left his car here." Carol looks past them and to the boarded doors and trails up to the straight cut into the sky. "Call it... instinct, but I think you shouldn't go in there – at least for now. It... it feels like it really fits its name as... what was it?"

"The Devi's Vortex," Toad answers.

"Yeah," Carol stares at the building, she swears inside her head that she sees a faint wisp coming from the building. "I am able to feel demonic presences – and it's strong. Like... it should be somewhere far from here."

"How in the hell would you know?" Toad flickers the flashlight.

"I think, the best way to describe it, is a sixth sense. I've sorta had it since I was young; it feels like – it's a really bad feeling coming from it, even when I'm this far away."

"I don't know Toad, I've been getting the same feeling, like I'm gonna be sick," says Jessica, looking at the building over her shoulder, and she turns back just as quick.

"God fucking damnit, Jessica! Don't you want to find Nick, and Chip?" Toad steps over to Jessica, exchanges glances with her, and starts to walk with Kate and the guy that hasn't said anything the entire time. "Fine, I'm find them both – and I'll tell Nick how scared you are to find him!" Jessica is shaking and the only remaining guy holds her around the side. Carol turns to both of them.

"Can you try to talk them out of it? The entire places reeks of deception and pure evil – its leaking so much negative energy out of it," Carol looks back to Toad, Kate, and the quiet guy walking towards the side of the building.

"Once Toad and Kate are set on something, there's nothing that'll knock them off-track, and just having Boss around gives him physical power," says the guy, then he turns back to Jessica, "come on Jess, we should get home, report Nick missing in the mornin."

"Can I ask you two one more question?"

"Sure, what?"

"How many people have gone missing recently? That you know of."

"Uh, lets see," the guy pulls his hand before him and starts counting off, "Chip, Ko – big name in the White Rats, Detroit – dude that came here from Detroit and hasn't given his name out."

"Yan," interjected Jessica, "and Nick, and Flop – he answered to Ko, and Jess – she ran away from home."

"And I haven't heard from K, but he left in a hurry last week, and Tea, he hung out with Jess and with the homeless. And I haven't seen them around here either."

"Eight people, plus... how every many homeless. Oh fuck. How many have been reported?" Carol remembers the five faces that looked at her on her way out earlier in the day.

"Only Chip, Yan, Jess, and Tea, and Jess has technically been missing for a month."

"Jesus Christ... I could take you two home in my car, if you don't mind," Carol bundles herself when a gust of wind blows pass them.

"Yeah, sure," breaks in Jessica, stomping through the snow to Carol's deep blue car.

Carol follows her with her eyes, then slowly starts for her car as well, her face scrunches inwards and a frown twists her face. "What's your name," Carol speaks to the currently nameless guy.

"John. Yours?"

"Carol," she pulls out her keys and unlocks the doors for Jessica. "Can you tell me anything about the Devil's Vortex, or the building itself?"

"It finished being constructed last year, and was open for about six months until it was closed – it's been that way ever since."

"Why was it closed? It can't be competition because I've only seen one other mall on this side of Findlay."

"I went to the place when it was still open. There wasn't a lot of businesses that rented out a space, and it was hardly making anything back if I remember." John takes to the passenger seat while Jessica crawls into the back and lays down. "It was that, and a pungent smell that got it completely shut down. It was – like a rotten smell that went through the whole place, and the water lines were broken if I remember correctly." Carol starts her car and keeps her radio low, her face still in a twist. "Jessica, do you remember what the place once was like?"

"No, John, I never came to this part of town before I switched schools," Jessica laid down on the back seat and stares at the back of the seat. "I just want to go home."

"Well I'll need to be pointed to the right way," starts Carol before she turns her car into low lit traffic streets and her stomach grumbles. "Are you two hungry? I can buy you both some food – McDonald's or something?"

"Sure," grumbles Jessica, "any sandwich with fries will do." Carol looks back for only a moment, then turns straight back to the road and drives straight ahead to the next block. She drives for a short while and turns into a drive-thu; ordering them fries and burgers, an extra order of fries for Jessica who requests it. They ate their food in the slight droning of the car radio, watching the snow settle upon the hood and the passing of time. Midnight soon sets in and Carol drives both of them home, exchanging numbers on her request. Carol takes her time driving back home, letting herself get lost among the side streets of dark southern Toledo.
Chapter Thirteen

Wandering around the building doesn't bring me any peace, but neither does going back around to check on their withering bodies laying in a ever expanding pool of blood. Their arms barely twitch, their eyes follow my approach and departure, and I can hear their sickly gasps for air and the spitting of their blood.

How could they still be alive?

In every pass I test them, to check if they are still alive. A single cut along the face is all I give them and I listen for them to make noise. None of them past the test – except for the teen with the beaten in face. He tries to talk, yells at me while the man that nearly killed him is tested. I can't go near him, he might be healing and still has a death.

What is this even; an illness, a disease, what if I'm the one spreading it?

I should stop walking, sit somewhere and wait – but I just can't. Who's going to check up on the short man in the back of the kitchen with broken arms and a torn out throat; or the pair lying out with their faces and chests covered in stabs; or the ones laid out in the basement garage in the complete darkness? There's only me.

The pair, the woman that stabbed me in the chest and the guy that held me down, they are the only two in the open part of the building, I can hear their sobs everywhere, cursing at me, threatening me, all while they can only lay in a pool of their blood and mine. They never stop, never. All night and all day they speak and shout, crying for help in between. What if someone from outside hears it? What if someone decides to come in and help, what if even more people come? They have to be put somewhere – somewhere quiet.

Approaching them has become easier, not movement wise but their wheezing and cursing doesn't faze me anymore. They are just like the rest, only worse in their first reaction against me. What if I was still alive and not like this? They wouldn't give a second guess, of course they wouldn't, they jumped me and their first reaction was to stab until death. They are dangerous, were dangerous, but I am not a victim to them, I am not a dead body.

They both recognize what I'm going to do with them, protesting and cursing. Over and over they say 'no!' and 'get the fuck off me!' and other phrases I just tune out. I must make them bleed, make them harmless so they won't hurt me or make it harder to move them.

I pull the knife out of the hole in my arm and proceed.

Kneeling down on the man's arm keeps it close so his hand can be worked over, stabbing the palm when he tries to struggle or even try to pull it away. Each little joint in his hand is severed, and each carving makes him yell, makes him curse, makes him cry. I am not done – in no way am I done. Once the fifteen little slices are made I cut across his wrist and pass on to his elbow and stab between the bones over and over until the hand just lies still, muscles twitching but there's no way to move. It's perfect.

I move onto his other hand and hold his wrist tight, slicing the knife through his hand until the five fingers start from the wrist. He's begging me to stop but I never will, and I slice through the bottom of each fingers and stab through his elbow. When I am done carving his arms he only lies on the floor sobbing, begging for death. The woman goes between cursing at me and trying to calm down the guy that can only stare above him. She's next – I want to try something else.

The guy didn't fight back as much as her; she tried to punch me. Knife still beats flesh and wrestle for control of her hand, slicing through to the bone and ripping the knife down again and again. A long gash goes from her palm to her armpit and that's where I slash deeper until it also can't move any more. I carve around her other arm, making a hoop around and around, stabbing the knife before each circle was cut out. She wails, she screams, the guy is trying to calm her and goes to kicking at me – the only limbs he has control over. It stops eventually and seize them, I cut his knees until they don't move – I do the same to the girl.

Cries and pleads slow when I take time to stand and stick the knife back into the hole on my arm. Their fresh blood goes from my hands to the stale stains on my pants, looking down at each of them while I am bent over, thinking. Where should I store them?

There are plenty open stores I can put them, or even shove them away for a while, no matter where I'd have to drag them over the broken glass. I take the man's arms first and start to pull. He's yelling at me, crying that his arms are tearing and that they'll fall off. If they do, I can just drag him by the legs, they are still cleanly attached, right?

I easily step over the glass and over the shards sticking up from the rim of the broken display window. He has more trouble, he shrieks and yells while I drag him very slowly, keeping myself always balanced. Glass shards scrape his back and the jagged pieces break off in his back – I only know this because he's screaming about it. Right into the darkness we both go, the girl shouting the guy's name – I refuse to listen, she'll be with him soon anyway; just not in death.

Why bother navigating around in the dark when they can't see, bumping around dusty furniture and through a door I had struggled to open. But here we go, right in the corner. He's begging to see the woman and wants to know if she's all right. I force bubbles through my throat, letting air pass into my lungs. "Soooon," escapes in a little hoarse sound, barely audible to even me, then I am gone, limping back to the girl.

"No, get away from me!" she screams, "oh god, help me."

"Nooooo," I manage to gurgle before puking blood on my way over to her, and when I stand in front of her motionless legs and bend down, "goooooood." And I grab her legs and start dragging her over. I can only hear her constant screaming, the man's wheezing unheard until I step past the broken display window and pull the woman over, dragging her over a large broken piece.

"Kate? Oh god, Kate where are you!" He's screaming.

"Help B!" the woman sobs and I yank her leg. The large shard breaks off into her back, she stops screaming after that. She's not dead; she's still breathing.

"Kate? Kate! I'll fucking kill you... fucking swamp zombie!" He's running out of insults. I arrive at the doorway and pull the woman in, letting her lay in front of the door. And I shut the door. The yelling cuts off when the door closes and the silence envelops the darkness again. Why was it like that? I don't know, but all is silent again, and I am glad.

Now I need to make my rounds of everyone else. Stepping out of the broken shop sets me in front of the circle of their blood, large enough to almost touch the opposing stores and with almost a perfect sphere. Never mind. There are people I need to test. The small man in another store is the first one I test, dragging the knife across his face, listening to the whimpering, waiting for the knife to go from one ear to the next. I feel his jaw shaking, liquid pour over them. What would it be like to burst an eye?

I let him breath when my 'test' is done, expecting me to leave him in the darkness again, but no, I will not leave. My left hand holds his jaw stiff and pushes his head against the storage unit he lays against. I hear him gulp.

"Wha, what are you doing," he breathes out, breathlessly, my hand is pushing against his throat. I trace the knife careful down the path it just made; dragging it across the bone and feeling with it the form of his face. He's breathing, heavy, whining, "no no no no no," he repeats while the knife draws around his forehead and nose, resting in a groove. There it is.

And press. Deeper. Feel the collapse and the gushing of fluids over hands, the trembling of a held jaw, ignore the scream and cry. Gorge the hole until there is no liquid left. My hand falls off his face and the knife sticks back into my arm. Off to the next to be tested, the ones down below, their cries echoing in the basement but above is the silence. I am glad.

The blood, where the pair knocked me down and stabbed me, where they were stabbed in return and dragged away, was dragging towards where I hid time in the darkness. How? It doesn't matter, it'd still be there when people come in – if they come in. I have to do something about the locks, about the bay door held open by the one stubborn brick. I limp into the darkness of what was once a small café, past the chairs shoved off to one side and press hard against the door.

It doesn't budge. Wasn't this where they came in? Or was it the door over.

I drag myself to the store next door and lean against the door, push down the handle, and shove. Nothing. I pull the handle up and yank the door – it doesn't move. Maybe they came from one of the other store husks? So I drag myself to the other cavities along the side, pulling and pushing on every door that I partly know leads to the bay door. Nothing, they are all stiff. Now I don't have to worry about people coming in, or is there someone locking all of them that I haven't yet found? Never mind, as long as no one else comes in it's fine. I must find the straggler and silence them – no one must find this place and leave.

The smear of blood drains away from the spot, half the size it was before and shrinking. I have to pass it to get to the others, or else I don't know if one of them got out of this place. My dragging steps cut across the blood, letting the tile below exposed and I watch it, stare as the blood covers it again and still shrinks from the spot. How is it happening?

A crackle of falling chairs gets my attention, a hovering flashlight illuminating the back area of the small café. How did it get in? The person is pushing the chairs back up while the flashlight rolls on a table. "Shit, I need to be careful," the person whispers, I can't hear if it's a girl or boy, but I already make my approach and drag the knife out of my arm. "Jesus, this place is so fucking dusty," the person coughs and takes up the flashlight. "So far, not a great place for a party," the person, a she from her voice as I came closer. I step on glass, she snaps the flashlight over to me. "Oh god!"

She begins to flee and grabs the door and pulls – it doesn't budge. "Come on you piece of – " she looks back to me, the flashlight hit my eyes and the knife that I wipe with my other hand. "Get back!" She falls down, her coat dark and fluffy, close to the one that owned the car, she knows something.

"Whoooo," the knife hangs and blood from the hole I dig it in drips over my fingers, "aaareee" I swallow back bubbling blood, "youuuu?"

She's mute as she stares at the knife, mute with trembling lips, the flashlight illuminating her face, liquid pours down her cheeks. The features of her face are in knots, tense with a frame of tears. She wants to escape, to tell the world of this place and I'll never have my peace. "Oh god don't!" her hands are over her face, knife slices through them in an instant. I slash at her, aim for her eyes, aim for her mouth, aim for her face – then she can tell no one of this place. Her screams go everywhere, bounce off the walls, no doubt heard by the others held up in their darkness. She'll have hers soon, then she'd be quiet. I cut. I gorge. I slash. I twist the knife within her neck to share the hole in mine. My pain is now hers, and I want to show her my death.

She bubbles on the ground, blood dripping down her face in hands made of ribbons. Tears aren't enough here, bleeding is the only way to dull it, and it hides in the deep shadows. I must show her, carry her, take her up the stairs, lay her down in the middle of darkness. So it is done, scooping her up in my arms, forcing her to be still with the knife through her chest until she gives in. I miss Sarah, this is how I held her the day we wed, I want to hold her again.

But this girl will do.

She is the first one to lie alone on the second floor, dropped behind clothing racks. She's crying – of course she is crying alone in the dark. That's what death is, an incomplete darkness and no way to get out. She'll know this, maybe she'll appreciate what I am doing? I have no idea, and I don't feel like walking down the stairs – so I fall over the rail and crack my skull.

I don't black out, I never do nor do I need sleep or food. I have no idea what I am running on. Blood. I got plenty of it and the bleeding never ends. Maybe because I bleed I still live, or that the bleeding is keeping me alive? I watch the migrating blood moving in swirls, rippling across the floor. It's amazing, following the bodies to where they lie bleeding.

It's the only natural beauty in this place. It stands out among the dust and decay, the red amongst the brown and black, rippling across the floor like a tide going in and out. It reminds me of the beach – I should go to the beach with Sarah and the kids, when all of this is over.
Chapter Fourteen

A week has passed since the last time she was in Findlay. Carol expected them to call during the week, but she hadn't tried calling herself, worrying over if they would even try to pick up. Maybe everything was fine down there, the three that went into the building probably just got out and then had some fun – forgetting about the weird encounter that night. In all nothing she should worry herself over, Carol decided, all she needed to handle was herself and Tilly; the police can handle the disappearance of Victor Lewis and she can spend a quiet evening alone. Since Hadi needed to sort out a new apartment and to fix his clunky car, the group wasn't going to get together this week or the next, and Tilly liked that.

Carol pushes Tilly out of the way with her foot, passing the Rottweiler and sitting down on the couch with a bag full of various candies. Tilly jumps on to the couch beside her, patting Carol's thigh with her paws and laying her head down into the sweater and pajama pants. Carol just gave her a few pats and then turns on the TV to surf through the channels. She passes over to the local news network, just to catch up on government affairs. Between sticking candies into her mouth she flickers back and forth to channel lineups and the news, then she can fall asleep while the TV is on in a candy-coma. The best coma.

The talk-show winds down and covers earlier material – Carol weighs between the action movies and reruns, and switches channels when 'missing' comes up. Carol switches back quickly.

"How long has this guy been missing?

"Since November first, his ex-wife reported him missing the following Saturday when he didn't come visit their kids. Again, this man is 37, and is 5'8" and around 180 pounds. If anyone in the Toledo area has any information, please give information to the police."

"There has been nine people missing in the Findlay area; Chris 'Chip' Isaiah, 17; Colin 'Ko' Erden, 27; Matt 'Detroit' Heldsen, 23; Nick Wheatly, 18; Phillipe Klestler, 31; Jessica Helmelten, 32; Katerine Whendel, 21; Vince Whendel, 16; Bennie Thompson, 22; and Jessica Namesy, 23. These ten have been missing between the November first and now."

Ten photographs, in a two by five form, sat upon the screen. A young teen hugging a dog and smiling; a man posed with two guns and throwing up gang symbols – a white rat on his shoulder; a large man working in a soup kitchen; a smiling man with an arm slung over a woman's shoulder; a mug shot of a man with too many wrinkles; a girl among friends, all but hers blurred; a tall muscular woman posed with arm wraps; a short kid with playing with a white rat; a wrestler practice punching, the tall muscular woman standing off to his side; and a young girl making the other half of the smiling man's photo.

"Oh shit," Carol whispers as she puts the controller down on the couch, folding the bag of candy over itself and runs to her bedroom. Her phone sat in the room charging, the front panel dark until Carol pulls the cord out. Their number is on here somewhere – she calls Jessica first, the one she drove home last week. Nothing, not even a tone. "Fuck, I told her not to, fuck," she pulls up John's number and paces out into the living room to turn down the television's volume.

"Jess?!"

"No, Carol." A soft 'oh' and a heavy sigh follows. "I saw the missing person bulletin, caught it just a few minutes ago." Tilly jumps off the couch and crouches down, tail wagging. "No Tilly." She whispers away from the phone.

"Oh, so now you know."

"Why haven't you called?"

"I've," a distant sigh, "I've been wrapped up in supporting her daughter – my niece, and didn't want to talk about it."

"Do you think she went in there?"

"Hell if I know, she's here one day then gone the next and I can't reach her! I- our parents freaked out, asked me, then reported her missing earlier today. Since apparently not coming back to her daughter is less important inventory than not being seen or heard from in a week." In the background a baby is crying. "I've had to take care of her daughter for now, our parents are heavy travelers and won't be back for two more days.

"She went back in after I told her not to?"

"She's stubborn and misses the shit out of Nick, so maybe she went in to find him – hell if I know!" He shouts at the crying baby in the background and turns back to the phone. "I might call back latter if I know anything new."

"Alright, good." The call closes, Carol slides her phone into her bra and goes back into her bedroom, changing out of the sweater and pajama pants to thicker clothing. A charm from the back of her sock drawer goes around her neck and she crosses her chest. "Tilly!" she grabs the green leash and a set of dog snow shoes, the rottie scrambles over whining and pawing at the ground. Carol knees down and snaps the lead to her collar, calming her enough to grab her a paw. "I know you don't like these, but don't want to get frosty toes."

After much fussing Tilly has her booties on sitting in the back seat of Carol's car, beside a small bag with binoculars, a flashlight, and a small camera. Carol returns to the car after shaking the doorknob a few times and relocks it, when satisfied she gets into her car and backs out of the driveway – driving along the dark streets before getting onto the highway to Findlay where she follows the white rats.

The mall still stands as a dark block in the horizon and she glances back at it every so often, tracing the sky with her eyes where she swears the sky above it is a bit different. Tilly in the back of the car is barking, Carol telling her more than once to shut up. The Rottweiler eventually settles down but stares out the window at the lights and the few passing cars. Her stomach is still in a rumble but she prefers working on a low stomach – it helps her see more of the shadows. The trail of the white rats leads her back to the mall and she parks along the side of the fence, always watching the building among the snow. "Tilly, heel," she whispers when the rottie jumps out of the car and starts looking around. Carol stands on the leash while she pulls out the small bag and slips the items on and in her thick jacket. A rush of wind makes her shutter and zip up the front of her coat and pick up Tilly's trigger-controlled leash. "Come," Tilly follows her into the snow. They wade through the deep snow, Tilly letting Carol lead her through and standing in her shadow, where it is easier for her to step.

Halfway into the parking lot Carol stops and pulls out her camera, filming the sunset sky and tracing the shape in a side sweeping motion. "Tilly, trace," The dog moves around Carol and begins to lead to the mall, Carol plodding along behind her in the snow, still recording the sky. Tilly stops a few times, looking around the area, for Carol, and at the building itself – her sight trained on the dark window above the entrance. "Good girl," Carol rubs her head then puts away the camera, replacing it with the binoculars and the flashlight – one set for long range.

There's a smear on the window hardly visible between their distance and the dark tarp covering it from the inside. She juggles the binoculars and the flashlight, training her sight on the odd smudge in the window. It's black, almost like tar, but a faint red against the tarp behind it. This place was being used as some sort of hideout, nothing specifically wrong with it, and Carol turns towards the entrance. Tilly barks and stares at the window, barking few short times before looking at Carol and bobbing her ears, then back to the window. Carol snaps the light and the binoculars back to the window, tracing around it until Tilly stops barking and whines.

"What is it Tilly?" The Rottweiler is looking up at the sky and whines, and Carol looks up.

A cloud is passing over, lit in a pale glow from the vanishing sun, and at a basic glance nothing is odd. Then she looks along the sides of the building and the faint glow is there, a bare echo of light but there. She brings her camera out and begins to film it, letting Tilly bark at her feet – she's looking back at the window again. A chill, not from the wind, shakes Carol, and she records a new mark among the side of the window and a faint fluttering back sheet. Something is in there, and it's watching out of her sight. Carol rubs Tilly on the head and walks backwards, "come on Tilly," she whispers, the dog moves and then looks back at the window. "Tilly, come." Then Tilly follows, looking back to the window when they are half-way out of the snowy parking lot and when she sits in the back of the car.

Carol snaps Tilly out of her trance at a McDonald's, ordering two burgers and large fries for herself and a chicken sandwich and chicken nuggets for Tilly. The car sits idle while they eat, Carol passing one piece at a time to Tilly who takes each bit of food gently from her hand.

"Tilly, what in the hell is going on," Carol speaks through a bite of one of the burger, "One guy may have gone to it, vanishes, then all these other people fuck off afterwards. Jesus Christ, that place lit the fuck up – shit," she wraps the burger back up and pulls her camera up with her and goes back through the footage. After review, none of the glowing besides the cloud is there, and the huge window is without much difference – then she watches it a second time. In the recording, while Tilly barked in the background of the mute video, it passes over from the far left side to the far right, crossing the window on its journey. In one of the frames two specks of yellow flash for a moment, then are gone. "What the fuck," she only stares, forgetting the whining Tilly in the back seat and her cooling fries.

When she snaps back, she holds the remaining pieces of food for Tilly in a flat hand and stuffs her burger and fries into her mouth with another. "I really hope Alexis isn't out partying." A quick phone call answers it; a large yes. Disgruntled, Carol starts her car again and heads home, giving the dark building on the horizon a passing glance on the highway.

They arrive home shortly and settle down again while the TV blasts a trashy action movie, Tilly asleep on the couch with her head on Carol's stomach, who lies down on the couch with a small ottoman pulled in front of her. The bag of candies she had put away earlier sits in front of her, as well as a bowl of cheese crackers, a bottle of water, and her phone, which she eagerly waits for Alexis to call back. During a commercial break in between two movies, Carol falls asleep and doesn't wake up until the next morning – three missed calls on her phone.

At the first glance it did not register to her, half asleep she walked into the bathroom and then to her bed in the back. Another hour passes before she comes out again, heading for the kitchen and heating up a canned soup. Tilly begs for food, and Carol just gives her a few milk bones to chew on. A few more minutes, and she's back in the living room watching the tail end of a cartoon rerun – her foot hits her phone.

"Oh shit," Carol picks the phone up, the screen blinks on, and a red three box sticks in a corner. It was Alexis. "Come on," she flips through any other missed messages, one that came from John that was a descriptive 'meet @ mcd'. She notes it for later and calls Alexis up, taking a sip of her soup as the call waits to be picked up.

"You've reached Alexis wonder chick, I am in no way a professional," her voicemail rings, Carol keeps eating her soup. A groan greets her after a few minutes. "Ughn, what is it."

"You tried to call me back last night?" Carol looks over to the staring Rottweiler on her right. On the other end sheets are rustling and someone besides Alexis is mumbling.

"Which we?" Drunk dialing, Carol reckons.

"Carol, black chick, Urban Exploration, Spiritual Senses," Carol sips more soup while the other side is silent, probably just Alexis trying o collect her thoughts. "I tried to call you last night, I went back to Findlay and the mall-" a massive sigh comes from the other end.

"Carol, goddamni – shit," a chair falls in the background of Alexis side.

"I know, sounds the same like Erie, etc, don't do that again, etc. This time I took Tilly with me – she sensed it too, and I got pictures and video."

"So you want me to take a look at them, and hopefully dispel your suspicions?"

"Well, yeah, that's what your good for."

"Gee thanks," in the background a door slams, "Give me like an hour, or two, got a bad hang and one night stand."

"So you got it on with a small table stand?"

"Oh shut up. I'll call you back when I don't feel like shit." The call ends. Carol shakes the smile off her face, puts the phone down, and calls Tilly to the back door.
Chapter Fifteen

The car came back again.

It sat for a while, and the driver got out on the other side, something was moving around in the back seat. I can only stare from the window, watching as a dog and the driver came out around the front and the headlights of the car flashes off and on – it was locked. The dog, a big black one against the snow, followed the driver towards here, walking in her steps. An item takes occupation of the driver's hands, probably a camera, as the dark dressed driver looks above the building and looks across it. When she stops and turns down to the dog, it moves ahead of her and starts looking around, plodding through the snow; what in the hell is it looking for?

The dog stares straight at the window and the driver starts pulling something out of a bag. The black tarp falls from my bloody hand and I stand still, waiting, silent, and then a huge light shines through the tarp's small holes. A long-beam light, could this be a police officer, or another person checking the place out? Either will just end the same. The high range light moves down after a couple minutes and I peek out.

The dark dogs starts barking. Reeling back from the window is my first move, and the light comes back shortly and stays there until the dog stops its loud barks. The light goes away again and its off and out of the driver's hands – what looks like a camera has taken its place and she is tracing the sky. The dog is barking again, I swear we make eye contact, but the driver doesn't move away from tracing around the building –nowhere near the window the dog watches and I look through. But now the driver is tracing around lower on the outside, and might pass by the window again, and I press back away from the window and back out of sight.

I have no idea if the woman in black is still looking at the window. There I stand, waiting, listening to the driver shout at the dog. I look out again and lock eyes on the dog. It's still staring, even as it walks away, it still keeps sight of the window where I stand. Eventually the car owned by the woman in black leaves. The snow fields are quiet again but stained in boot and paw-prints.

Disgusting, ruining the snow for what, a few pictures?

It is time to make the route again.

But many of their faces are completely ruined, most of their eyes popped out, a few with perfect permanent smiles. A few of them still have a piece of their scalp. I could try to do something new, pass the time a bit more.

No, no, it's time to pop another one. If I still could, I'd be smiling and laughing, but only bloody bubbles come to express my joy – or was it the sensation of feeling their crying, their sobbing, their begging, echoing through me? It's hard to tell. I don't get any sexual pleasures from it, I don't skull fuck them in their macerated faces while they beg and plead – then again, that could be fun – if it wasn't completely blown off like the rest of me by a few shotgun blasts. I'm not so bad that I'd do that, not completely, but what is sensations without feeling?

The knife wiggles within the gash in my upper arm as I walk down the stairs, listening to the complete silence surrounding me. Just beautiful, and it hides all the suffering locked away in the dark. I haven't gouged the eyes out of two of the shooters in the basement, and of the guy suffering in the room with the teenager he broke the skull of. I could get a two-for-one, scare the teen enough that he starts crying about someone named 'Jess' or some other inane bullshit he makes up. He's done more harm to himself than I ever did.

I wonder if he talks to the guy when they're alone.

It'd be interesting to watch. The teen shouting at the guy that is completely unable to move and just sobbing, and the teen beating himself over some bullshit for being a fucking moron about even coming here. He fucking deserves dying here, he came and got himself fucked up, completely, and doesn't even have the decency to die before I arrived and saved his ass from death.

Sure enough when I walk into the office place where he's stored in the backroom, probably the first time in.... ten days? I remember fuck all of when he arrived here and got his stupid ass stuck here. He's sobbing about not being with a girl, the 'Jess' he was talking about earlier, and the other guy is moaning and puking, yelling through it for the teen to shut the fuck up. Hard to say I disagree with him, I'm glad everything goes quiet outside of here.

I take my time walking through the dust and my blood flowing forward – which took some time to get used to. But he won't fucking stop going on and crying his little bitch-ass off about this fucking chick – walking faster makes sense. I shove the door in to the darkness and the crying stops.

"Are you fucking ready to explain yourself you fucking dick!" screams the teen, I can hear the shaking in his voice, and then a light bursts into my face. "Took long enough for your limp-dick shit stain of a face back in here – long enough that I could drag myself by my broken fingers to get this bullshit." A red bubble groan rumbles within me.

"It," I pull the knife from my arm, listen to the flap of the gash closing, and put it towards the light, "you," I take a step and put the knife up against my face, the blade digging into my cheek and blood oozes down, "face." He's quiet, and I can finally get to business scaring the shit out of his face. The guy on the ground started crying and murmuring, something along the lines of 'please no', 'get away from me', 'monster', 'oh god', etc etc. Nothing I haven't heard before. I kneel, turning him onto his back and I hold his face.

"What are you doing to him," the teen still has the light on me.

Good.

I want him to watch.

Boney fingers dig into his fat face and against his jaw, forcing the fucking thing open and that's where I first put the knife, inside his fucking mouth. The guy is crying, sobbing, pleading, but it's hard to hear with his mouth stuck open and the blade pushing against the side of his mouth. It goes up and down, slowly, and pushes until he starts bleeding, and I push the blade harder, and harder. Only bone stops me, then I go to the other side and press the blade between his lips, and force his mouth closed.

"What the fuck," the teen's voice hitches.

A jagged tear forms on the other side of the guy's jaw; a pull and press, pull and press. Surely his tongue is being cut too, since it's still in there somewhere. The guy cries, boo-fucking-hoo, I had a lot worse you disgusting sack. The blade meets bone and I pull the knife out – the teen sighs in relief – and then the knife goes across the guy's nose and a welt of red drips. Oh the release is so close, they are right there for the picking. A plump white, red, and brown sphere that just screams for me to break it; since the teen is so kind to shine a light this whole time, bless him, I can actually see it pop.

It feels like the first time again, tracing the knife around the guy's eye. He has the gull to close his eyes. It just won't do, they are screaming at me too much to break them. Carefully the knife slips around the side of the guy's right eye socket – I turn his head to the light to see even better. Slowly, ever so deliciously slowly, I stick he skin by his eye and watch it bleed. A hand has to hold his face still through his jaw and into his sinuses, to keep the knife from popping the gorgeous sphere too early. Carefully the knife cuts off the upper eyelid and flutters around over his nose, and the lower one comes off soon afterwards – but now the pearl is stained, more red than white and the brown bounces side to side. The tears clean it off slowly, I wait for it to return to white and the teenager pukes in the corner. Almost there, and the knife goes around his eye socket, the brown following it and gurgles coming from his throat as red bubbles.

This is it, and I press the tip into the center of the brown, listen to him try to scream without a lower jaw and tongue. Ever so gently, and the first burst comes from the brown, oh, so gorgeous. The pearl is next. I can already feel the gushing over my hands, just like the first time. Pressings are slow, I sit upon his stomach and red bubbles leak from the hole in my chest and the cut throat. The angle is wrong, I move it back a bit, and press more, and more, soon, very soon –

It pours clear over my hand and deflates into its socket, all in the light of the flashlight the teen generously picked up and shined on us. I felt it inside me, the fluttering and the tears across my face breaking wider. Ah yes, it was so worth it, I should save the other one for another time, get off to popping the white pearl with the brown spot peeking out. "Yes," slips out from me, a rumble of red bubbles, and the teenager pukes again.

"You – you're fucking insane, oh god, fuck." Looking over, the teen is curled in a corner, the flashlight thrown away, still on the guys face. They're both crying, but one of them can cry a little less and is unable to speak, his jaw hanging down limp. What a buzz-kill.

Outside the room, I hear people speaking. New pearls to pop.
Chapter Sixteen

Carol's car slides quietly between a truck and a van, one having their window sprayed over with 'second month anniversary!' complete with spelling mistakes. Her thick coat drags against the side of her door, squeezing out of her car and pass the massive, row-rider truck. Alexis, sitting on a covered bench, motioned her over with a wave and tucked her hands back into the thin windbreaker she wore. Carol's bag sat on her lap, the camera tucked away in the lower front pocket; the upper ones held various long term foods.

"Carol, took you long enough to get here, I was about to leave your ass in the cold."

"Glad you're still using that old thing instead of a thicker jacket."

"Pff. So, what do you so called got for me to look at?"

"A video and some pictures I took at the mall. There is at least something on them this time, I promise you," Carol pulls the camera out and flips it to the recording, fast-forwarding through some of it and pauses before it passes the window. "Here, watch this," and she hands the camcorder over to Alexis, sitting down beside her, the backpack sitting on her lap.

"Fine, whatever you say Carol," Alexis turns the view finder to herself and presses play. Tilly's barking is heard crispy through the whipping of the winds, video panning from the left to the right and over the window. At the end of the video Carol reaches for the camcorder, but Alexis pulls it back and rewinds, and watches it again. "Is there a setting on here to slow the video down?"

"No, at least that I know of."

"Then we need to get in my dorm," Alexis closes the camcorder's view finder and stuffs it into one of the pockets of her windbreaker. They both make their way to the dorm, Alexis tugging her keychain out of her jeans while they make their way to the second floor and to dorm 239, and she sticks the lock with the key and turns - the chain lock stops the door from opening. "Ray! Get your pants on and unlock this chain!"

"Fuck off Allie!"

"No, fuck you, open the damn door, I got business to do!"

"I hope they like ass cheeks on the bathroom mirror!"

"Oh for," Alexis hands the camera back to Carol, then she lays against the door and squeezes her finger into the thin gap and wiggles the wall mount of the chain loose, and unhooks the chain. "You better have some fucking clothe on asshat."

"Whatever, I ain't going to clean off the ass smear."

"Roommates," Alexis moans, stepping over a pile of clothing that fell into the hallway, then over a book bag and over to her desk in the corner. Carol takes a seat on the clean straightened bed.

"So, Ray's your roommate?"

"Yeah, have to deal with that dick all the time except on weekdays when he works." She holds her hand out to Carol while her computer wakes up. "I'd like to be housed in the other dorms, but you know. Where is the connection port?"

"Right... here," Carol points to a hatch on the bottom, Alexis opens it, then sets it down on the desk.

"Great, then I need to find the right size," Alexis groans, heaving a large plastic box of assorted wires and cords. "Mind telling me what you saw, or what it felt like being there?"

"So," Carol makes herself comfortable, and holds out her hands, "I got there around six last night, after I saw a missing person... report, I had Tilly walk behind me for a bit, pulled out my camera the first time and just swept around the outside of the building – told Tilly to do her thing and just stood back and watched."

"Wait, so you went after you saw a missing person report and decided the mall and the missing kitchen hand had something to do with it?"

"No, not really. See last week I went back to check the place again, met some kids, exchanged numbers with two of them – one of them was in the missing person report." Alexis stops rummaging and turns to Carol. "There was ten people in the missing person report, and she was one of them. I called the other guy I talked with and he says she left back to the mall the next day – so she went missing for a week too. And so," Carol slaps her hands together; "I decided to check it out again – this time with Tilly and my camera."

"So, hold on a minute. You went to check out the mall a second time, came across two people, got their number, and one of them went... missing the next day?"

"It wasn't just those two, it was those two and three others – and I think they were on the missing person report as well, and a guy named Nick, I overheard that they were looking for a guy named Nick and the girl I met, Jess, she was really eager to find him again," Alexis turns back to her box of wires and cords and starts testing plugs for the camera.

"It would've helped if you brought the damn cord with you."

"Sorry, I was too busy preparing some food for later."

Alexis drops some wires back in the box. "Carol, don't."

"Ain't gonna stop me, Alexis, if I'm set on something there is no way I'm stopping."

"Fine," breathes Alexis and turns back to the box and the wires. "So how was it?"

"On the way there, because I can see a bit of the mall from the highway, Tilly was looking at it and barking. I had to calm her down a bit while I still made my way and followed the White Rats," Alexis turns to her a bit, "the local gang, have these white rats everywhere. When I get there the sun is close to completely setting, and I take Tilly halfway into the parking lot that is completely covered in snow and tell her to do her thing. She sniffs and looks around, then while I am doing the first recording just of the structure Tilly starts barking. When I look, its right to the wide window over the entrance, and I take out my long-range flashlight and look at it with binoculars. There's like this tar-like smudge near one of the sides, very dark and it's on the glass, and its faintly red, a deep red maybe but it's a gang hideout, it could be stale ass jam for all I know.

"I look away from it, to the boarded up doors below, and Tilly starts barking again, to the window! I look back and there is nothing, not even one single change, just when I'm thinking on turning back, Tilly's barks turn into whines and she's looking at the sky of all things. So, fine, she thinks something is wrong with the sky. Who the fuck knows, there's gonna be nothing special – right? But then I look around one side of the building and there is this thin line of light that can't fucking be there. I take out my camera and start recording it, then try to trace it around the side of the building. I have to go past the window because the line still goes around it. Around that time a chill shakes me. That was when I decided to leave.

"I take the both of us to get some food and go back over the video, delete the first one and watch the second one in my car. You saw the video. Any idea what the two flashing light could be?" Carol watches Alexis connect the camera and computer together and fiddle with programs on her screen.

"I don't know, but most of the time eye flashes are from animals that got reflective eyes like a cat or a deer. Are you sure it isn't either of those?"

"I looked at that window three different times, I saw no cat or deer staring back at me."

"Huh," Alexis drags the video out of Carol's camera, to her desktop, and into her video editing software. "Here, you can have it back," she hands Carol her camera, who gives a small thanks and tucks it in her bag. "I'm gonna splice those few seconds out of the video and lengthen it, make it slow as fuck."

"Okay. Then what, boost the light?"

"Sounds good, now then," Alexis works her magic in the video editor. Carol watches in the background, no idea what or why Alexis takes a long time cutting the clip out and extending it – but she knows that she is in no way good at figuring tech things out. "Here we go," Alexis tilts the monitor over to Carol, she takes the mouse, expands the view, and presses play.

The video crawls rightwards, barely moving at some points; the main point is when the two yellow points start glowing and stay that way until the camera starts moving away – but the yellow dots also moved and the darkness behind them shifted before it was completely out of sight. Both of them stared at each other and Alexis started it again. The video was the same; the yellow dots faded in, turned, the darkness behind it shifted, and they were gone. For good measure Alexis played it again and paused when the yellow began to vanish. Both of them were silent, Alexis Roommate comes out of the bathroom and looks at the screen.

"What the hell is that you two are watching."

"Marble hornets," Carol blurts out.

"Oh, that shit. Allie, leave the door open, I might have to run back for something."

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Raymond," Alexis says flatly. The roommate is gone, and Alexis goes over and solidly locks the door and screws the chain lock back into place; she turns back to Carol from the door. "Okay, what the fuck Carol. What in the hell is that," she points at the screen and comes back to her computer.

"That's what I want to know! You know how exposed I was against the snow? Something was watching me from the window, oh my god, I was being watched and that shiver I felt wasn't the wind," Carol rubs at her head. "You go any soups?"

"Yeah, give me a minute to heat up some ramen," Alexis shoves two slabs of dry ramen into a large container, fills it with water, and puts it in the microwave for six minutes. "Okay, so," she sits back down at her computer. "I have to boost it to get a better picture of whatever that fucking thing is in the window." Carol can only watch while Alexis works her magic with the video editing program, the microwave beeps. "Forks are in the blue container," she points to somewhere beside the microwave and returns to the program, slowly setting the video settings to where it is a lot brighter with at least some definition. Carol settles herself on Alexis' bed and starts shoving food into her mouth, staring at the screen.

The video starts playing at an even slower speed, the outline of the building and sky a sharp grey shape against a bright background – complete garbage looking – and then it traces around the window and gets even slower, the once yellow glare a solid white against the greys and black background. A shape, a very human shape except for what looks like a handle sticks out of one side, and the back tarp moves, the shape moves to the side, and a black smear marks the movement of an arm and then it vanishes off to the side of the window. The video stops.

Silence.

"How long do you think it'd take Hadi's car to get back to good enough shape?" whispers Alexis, saving the video and closing the editing program.

"I don't know, another week or so?" Carol watches Alexis pull a thumb-drive out of a container to one side of the monitor and sticks it into the computer.

"Think you can drive him?"

"Why?"

"He can find a way to get information on the place."
Chapter Seventeen

They're talking loud in what was once the comfortable silence, it echoes, they might as well be yelling. Two people, both women, their words blur together in a long string of droning noise - they are completely unaware of the secrets in the walls. I don't walk to them yet, waiting in the darkness of the storefront the teen and the man with the fresh pearl picked. I can still hear the guy's sobbing, the teen's yelling. The women are getting closer, their works slowly make sense, the footsteps on glass coming ever closer. A gust of wind blows out of the mall and their talking stops, the teen still screaming.

Running, they are both running closer; what alarmed them?

The rooms held their own secrets, why are they running.

The gust of wind stops and the running slows, their shouting begins again.

"What the hell was that?"

"I don't know, but it sounded like it came from in there," a light shines into the darkness on my left and the yelling and sobbing stops, another gust blowing gently inward.

"You sure? I really don't want to go in there, it's too dark."

"Don't worry, I got this flashlight." One steps in and walks right past me, the flashlight shining against the opposing wall. The second follows behind her, wrapped in a dark fluffy coat. Could it be the owner of the car?

The slopping sound of the knife inching out of my arm doesn't make them turn. Good. The first one wanders closer to the backroom, the second one stands still, looking from side to side, but she can't see me standing behind her. I can already feel the sensation of her pearls leaking over my hand, and I stab her in the head. She screams, the first girl turns around and shines the light on me. The knife pulls back the hood of the second girl when I wiggle it out of her skull and brain, her hands grabbing back on the blade of the knife. For her, it was a bad decision, and I grab her wrists behind her head, tug the knife out, and drag it across her wrist.

They both scream and the first girl runs, running to me and trying to hit me with the flashlight. It connects and I drop the hands of the second girl, who crawls away and turns around. The first girl hits me with the flashlight again, right across the forehead and she strikes again, and again, then shouts to the second girl. The knife was out of my hands, she held it in hers, and threw it back into the darkness. "Run!" yelled one of them, and I grabbed one of their ankles and tugged. The first girl's face landed on glass and she turns back over quickly, kicking at my face. In my other hand I held a long shard of glass, blood dripping down the jagged edges, and plunged it into her ankle. She screams, the second girl screams, and I crawl up the body of the first girl while she fights. Her punches tickle, the blood bubbles drip over her, and I stab her in the chest close to a dozen times until she doesn't fight back; only sobbing becomes her now.

The second girl huddles away in the corner, the flashlight turned to my face - it could've blinded me if she wasn't holding it, shaking it between sobs. "No, no no, no no no no," she hiccups and whines, watching me rise to my feet with the glass shard still held in my right hand. Her 'death' isn't as exciting as the first girl's, she only sits there sobbing while I stab her several times in the face - making sure I don't hit the pearls staring at me.

Sobbing silence returns with the teen in the other room shouting for a girl named Jessica, the same fucking girl he was crying about before. The two girls are just lying on the floor still except for hiccupping sobs, I should move them somewhere else. I have to step over the sobbing first girl to get out of the room, embracing the silence that covers me when I make it all the way out. At last, some sort of silence.

The second floor would be an ideal place to fit them, cause more trauma to the teenager about a girl that won't answer him back. Stepping back into the room and over the broken glass greets me to the sobbing and bawling of four people - they just won't shut the fuck up. Where in the fuck did the knife fly off to?

Plodding through the darkness, knelt down on the floor and sweeping around tiny shards of glass, I search for it, where the fuck did it go. The women are still sobbing, glass is moving somewhere behind me, one of them might be trying to escape. Can't let that, won't let that, and my hand brushes the blade of the knife. It's the first girl, she's trying to crawl out of the darkness. Head shaking, I drag myself over to her and kneel on her back, pulling the scarf around her neck backwards and choke her. The knife becomes a wedge between her upper and lower jaw, and I pull back and saw it through her skin, listening to her screams. Her pearls must be a pure white now, right for harvest.

What does it taste like?

Moving forward, kneeling on her upper back and almost on her neck, the hand without the knife pulls her head back by the dirty blonde hair, and the knife digs into the flesh around her socket. The women is screaming, the knife retreats and her teeth meet the floor before the knife comes back, slitting the eyebrow area off. It's texture, except for the short hairs on one side, feels like sliced tomatoes. She can only watch the knife come back after the dropping of her eyebrow. The blade points almost at her eye, then dips downwards, and slowly shears the flesh away, rubbing against the bone socket. Back and forth, rubbing, slowly the meat around the pearl loosens, the blue spot and tiny black dot staring away to the distance. The knife falls away and her head slams into the ground, a tooth shard falling out and blood spilling down her lip. She's still breathing, bubbles coming through the thick rich blood.

The knife returns to her face and carves through the flesh attaching the top and inner side, making a cut deep into her nose running with snot. Disgusting. Face hits tile again, shaking loose the blood seeping around the glossy pearl – so close, and I lean in and lick it. Her copper doesn't surpass mine, but the tears that lit up like a beacon are so delicious, and the eye itself is smooth, just like what a pearl should be, or like a giant juicy grape. One more lick before it comes out, knife digging deep into the boney socket, stopping every so often to tear away flesh from around the sparkling pearl and leaving them on the ground. The pearl, still ever so bright, is barely held in by thin strings.

They take a little more force.

Straddling her head, left hand digging deep into the socket for the wires holding it in, the knife patient, ready, hungry, and I am too. The sphere cradles within my hand and pull, shifting it to the left, and exposing the veins and nerves that are the only thing holding it in. I'm doubled over her, face over hers, and give the eyeball another lick, and cut the nerve.

Ah, there it is, cradled in my hands, gleaming in the light, the knife among the glass.

I wipe the blood away from the blue center, holding it still by the nerves sticking out of the back. Oh god, it's wonderful. And I hold it over my head like a cherry, open my mouth as blood bubbles over the gashes. I first let it lay across my tongue, roll it into my mouth, and let it slide around for a bit, the nerves at the end tickling; I bite the nerves and suck on it, the blood bubbles near bursting out my throat, and I roll it over and split it. For the most part, it's tasteless, bitter and runny. The husk of the juices is all that is left and I pull it out and toss it.

Now, to move these two before more people show up.

I drag the second girl first by her legs, letting the glass shards tear at her back, slam her head into each step, and leave her alone in the darkness of an upstairs store with a small desk near the front and several shelves going from front to back. I take the short way back down, break a leg, and limp back to the first girl and drag her out by her arms, her head dragging on the floor – it probably harmed her other pearl, but the first one was bitter so the other one must taste the same. I let them lay down beside each other, nearly head to head in the small space. I leave them to do another round of checking, almost out of the store, I hear them talking and consulting each other, and I heard them clear through the sobbing and the hiccups.

"Was- was that VTLewis?"

"Just... leave it," and then they are quiet. I'm sure that one of them was the driver, but then that means the thread is still up... and people are trying to come here. Another plunge off the second floor resets my thoughts and I pick the knife out of the glass.
Chapter Eighteen

"We have to get that thread down before anyone gets any ideas," Alexis starts, letting the projector display her laptop and the thread posted by VTLewis. "If we're going to do this, and it is a stupid fucking idea, we need to keep other kids from going in. So far, from what I gathered on his thread, was that the mall opened up about a year or so ago then closed down after six months. Previous reports during the time it was constructed and after it was open for the short time states that a lot of people were uncomfortable about the location, or mostly noted was of the area that became the center-most area of the mall. There are very few images I found that were taken of the mall during the time of construction – and a fountain looks like it is at the center of the structure from the three main mega-chain store points and the legitimate entrances. That's all the post really holds, except for that over time VTLewis became more drawn to it over an extended period of time as he constantly did stake-outs from the outer rim." She turns over the Carol, who sits on the corner of the couch.

"The outside of the place is covered with graffiti, and from what I saw a small gang has a hold on the area – their White Rats almost everywhere. Most of it is well sealed except for one area on the northern most side of the building – a bay door that might be propped up by something." She looks over at Hadi, a bottle of water held in one hand, a bowl of soup in the other. "So, what do you think?"

"The police can handle it," Hadi takes a sip of the bottled water and puts it down beside the armchair. "Can't they? Why should we go?"

"It's not as much as a 'why should we go' as a 'why won't we go'," Alexis comments before Carol finishes her bottle of orange juice and turns over to Hadi again.

"Because I know someone that went into there, I took her home last week, and this week she showed up as missing – her friend, or brother, said she left for the mall the following day and has not come back since. I at least owe him a try to getting her back. And two other ones, I saw them enter the building, and did nothing!" Carol taps her bottle on the side of the couch. "Besides, I got sort of a back-up plan if it's a complete bust or we fuck up majorly."

Hadi, taking a break from his soup, leans back on the chair. "And what would that be?"

"Since I know the guy that I talked to at the mall last week, as well as his number, I thought he could be our relay every half hour or so, just to make sure we were alright."

"What does he think of it?" Carol shrugs. "So you haven't even tried to talk with him about it?"

"I was thinking of doing it after we made all our plans to get in, and when." Carol shrugs, finishing off the bottle then turns to Alexis. "Has there been any new comments on the thread, Alexis?" The projector copies the scrolling on Alexis' laptop, passing pages of comments that slow down around the end of October, and picked up again a week ago;

7TrevorSnake7 : OP hasn't updated since the first, could've anything happened to him?

URBEXOH1: The thread is locked until further notice.

URBEXOH2: Unlocking for discussion. Has anyone had any contact with VTLewis?

ChesireCat38: No, I called him a few times on his phone.

RhynoTorch: He's not answering emails, or IMs

URBEXOH2: Okay, so he has not contacted anyone?

JEJ: Nope, it's been almost a week since he signed in too.

URBEXOH: I'm putting a notice up on the front page, to see if anyone has talked with him.

QTGranite87: I saw a missing poster for a guy with V T and Lewis in their name, same person?

URBEXOH1: TCam has alerted me that they are the same person in IM, but I am leaving the thread open in case anyone has any info.

ImpishTerror : Hey, I checked out the mall he went to. A guy gave us the directions and are thinking of going in, good idea y/n?

URBEXOH2: It's worth a shot, but be careful.

ImpishTerror: Haha, yea, because of the local gang – me and my homie are planning to go to it on the 15th, so spooky hahaha

"Well, shit," Alexis groans, Carol stands and stares. "What's wrong?"

"Wasn't the 15th yesterday?" The room goes so silent that the groaning of the projector is the loudest noise. "Alexis, please tell me the thread can be hidden or something."

"I'll try and see, no idea if any of the admins are awake," she opens the profiles of the admins present in Victor's Mall Thread, and opens a message box for both then turns to Carol.

"Uhm, okay. It has come to my attention that – oh shit, uh, that several people have been vanishing in the vicinity of the mall in the thread posted by VTLewis. Should I mention how many people?" Hadi nods, brows crossed. "Okay, ten people have been missing so far, and I think – what the fuck was that poster's name?" Alexis opens up the thread tab. "Ah, Impishterror, and I think Impishterror and any other person that attempts to go in it are in serious danger. The names of the missing people are listed in the Toledo and Findlay areas, and all have disappeared started on November first. I feel that either deleting the thread or hiding it would be beneficial to the residents and police force in both areas. And the typical signature at the end." Alexis adds on the end 'The Toledo Three' and then goes back over the message. With any errors or spelling mistakes removed, she copies and sends the message off to the first admin, and pasts it in a message to the second admin.

"There, hopefully they'll respond soon."

Hadi, standing in the back of the room against his kitchen countertop, finishes his bottle of water and drops it in a paper bag. "Can you play the video again?"

"Sure, just give me a minute." A few clicks and the slowed down silent video plays again, and again, on the projector. They remain silent while Hadi thinks and watches the video closely. The slow turning of the lit eyes, the mark left on the glass from what could've been an arm, and that's about all Carol and Alexis see, but Hadi's creative mind could piece it together.

"I think what that straight handled object on its – " he reaches his left arm around to his right shoulder and pulls away, " – I think it's a knife stuck in the thing's shoulder. The video repeats and Hadi walks to the wall, "see how it turns with the same rate as the rest of the form? It can't be on the back since it doesn't fit with the angle." He reaches up to his arm again. "So it's something – probably a large kitchen knife, in its arm. And the black tarp – if I remember correctly is used to block windows – was moved by something else than the handle. Look, see how the tarp moves before the handle shifts backwards?"

"Oh... yeah, yeah, I see it now," comments Alexis.

"And if that means what I think it means, it still has mobility of the arm with the knife stuck in it... and then the mark it leaves with what I guess is the left hand. So, bleeding profusely?"

"One hell of a murderer in there," snides Carol, staring back to Alexis when she gives a dirty look. "What?"

"So you are excited to go in there with what could be a mass murderer, which has killed ten, maybe twelve people?"

"No, but if it's not what I thought it could be, then praise be anything. A person can die easily, but something like a skin walker or a zombie? Not so much." Alexis rolls her eyes and closes the video player and returns to the web browser. "Hey, think you can bring up the missing person database?"

"No, I believe you, Carol."

"Just bring it up Alexis." It takes Alexis a short time to find the state website of missing persons, and Alexis scrolls down through the first of 6 pages, stopping on Carol's command.

Jessica Namesy, 23, missing since 11/18/2013, a picture of her smiling face sat on the left side, a scrawl of text beneath it. LAST SEEN: Last seen on the morning of 11/17/2013 by brother, reported missing the next day when she hasn't come back for her daughter.

Bennie Thompson, 22, missing since 11/17/2013, his picture showed him with a wrestling belt around his arm. LAST SEEN: Last seen on the night of 11/16/2013 with his girlfriend who is also missing. Has a full-arm tattoo on left arm and a skull on the back of his neck.

Katerine Whendel, 21, missing since 11/17/2013, her picture was her bikinied body bare and muscles oiled. LAST SEEN: Last seen with boyfriend and younger brother, wearing a thick jacket with a custom back pattern.

Vince Whendel, 16, missing since 11/17/2013, his picture was of him playing with a white rat. LAST SEEN: Last seen with older sister Katerine Whendel. Wears gauges in both ears and has a birthmark on upper back.

"Those four are the people I talked with on the 16th, John was their friend. This is important to him, and I told him I'd help in any way I could. He can help us get some more information, spread around the area to stay out of it – or start some way to prevent people from getting in." Carol seats herself and looks at Alexis, then Hadi. "Any other plans on what to do? We could either do something, or do nothing."

"I think we'd come to a better conclusion if we had John to be part of this discussion," Hadi starts, "But I agree, doing nothing would not help this situation, since – beside us and whatever the hell is in there – no one else has a clue what is going on or where their loved one is at." He looks around, waiting for the other two to add something into the conversation.

"When do we think would be a good time to go in? I need to squeeze them into my classes, Carol has her managing obligations, and you don't got a ride," Alexi comments while turning the projector off and disconnecting the laptop.

"I can drive Hadi down there, and I can drive John up here to figure a plan out. The earlier we do this, the more people we can keep from going missing. How about the night of the 28th, before national stuff-your-face day; we'll all be free to do it then," Carol looks between the both of them, watching Hadi's 'thinking' pose to fade and Alexis' distant stare to shift into a nod.

"Yeah, and if we go missing it's an instant reaction," snaps Alexis, packing up her laptop.

"Alright, so, later today would it be sensible to bring John up to talk?" Carol begins to stand, pulling her half open backpack up to the coffee table and stuffs it up again.

"As long as I can still use this apartment, I got to be moved out by tomorrow," Hadi holds up a hand to Carol, "another friend of mine can help me move by tomorrow, don't worry about it." Carol does a short nod and pulls her cell and car keys out of her backpack, then heads out the door.
Chapter Nineteen

How long has it been since I died?

I peel the shredded, stale coat and shirt and dropped them in a corner with a wet plop as the teenager sobs on the other side of the wall. The prickling in my cut telegraphs the movement of the knife sank deep into my gut, it lays within and I fall backwards to sit.

Has it been a week since I died, or has it been two; they talked like the thread was still up. Is that the reason more people still come, are there more people to come? The circling of blood twirls among the glass shatters, making a spiraling drain in the middle of the floor. A flinch forces the knife out of me, clanging on the floor and sitting still in the blood dripping from my fingers and exposed arms. They're so grey, something more suited for a corpse, but I am one that won't stop moving. Alive but dead, like a zombie, or a vampire, what in the hell am I really. Was the driver of the dark car and the owner of a dog that saw me one of the girls upstairs, or was she still out there with this information?

I... I don't know if it's good or not, the driver has come here three times, circled four times in one night, talked with people that came in here. What does he or she know, how much. Does the person know about the thread, has the person read the thread, is the person planning anything? Oh god, holding my head, curling over, I'm starting to cry. What if someone I knew comes in here, am I going to feed them to the darkness, am I going to pop their eyes, am I going to taste their pearl. What if Sarah tries to find me. What would happen to the children, what would I tell her, should I tell her if she came. Should I try and talk with anyone that shows up?

Hi, I'm Victor Lewis. I'm a living corpse!

I can't even say two words without choking on my blood clots, could I even make a sentence if I wanted to, would they even listen?

How many more times will I be stabbed, shot, ridded, smashed, until I meet death. How long would it be till everyone else dies; the girl with a chair taken to the face, the pair stabbed constantly, the girl slashed while she cowered, the ones who felt their eyes split and popped, the girl who had to watch her own eye get pulled out and eaten. What in the fuck am I on, how could I do all those things?

Sarah, I am so sorry. I am so fucking sorry you had to deal with my shit.

Drunk calls in the middle of the night, drinking until the brink of dawn, coming home drunk, being a piece of shit to the kids, didn't make them dinner, didn't make them breakfast. They had to deal my fucking drunk ass self, why did no one get me help.

I needed it so much.

The knife. Could I harm myself with it and become like them?

I hold it in my right hand, hold my chin back and press it against my throat. Breathe, let the blood bubbles draw down the knife, and exhale. It's forced up, piercing through the cut along the neck, through the empty cavity behind my tongue – I feel the top of the knife on the back of my tongue – and push again, deeper. Pressure tickles the back of my head, and I push again, letting it slip through my brain and through the pre-cracked part of my skull. Blood is pouring down the back of my head. I can still breathe, feeling it wiggle in my brain while I swallow, rubbing against the wall with the back of my head moves the knife deeper into my throat. I shouldn't be able to speak. I should be dead.

Do I have to carve out my own brain for this to end?

A sharp tug gets it to slide from my head and again it's held In my right hand and I stare at the ceiling. How did they feel when their eyes were split? Lids are held by two fingers and the knife rises in the sight of my right eye. Slowly, the knife makes its path around the outside – like how the first person experienced it. I saw the blade against the faint light and of a shiny at it's overhead angle. The blade gets closer, my hand and blade shakes. I breathe calm with my eye still held open, the blade still hanging overhead.

A itch crawls over my eye as the blade rests upon it, my sight almost completely black except for the bottom. My breathing, a slow in and out, shakes on exhale. I press and pull. The knife drops, I hold my face and feel the rush of fluid fall through and into the blood swirling below. Oh god, that fucking hurt. How could I think it was fun? I did it to so many people, I licked a guy's eye before cutting it open, I tore an eye out of someone's face, with a knife that is probably completely dull at this point – her eyebrow is among the light across from me. How in the fuck could I do that.

I don't want to live knowing that.

Why the fuck can't I just die.

Why the fuck are they still alive?

Why, in the fuck, am I still breathing!

The knife isn't far, laying just over by the dropped back of one of the two girls. Ignore it, I want the knife. With it finally in hand, in both hands, I arch my back and hold my stomach forward. I pull it fast, it tears into my insides, then out again. The knife tears into my liver, twists, then ejects. My stomach jolts in another stab, then another, and another. Over, and over, I stab, twist, and pull out. I puke blood a couple times and let it roll across my carved stomach and into the holes. Slowly, I can't feel them anymore. The stabbings slow, my sight fades.

Am I finally able to die?

I see Sarah in the kitchen, when she was pregnant with our second child, she's making something in a pot. Walking to her is easy, my arms wrap around above her large belly, I rest my head in her hair.

'I missed you," I tell her, closing my eyes, smelling and holding her close.

'Dinner will be ready soon Vic. Can you get Rebecca and clean her up? She's been playing with the dog again.'

'Sure honey,' I hug her again and inhale the soup on the stove – then I open my eyes.

Still in the darkness, still lying among the dust and glass with the knife embedded in my hands. The grip is still tight. Glass still shines on the other side of the room, the barely lit center fountain is still there. The teenager is still sobbing and screaming on the other side of the wall, still calling for Jessica. The man is still gurgling.

I wasn't gone for long.

It changed nothing.

I can cry, but it doesn't change anything. I could stab myself several more times again, but it won't change anything. I may try to kill myself, but I'd just come back again. How fast did I snap out of being an eyeball popping, person stabbing murderer to... this? How fast would I go back to killing people. How many would I end up killing? Five, ten, twenty more?

The second girl's bag is still here, I can stave off some time by looking through it. Keep myself from stabbing someone else, taking someone else's eyes and tearing into their stomach. So I open it, pulling out bags of chips and a few pieces of paper. Of course since I'm in the dark I can't read them. But inside is something heavy wrapped in a blanket. Sitting up, setting it in my lap, I pull the folds back even though blood still stains it.

It's a laptop. Could I try and talk to the outside?

Thankfully she hadn't put a password on it. I get to her desktop and a dog stares back, taken by a crappy camera, so it may have been hers, or her parent's. Several icons line the sides, the taskbar flashes a few times and blood stained fingers roll across the track pad in jittering jumps to the bottom of the screen. No internet connection, of course this area isn't covered.

I still roll around her computer, picking through her files and pictures.

She was in high school, graduating next year based off her school work. Her name was Erica. She was excelling in math and history, delicate about her work, scanned her textbook to take with her. Did she move around a lot? She had written a paper on the great depression, which she notes on the bottom, reduce to one double page, in red text. Erica had a hobby in collecting scarves, based on an album on the desktop that read 'want to buy!'.

How could I kill her like that; I stabbed her in the fucking head.

Tears are falling and mixing with blood on the keyboard.

It's a struggle to open a new text file, the mouse shifting horribly, the right mouse button filled with blood and tears. I don't even think I can make the right words appear on screen, or be able to delete any. Eventually it opens, the white box staring, me down.

I am victor lewis

please kill me

I dont want to hurt more

One more struggle, just need to save it, then I can leave the laptop somewhere, so someone else can find it. It saves to the desktop automatically, I name the txt file 'please' and let it be – when it's saved the laptop closes, and I put it down. Then I hold my head and curl my arms, bring my legs up and lock them tight. Crying, weeping, however it can be described.

I don't want to kill anymore
Chapter Twenty

"Come on, answer," Carol snaps her phone close and opens it again, recalling John's number while snapping her seatbelt close with one hand. She starts the car, waiting for an answer before backing out and heading off to the highway. The next attempt is more successful, a little girl babbles into the receiver. "Are you Jessica's daughter?"

"Ya!"

"What's your name?"

"Abbee."

"Can you get John? I need to talk with him." Carol backs the car out and smashes the phone between her shoulder and ear. She looks back while backing out. The little girl screams something far from the phone and someone comes over, an older voice.

"Who's this?"

"Carol, I'm a friend of John's. Is he around?"

"Yes, but now's not a good time."

"I understand. Can you tell him I called? It's sorta urgent."

The older man on the phone sigh and lets out "alright," before the call closes, just as Carol approaches the curb into the main street. She flips her phone out into the front pocket of the backpack and turns her radio up, humming with it as she turns off into the far lane. Only the radio and her partial singing preoccupies the next hour. The phone didn't ring the entire time, but Carol wasn't worried about it since, hey, he could be doing something else at the moment.

There was still a chance that he had decided to go in alone – what would happen to her plan if that was the case?

She shook the thought out of her head and kept driving until she was in Findlay and found a place to park for a while. The car pulls into the parking lot of a large park, where Carol turns the car off and digs through her backpack. In the shuffling around for a bag of almonds, the cell phone rings. "Hello?"

"Hey Carol. Good news, the admins removed the thread."

"Awesome. What else is going on in the site?"

"A thread popped up in the complain sub-thread about its removal – but the admins are taking care of it. Got in contact with your contact yet?"

"No, but I talked with what I guess was his father, and he said he'll tell him I called."

"Great. Think you can call us before you arrive back?"

"Oh don't tell me you two are-"

"God no, Carol. Series Marathon. Wipe that mind some time, Jesus Christ."

"Whatever you say Alexis." Carol cuts the call off and puts the phone back in the backpack. A small book replaces it, Carol takes a glance at the clock – 11:32 – and she pulls the book open at a tagged point and begins reading. Around 2:13, Carol's phone goes off again.

"Hello?" She tags her book while the phone sits snug against her ear and shoulder.

"John, you said it was important?"

"Yeah. I was wondering if you'd join me and my group in planning something."

The other end is silent for a few seconds, "why?"

"Well," Carol repositions herself straight in the driver seat, "my Urbex group was thinking about going in there. And the three of agreed that you'll be very useful for our plan."

"Which is?"

"The three of us go in; you sit outside and check in on us every so often."

"What?"

"I'd give you my car, all you got to do is call us every half hour or so to check if we are alright. Also, we were wondering if you could help spread word to stay out of there until we go in on Wednesday."

"Are you nuts, why would I... okay, it's a stupid idea, but its more than what I am doing now. So, what, you are already in Findlay to pick me up?"

"Yep, to take you up to Toledo to plan, then get you back home."

Another person is speaking in the background, "A friend wants some help fixing up a car." Carol sits back and listens closely. "No, I won't be gone all day, it'll just be for a few hours dad, I know what I am doing.... No, it's not with the White Rats." A person in the background sighs heavily before saying 'fine', "thanks mom," John's voice sighs at the thanks. "Okay, you remember where you dropped me off before? I'll be there to be picked up. My mom doesn't trust anyone with a car."

"Ah, alright. I'll be there in a couple minutes." Carol closes the call and settles it back into her backpack, starts the car, and gets onto the road again. Soon John's sitting in the passenger seat with a small backpack by his feet and watches the scenery buzz by. Carol glances at him for the first 10 miles before she starts worrying, "Haven't been this far up north before?"

"No. Neither of my parents have a car; they've lived in Findlay their whole lives."

"Ever wanted to go somewhere outside of Findlay?"

"Not often, it's the only place I've known. But I'd like to go somewhere else... too comfortable for me, you know?"

"Yeah, I've been in Toledo most of my life, but when I got this car, I was able to go where ever I wanted. As long as I got a job, can't go any place without money."

John only smiles for an instant, "your group, do you do a lot with each other?"

"Yeah, we drive somewhere for a weekend and spent some time making videos, taking pictures. It's not often, but it is better than spending every weekend at home." Carol looks down at the time and then back to the road. "Can you get my phone from my bag?"

"Uh, sure." John unclips his seatbelt and reaches back into the back seat area, pulling Carol's bag forward and starts digging through it. In the front pouch he finds the phone and passes it over to Carol, dropping her backpack behind their seats. "You got a lot of food in there."

"Yeah, when I spend a lot of time away from home, I take food with me," Carol mumbles as she snaps the phone open and calls Alexis' phone, slowing the car and pulling into a right lane. Voice mail greets her, and after a sigh, she talks to the silence. "Yeah, Alexis, it's me. I'm on the highway right now. I'll be there in half an hour or so." She closes the phone and sets it in the drink holder.

"You left to come get me and head right back to your... group meeting?"

"Yeah. We decided to host an emergency one today."

"Why?"

Carol stares at the highway and remains silent long enough for John to turn his attention to somewhere else, only then does Carol open her mouth. "I went to the mall last night, with my dog, Tilly. I wanted to see what she thought of the place, and if I could see anything strange on the outside of it." John looks over at her. "There was... something in the window. I didn't catch it until I went back over the video later on."

"Was it Jess?!"

"No, no. It was something... I don't know, like a... zombie, I think? It had something sticking out of its arm. Well, my friend thinks it did. And it left a dark mark on the window when it turned away. This was after a shit ton of editing by my friend, she's really into video editing and wants to be a cameraman on some sort of show."

"Oh..." John turns back to the window and just stares.

Carol says no more, letting the radio hum throughout the car until they hit the limits of Toledo, when she turned it down and called Alexis again. "Hey, you there?"

"Yeah, sorry, we went to get some food. How does pizza sound?"

"Please tell me one of them is four cheese or something."

"Nope, all have chicken and pineapple on them."

Carol stares at the road and takes a slow inhale. "I'm within the city limits, are you guys ready for me to come back yet?"

"Oh yeah, sure. I just need to reconnect the projector to my computer if you want him to see the video."

Carol turns over to John and then back to the road. "Yeah, do that."

A few minutes pass before Carol pulls into Hadi's apartment complex parking lot. She leads John up to Hadi's apartment and introduces him to them, but tells him beforehand to call Alexis a she. The meeting between the three of them goes smoothly except for a small offhand comment, but they gather around in the living room with the projector and pizza taking up the entirety of the coffee table. Carol and Alexis explain the whole situation, including knowing about the mall, to John, allowing Hadi to input about the figure in the window while the video plays.

"What in the fuck... my sister is in the same building as... that?"

"Yeah, Alexis, is the original video still in your files?"

"Of course it is, give me a moment."

The original video plays on the white wall, repeating it a second time due to the short length the figure in the window preoccupied. John was sure he wanted to be a part of Carol's idea now. For two hours, the four of them built up the plan to enter the structure; John would hold down Carol's car, he'd call from Carol's phone to Alexis' phone every thirty minutes, and if he couldn't contact them, try three times in the next hour.

Alexis was confident of taking her usual load, three cameras, her laptop, and a first aid kit in her usual bicycling bag. Hadi would take his gun – a Springfield handgun – along with him, with a small bag of food and water. Carol, after a bit of convincing, decided she'll bring her taser and her long-range heavy-duty flashlight, and a bag for the phone, additional batteries for the taser and Alexis' laptop, and her own camera.
Chapter Twenty-One

Stale, bitter silence clings to the air, all things still except for limping steps over glass – mine. Nothing looks wrong - glass lies on the ground clean of blood, the dusty tiles only have marks of footsteps, the broken map display is bare of impact blood or puke. The center fountain still has its bullet marks but the carpet beneath it is a solid tan, I died there, but its unmarked. A finger slips through the hole that went through my lung, feels around the shaking and the shivering, and comes out with a 'pop' – bubbles of blood crawl down.

How could all of this happen.

Why did I even fucking try to come here, was it the phantom pulling that kept me from sleeping? I was doing so well, kept silent at the start but... then I just moved without care to the center. I was so fucking stupid, why did I even walk straight to the center when I knew that there were other people, and probably with a gang no less.

Wandering back to the first shop I stood, where I killed the helpless girl with a knife, carried her up the stairs in my arms, and left her in the dark. The knife goes through my skull twice, and I set it back into my arm when I'm able to stand. It wasn't me that killed her, I could never do something like that. But I did, I remember her screaming for help and slicing her over and over, cutting her hands into ribbons, leaving her above in silence. Her blood wasn't there, of course it wasn't.

The door is still locked, but I jiggle the handle for reassurance. If there was a way to get out, it can't be here, right? There must be another place to enter the building.

Yet I lean against it, count to ten, and begin to walk. Remembering fragments of my killer's conversation with the kid down in the basement; they were talking jokes, on the other side of the wall. I have to limp past the stacked chairs and to the directory board. I hold one side of it firmly then lay back against the broken glass and the hole my head made in it, cutting up my back. The fountain is just straight ahead, I focus on the broken up dust and glass on the floor and take steps towards it. It's still completely clean, the video camera sitting without a stain on it.

I turned it, several times until it was pointed at me with the hand I held over the hole in my chest. There was no way it was clean of blood too, but it was. I said to it I was sorry, that I was sorry about everything to Sarah. Why would I even say such a thing, why would she care?

This was where I died, so whatever brought me back was still here, doing whatever it did that kept me and all the people I... killed alive as well. Maybe here there is a way to end it. Do I shed my own blood on the carpet, will that satisfy whatever it is? Worth a try if it is or if it's not. I can't bleed out, so there is nothing for me to worry about until it ends.

Worrying about if it works, fuck it, I worry if it doesn't work. Death needs to happen.

The knife slides out of my arm and I stare down at it, preparing for the pain? I have no idea, and press the blade against my left wrist and hold them both out above the carpet. It presses, I pull, and the blood pours out like a waterfall. Dry heaves are all my stomach can handle, watching the blood pour pass my legs and sink against the floor, splattering and circling beneath me. I can still stand, even as the blood squirts and seeps down. My focus is only on the circle of blood beneath me, watching it flatten into a disk and begins to spin. The blood from my arm slows into droplets, but I am still standing, and the floor below me soaked.

The blood is twisting around itself, spiraling around my blood soaked shoes and tattered pants. But the shape, the spiraling shape, becomes pronounced as time passes. The rims of the spiraling pattern turn into arms, and they shrink at each revolution. Isn't this the same as the waving blood from the two that I got the knife from, when I moved them into another room?

I wait for it to sink away into the ground and left the carpet completely clean. Was this at the feet of every person that should be in all terms dead, but are sobbing and in pain behind a curtain of silence? Every one of the spots are in darkness though, and... some part of me can't risk pulling them out into the light to see if they have a spiral beneath their feet as well. The battery of whatever flashlights are probably dead as well, just like the kid below that is the only one that's found death. But the one teen, here's still here, I can talk to him, get his opinion.

But... I sliced a guy's eye open in front of him, and from his perspective I might as well been jerking off at the same time. Why, though, what brought me to do such a thing, and to assault those two girls, and attempt to eat one of their eyeballs.

The taste still lingers in my mouth. It's... it's been the only thing I've tasted besides constant copper in forever – how long has it really been? Oh god, I am such a fucking moron, the girl's laptop had the time and date on it.

Stumbling back over there takes a while, but stepping in blasts me with the teenager's droning on and the guy I smashed his face in moaning and attempting to shut the teenager up. I guess the both of them learned to accept it then, and the others might've too... they're becoming more like me. Too much like me.

I have to crawl around for the laptop, feeling around the glass and the gaping backpack for the fucking laptop. Where the fuck is it? It takes so long for me to find it, but I finally find it – but the battery ran out I suppose. Smashing the power button does nothing, only take up time. It can't be dead now. I... I need to know. How long have I been gone. What day is it. Is Sarah worrying, are the kids worrying?

Fuck, why won't this fucking thing turn on, come on, please. I need to know. Please, please, turn on. Bubbles of blood pour over my chest again and air bursts past the flesh of my throat. Please, turn on you fucking thing, you fucking piece of garbage. "P...lease," I croak, and the teenager and guy in the other room go silent. "Pl...ease," a rolling pain goes through my chest, "t..urn-on." Come on, turn on, "ple-aseuh. W-work." It can't be blood going down my face.

The teenager and the man are still quiet when I let the thing go.

Does the teenager have anything on him that can tell time? Or the man?

How would I even approach them, after what I've done to them and the girls. It was either... either the crushing feeling of being lost in time, or having a sense of how much I've lost since coming here – beside my own death and my... humanity. Could I really call it that at this point?

I pick the laptop back up and start dragging myself over to the back room, letting the walls guide me to where the quiet pair are lying. Bumping around is the only way to look for the room, since the flashlight the teenager had no doubt died out at this point, and they weren't making any sound. I have no concept of time any more, I have at least walked back and forth a couple times at this point, right?

Yet, by some fucking way I get into the same room as them – only knowing that I entered because one of them moved and rattled a bottle or something. "He...hey, kid," I choke out, looking off to the left where I'm pretty sure he still was. "Wh-what.... Is your-name?"

"Nick," the teenager says in front of me, "why the fuck are you here, eye-slicer?"

"I... I'm... sorry," I can feel the blood dripping down my chest again, and I step forward, paper moves in front of me, so I stop and crouch down, the laptop in one hand. "H...here, ta...take this." Where would his hands be, does he even know I am handing him something... so I lay it down on the floor and step back.

"What?" I can hear the teenager moving somewhere in the room, picking up the laptop maybe, or reaching for the pipe. In the back of my mind, there is an urge to take out the knife and cut his mouth wide open, cut down his chest and break each rib. Nick, the teenager, he picks something up, and freezes when the knife slips from my arm with a wet smack. The blade goes through my mouth and out the back of my head – blood dripping through the hair. But the thoughts of hurting him are gone now. "What the fuck dude."

"Sp... spi-rahls," the blade is still sticking from my mouth when I walk away, and out of earshot of the adult and Nick. Fluid still drips down my face and neck, letting the knife stick out my mouth and tongue press against the blade and splitting, more blood seeping downwards and onto the floor. Every couple steps, up to the window close to the entrance, I look back for my foot steps and the blood that dripped to the floor. It's following me, the spiral at my feet pulling blood down into the center. Nothing I can do about it, I can only wait now. Hopefully the driver of the dark car comes back, when she or he found a way to end all this, not become another one of this place's victims.

God, I'm not one to beg, but... let the driver be the one to end this.

For three days I wait in the window, still as a statue, staring around a small corner in the day and at a side at night. The lights are so bright in the distance and green and red lights wrap around a house in the distance. It must've been over a month, if the Christmas decorations are already up.

I hope Sarah is happy.
Chapter Twenty-Two

Each passing day for Alexis, Hadi, Carol, and John meant more people could be entering the structure, encountering whatever was using the place as its residence. Alexis spent less time listening in her classes, skipping a few near the end of the day. Hadi, still piecing together his assets, worked harder to push out thoughts surrounding the mall. Carol went on as usual, marking off the two days between their planning and the night they went to the mall. She calls all of them up around six pm on the 28th to make sure they are all ready to enter the building – and if they got any more information to share.

But, by the time they arrived at abandoned mall, there was nothing else more to add.

Carol was the first one to step out of the car, leaving the car in standby with the keys still in the ignition and pops the trunk. Hadi and Alexis each took a long look at the dark building before they got out, unsure of they were even in the right place. Both of them turn to Carol.

"Spooky place, right?" Carol laughs then tugs their three bags over the edge of the lip of the trunk. She rewraps her scarf around her face and beneath her bobbing hair, and motioning over to Hadi and Alexis. "I would say it's going to be exciting, but... it wouldn't be right."

"Yeah, I can tell," groans Alexis before lifting out a double-shoulder strap from the trunk and pulling it over her shoulders. Hadi pulls his bag out and the waist-mount holster for his gun, throwing the small bag over his shoulders and stepping back on the curb to secure the holster. Carol, done fiddling with her scarf, pulls up the hood of her coat and throws over her bag. Alexis struggles to connect the carrying case for two of the cameras on the harness, letting Carol hold up her backpack to put her arms through. "Thanks," she grumbles, still fussing around with the straps between the carrying case and the shoulder harness.

John lays across the back seat with his well-worn backpack tucked beneath the passenger's seat. Carol peaks in on him, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "Here, remember the plan?"

"Yeah, call up every half hour, and four times within an hour if there is no pickup. Any instructions on what to do afterwards?"

Carol looks down at the driver's seat for a moment and looks back up. "Call the police, since this time, there'd be some proof some crazy shit is going on in there. I'll give a quick call before we enter, so we won't be out of sync."

"Right," John sat up to take Carol's phone and tucks it in his pocket.

"I got it on low, if you want to change the volume, it's on the left side from the front." Carol clicks the master lock and the car gives a short clunky click, and she stands up with a gloved hand still on the door. "Got everything?" Hadi and Alexis give an assorted yes, so Carol slams the door and the lights inside click off. The bright screen of John's handheld console becomes the only light within the car and John remains lying on the back seat. Alexis slams the trunk and joins Hadi on the curb, followed by Carol shortly who walks past them and over the short wall – Hadi and Alexis follow close behind.

The three of them cut through the knee deep snow with re-paving steps, Carol making the first steps with Hadi and Alexis behind her. Winds batter them and kicks up loose snow around their legs, forcing them to move slower and in the direction with the wind. The large white rat stands in a mound of snow and the black scribbled door blends in with the overall stark darkness of the building, the bay door sits open, snow pushing against the walls and footsteps barely visible any more.

Beneath the overhang, they take a break away from the snow and rub off clumps of white from their boots and pants. Carol motions to Alexis for her phone, "side pocket, my right," and Alexis turns her back to Carol. She pulls her glove off her right hand and pins it underneath her left arm and fishes out the cell phone.

Carol stands against the wall of graffiti, tapping the head of her flashlight against the paneling while she waited for John to pick up. A few seconds pass before John picks up, "hey, we are at the bay door entrance now, you got the time?"

"Yeah," John half responds.

"What time is it in there," Carol crosses her flashlight below her right arm.

"Oh, uh," the rustling of John's clothing tells his movement. "It's 9:17."

"Alright, call back around 9:40, thanks again."

"No problem," and the call clicks to an end, and Carol stuffs the phone back into the side pocket.

A small sigh, and Carol turns to Hadi and Alexis. "We ready?"

"As much as I could ever be," Hadi looks away from the wall of graffiti.

"Good, then let's go," Carol passes both of them and eases herself down to the slope in front of the bay area. Her flashlight clicks on and illuminates the room full of snow and the trail of the door's path, a quarter sweep hidden in beneath fresh snow. Alexis and Hadi join her in the dark room, pulling out their own flashlights and making their own light trails against the wall. Carol, holding the handle to the only door in the room and her flashlight beaming down at the ground, takes a deep breath through the scarf, and opens the door.

She releases her breath into the dark service hall, flashing around the doors on the right and the corner ahead. Hadi and Alexis fit their way past her, their flashlights dancing along the corridor. "Well, nothing yet," Carol sighs, walking up to one of the doors and jiggles the door knob – nothing. Hadi and Alexis walk past her to test the other doors, and Carol finds a door into a stairwell. "Stairwell here," Carol looks back down the corridor.

"Got an unlocked door down here," calls Hadi at the end of the hall.

"All locked over here," Alexis calls from around the corner, her flashlight beaming along the wall over to Hadi. "Go through this one first, and stairs after a bit?"

"Sure," Carol shouts back then closes the stairwell door – it slams and the three of them flinch. "Shit, sorry," she whispers and nudges her light over to where Hadi stands in the doorway of an open door. Carol goes in first, followed by Alexis then Hadi who closes the door slowly, letting the door only tap itself close. They're standing in a kitchen area, a counter sitting halfway through the dusty room.

"And I thought Centralia was quiet," whispers Carol, flicking her flashlight around the floor and the few flat surfaces. Alexis pulls out her photography camera and starts taking pictures, and Hadi walks past the doorway into the rest of the room and stares at the busted glass scattered around the front. Carol pulls Alexis away from photographing long enough to walk out into the main room and looks around a bit. "Well, nothing so far," she starts walking back and pulls down on the door's latch. Letting go of it, she pulls down and tugs the handle with two hands. "Uh, Hadi, Alexis, I think the door locked on us."

"What?" Alexis looks away from a wall scrawled in a mural and over the registry counter, Hadi walks over and Carol lets him past. He pulls at the handle a few times, then kicks above the handle.

"Yeah, it's locked tight," Hadi pats his right hand over his pistol beneath his coat, "I guess we're stuck here until we find... whatever is going on."

"I bet it's a spirit," sneers Alexis, and Carol pulls her cross necklace out of her shirt and flashes it over to Alexis.

"I would be able to tell if it was a spirit," Carol stuffs the cross back into her shirt and adjusts her grip on her flashlight. "And if it was, I couldn't tell, because everything is cold already." She walks past Alexis and into the little bit brighter area of the mall. She stands there and lets the flashlight drag around the structure and listens to the fair whistling of the wind. Alexis comes over and taps her on the shoulder, Carol turns over to her.

"Why didn't you answer?"

"What?"

"I asked you what we should do now, but you just kept standing here."

"I heard nothing, seriously, I can barely hear the wind from here," Carol turns over to Hadi and shines her flashlight on him. His mouth moves, but nothing comes out until he steps within arm length of her.

"What did you do that for?"

"Where you trying to say something when I flashed you?"

"Yeah, why, you want to answer it?"

"To the question about what we should do now?" Carol looks into the far back of the room with the flashlight and takes two steps into it. "Can you hear me?" Alexis and Hadi just stare at her, and she walks back to them. Her right hand pulls on the chain holding the cross and rubs it, she stares at the ground for a moment and looks to both of them. "I said something in there, and neither of you heard it?" Both of them nod, and Carol looks off to her right and left.

"Should we search one shop at a time? Just to be sure," Hadi brings up, flashing his light over to the sealed doors of what would have at one time been a large chain store.

"Yeah. Let's look over on that side first, looks like the rest of it is off to the left." Carol kicks away broken glass and walks past the sealed front of another storefront. The three of them stand out in the middle of a four way path, looking between two blocks of closed stores, and Carol chooses the ones on the right. Inside the first one, they find nothing front to back, and Alexis walks over to the other one and she ran back into the first one.

"Carol, Hadi, oh thank god, you both are still here."

"Why would we leave? What's wrong," Carol walks over to Alexis, who stands bent over and her camera hanging from her left wrist.

"There was... there was something in the other room. I heard sobbing, and it was broken up by moaning and then more sobbing. But," she stands partly straight up, her hands still on her knees, "there was a circle of blood by one of the doors!" Carol looks up to Hadi, and Hadi pulls out his handgun and switches off the safety. He is the first to walk out off the room and the girls follow behind him. Alexis hides behind Carol, and they walk into the room watching Hadi walk towards the back, his flashlight focused on the expanding massive puddle of blood.

Carol trained her flashlight on Hadi, as he held his gun before him and walked around the corner and stalled, his gun lowers, and he looks over through Carol's light. "There... there's a guy here. He snaps his handgun back into its holster and holds a hand up to his mouth and pukes in a corner. Alexis doesn't move from behind Carol, and falls back when Carol steps into the twisting puddle of blood. She caresses her cross while she watches the blood twist and turn, spiraling into the center were two bloody shoes sit. Her flashlight rises over torn pants and exposed bone, over a bloody white shirt exposed by a torn up jacket, and Carol holds a hand in her mouth to keep from puking.

"Please," cries the small man, his arms limp at his sides, and Carol rises her flashlight over his face and turns it away. No eyes, she has to swallow down, and turns the light back over him. "Kill me, please, it hurts," he's sobbing without eyes, his cheeks torn to bone. Carol looks over at Hadi, who keeps off far from the massive puddle of blood Carol keeps standing in. "Kill me," he screams, blood pouring over his lips, "kill me or run! Before he comes for you, and pops your eyes too."

Carol steps through the puddle of blood and looks over to Alexis and Hadi, standing off and away from the open doorway. "Who? Who's the person that we should run from."

"The..." the teenager, Carol realizes now, it's the teenager she talked with, the one that lead her to the mall. "The reaper, he's come for us, all of us." Carol crouches beside him, and works her thumbs against his face. She starts to take a breath and looks away, her flashlight stuck beneath her arm.

"Vince?"

"Oh god, is it you Jessica? Why are you here!" His head moves side to side, Carol's gloves slide with the blood.

"No, I'm not Jessica." Carol has to look away, "I'm the black girl with the dark car, who asked how to get here... weeks ago."

"Why are you here. Where is Jessica, where is John, where is Kate and Bennie! Have you found Nick?" His face slides around in Carol's gloves and she lets his head go.

"John is safe. He's helping me and my crew –" she looks away again, thinking, and turns back," we're here to find out what is going on. I left that night with Jessica... but she came back alone – you, her, and Kate and the big guy are on the missing persons list." She pauses and almost touches her face with his blood. "You three have been missing for over a week. Who is the reaper, what does he look like?"

"Fucking, bloody all over, torn to shit. He came for me, he still came after me after Kate and Bennie jumped him – oh god, he was bleeding on me when he came for me. Over and over, he stabbed me with Kate's knife, the one she brought with her!"

"Do you remember any details of the reaper before he was jumped by them? Please, Vince, it's important."

"He was in torn clothing – like riddled with bullets torn! And he was covered with bloody clothing, like red head to toe – his face was smashed!"

"Vince, focus! Anything like hair, height," Carol looks over to Hadi and Alexis who are turned away, their backs to her.

"I don't fucking know, brown hair, had a few wrinkles, that's all I remember! Please, kill me, I don't want to be in darkness anymore..." Vince is sobbing again, his head leaning back on the refrigeration unit.

"I'm... I'm sorry Vince. If you saw how much blood you've been leaking... I can't say that you shouldn't be dead by now." Carol walks back out of the circling blood, her boots squishing as she walked back to Hadi and Alexis. "We need to find Jessica, and Nick, and the others."

Alexis checks her watch, "It's 10 now, should've he called?" She finches when Vince screams at them, "please, let's just get out of here, I don't want to be here anymore."

"Okay okay, we'll find a way out, and get the police," Carol backs out of the store front, Alexis mute inside the store. She waits for the both of them, and watches Alexis' face drain and a loud slap hits the ground behind Carol. She turns and just stares. A man without a shirt, torn to shreds and a knife sticking out of his arm lays quiet. Alexis and Hadi stand beside Carol, and Hadi pulls out his gun, then the guy moves and grabs the knife from his arm.
Chapter Twenty-Three

Away from this all-consuming silence, outside among the dense white and dark shadows, it came back. I watch it roll to a stop at the curb, the dark car of the dog-owning driver, and the driver gets out first. But, the driver is not alone anymore, two more people go out and walked to the rear of the car, as well as the driver. Bags were in the truck, one for each of them, throwing them over their backs and getting prepared to enter?

Are they really thinking that they'd get in here, that they'll get out?

I can't hear why they are saying – of course I can't.

The driver leans into the car for a little while, and slams the door, then the trunk, and the three of them stand outside of the dead ring of trees. The driver steps in first, the two other people follow behind. They're making their way to the entry door – they're actually coming in, I hope this means I'll die soon.

Silence still holds the building tight, and I step away from the window and closer to the rail overhanging the first floor. I wait for them, standing still for their voices and their beams to break the silence. A spiraling puddle forms at my feet, and I retain a statue form.

The first beacon of their arrival moves across the ceiling, the dusty hanging fabrics, and back to the first floor. "Why didn't you answer?" A male voice, young, teenager?

"What?" A female, the driver?

"I asked you what we should do now, but you just kept standing here."

"I heard nothing, seriously, I can barely hear the wind from here." So, they already figured out the rules of the silence – would they find anything though? The bright light turns away from my sight.

"What did you do that for?" Another man, older, Indian accent?

"Where you trying to say something when I flashed you?" The driver.

"Yeah, why, you want to answer it?"

"To the question about what we should do now?" The area is quiet, and someone steps on glass. "I said something in there, and neither of you heard it?"

"Should we search one shop at a time? Just to be sure," one of the men brings up and a light beams at the double doors of the two-floored store.

"Yeah. Let's look over on that side first, looks like the rest of it is off to the left," it's the driver again, and someone kicks glass away, and they walk into my view before the two-floored store. The driver is there in a dark coat and fluffed hood, a bag hangs off her back and a large flashlight is in her right hand, the skin of her face is dark – a deep tan? One of the men carries a large backpack and wears a jacket with internal fluff, long hair strung out the sides, before he turns away. The taller man keeps his back turned, and his right hand stays at his side. A gun?

The short kid is hidden in one of the stores, and they're walking to the two stores around it. How will it be explained to them, what are they going to do when they find him, do I stop them? How can I stop them, I must slice them, shut them up. The knife digs into my head again, and I twist the blade, falling back among the glass. Must not think of killing them, don't kill the driver, let them find an end to this. I need to let them go to find peace for everyone.

A scream breaks the silence and vanishes again – one of them found him.

Pain stabs again with the knife, pulling it from my head and stabbing in again. Let them find him, don't get up. I pull the knife out again to slice into my neck but... something prevents it from going in and it slides back into the hole on my arm. My body turns over, elbows dug into the dust and broken tile shards, head bent down and blood drips from my lips. A smile, twisting over oozing bullet holes and bruises, crawls over my lips and my body sits back, head to the ceiling. I must stay here, let them find the truth, no, stop moving, get back to my knees! The knife shrugs away into an open palm and I stab myself in the mouth, cut through my tongue and into the top of my head. Still, I must remain still for them to keep going.

But the knife slips back out in another hand, and jabs deep into the elbow of the left arm. I spit, bubbles drip among the red saliva. My feet are moving back to the railing. One hand presses away from it, the right one holds onto the dirty brown rail, and my body falls into a rhythm – back, forth, up, down, to the left, and forward against the right hand.

Blood in taste, a burst skull, I'm on the ground. Broken bones again, I can't see and the left hand clutches onto the handle of the knife. More pain in my skull, and a second gunshot rings my ears.

"Run!" the female screams, and a parade of glass breaks in their steps. I rise up, the knife in left hand, and stumble forward. The three of them are running to the center – oh please no, don't go there. Another step, dragging a broken right leg, more sheer pain, and I can only watch them stop on their way to the right. One of them shines their light on me and I stall, spitting blood and letting the knife dangle in my hand. Through the brightness, one of them went down into the fountain and grabbed something. The one shining the light shoots and misses, but the ring of it hammers into my head. It's my gun, one of them picked up my gun.

They vanish around the corner – now they're in the area of the teenager and the laptop.

As well as I could with a knife in my hand, I fall to the ground and pray.

Please let them be the ones to end it.

But my body still moves forward, a yearning for new blood stains my head and the knife won't penetrate again. Too far gone, I'm too far gone, and the spiraling blood follows my steps, I gradually lose the limp made by the fall, and my sight returns to how it was before. Regeneration, that was how I was kept alive for so long – is it also the reason I cannot die?

Though bones are still broken, and the pain fails to go away, my body still stumbles to the direction where the teenager waits.
Chapter Twenty-Four

Carol peeks her head around the corner and out of the shadows, listening to the silence with a dusty gun held up beside her. Nothing, and she leans back into the room where Hadi and Alexis sit back, still catching their breaths. "Doesn't look like it followed us," she heaves out air and wipes dust off the side of the gun. Hadi comes over and shows her how to put the safety on, and Alexis keeps in the back holding a camera also covered in dust.

"What the hell was that thing!"

"No idea," Carol exhales and tucks the gun away in the front pocket of her thick coat. "I think that was the Reaper, the guy Vince was talking about."

"You knew the guy in the other room?" Alexis fumbles for her own flashlight, and turns it against herself.

"Yeah, he was one of the people John was with when I first met him," Carol flashes her light over the room, "he's the person that pointed me here in the first place."

"Wasn't he with two other people?"

"Yeah, he was..." Carol walks towards the back of the room and nudges a door open with her foot. Alexis fumbles around with the camera with Hadi holding his flashlight against it, she presses against the power button but nothing happens. "Alexis, Hadi, let's hold up in here to look at it better. There has to be something on it."

"But what if he finds us?" Alexis slaps the view-finder on the camera close.

"The guy is limping like crazy after that fall, and Hadi shot him," Carol motions her flashlight over to Hadi, then turns it back down to the ground. "If every room has some kind of silence on it, he'd have to get all the way into here and in the same room to hear us. And this mall is a big place, come on," she lowers her voice and takes a step into a room in the back, then looks back for them to follow. Hadi takes a second before he walks over, Alexis following close behind him with a low sigh. The room was full of dust, the air smelled of paint shavings, and against one of the walls two sleeping bags laid on partly stained cardboard.

"Ugh, what a dump," Hadi held a hand up to his nose, blowing away dust kicked up by their footsteps. "People actually came here and decided to sleep?"

"Well, people have their own choices, or this is the best they can get – in some cases," Alexis drops her backpack down onto one of the sleeping bags and coughs from the dust kicked up by the impact. "Well, let's see if I could even get into it," She settles herself on the floor slowly, dust clinging to her wool gloves, and she sits up with her legs crossed over beneath her. Carol sat down on the floor and Hadi brushed dust off the other sleeping bag before sitting on it, his gun was still drawn.

Alexis prodded and examined the dusty camera with her flashlight staring down, it was held by Carol and her flashlight was across her lap. A little while passes before Alexis puts the camera down "thankfully this one is the same brand as one of my cameras," and she dug through her backpack for her laptop and wire. The laptop easily came out while the wire tangles around another wire, but comes out after a little bit of fussing. "Hadi, want to come over here?" She snaps the wire into her laptop as it boots up and into the port hidden under a rubber plug.

"I'm fine keeping guard," Hadi dashes his light to the girls then turns it to the doorway.

"Hadi, keep the light away from the door, it can be seen from outside."

"Oh, sorry," he turns the light off and scoots closer to Carol and Alexis, both crowding around the laptop as it connected to the camera.

The last file made was dated 20131101_1632, it was almost four hours long.

"Who ever owned it was walking around for a while."

"That's the date Victor... Lewis came here and disappeared. Could it be his?" Carol turns to Alexis, and back to the screen as an arrow drags the file to the desktop.

"If it is, it will have some answers," Hadi leans in behind Alexis, and Alexis pushes her legs out and sets the laptop over her knees. "Thanks," Hadi returns to his seated position.

"Now then," Alexis drags her finger across the touchpad, boosts the volume, and drags her fingers again to double tap the file 20131101_1632. The video starts by staring into a driver's seat then goes across to the hood as the person behind the camera crossed to the other side.

"Here it is the mall that closed six months after opening," the man speaks and a hand grabs a gun from the passenger seat and vanishes off screen. "It's been a week since I was here; it was only a survey though," the camera aims up to the sky and clothing rustles. "There were a few kids around last week; they probably won't start anything though. And I can get out even before they come back later tonight." The camera pans around the outside of the mall, with a small amount of snow in piles at the boarded up entrance; a car door slams. Plasterboard and graffiti takes up most of the shot. "As you can see, a lot of tags around here. There's more by the entrance I found on the other side of it." More graffiti and pale concrete walls.

"So far, no clue who this guy is," comments Hadi, sitting back away from Alexis' shoulder. "All he's filming so far is the outside of it – is that all it's gonna be?"

"I think that parking was horrendous. Carol, what do you think?" Alexis lowers the volume of the video, Carol remains silent and the volume crawls back up.

"There's one of these for each outside entrance, but they are covered in a black tarp on the inside probably." All the video shows is one of the observation windows. "Last week I saw some flashlights that the kids had with them moving around, so there is some way to get up to that area." More bare walls follow and the person walks faster, but someone else shouting slows him, and the camera zooms in on the bay door they came through.

"Hey, Carol, what time is it?"

Hadi clicks the safety on and tucks it away under his coat.

Carol pulls up the digital watch around her left wrist, and reads it aloud. "9:32."

The three of them watch in silent boredom, mostly just waiting for something to actually happen. A slam from the video shakes them from it, the camera sat on the ground and the man behind the cam was standing in view. The guy lifts the camera frontwards, letting the ground keep in sight while it was turned up right, "well, that was loud," the guy laughs, and Carol groans and shakes her head. He steps into the darkness behind the bay door and closed it slowly.

The three of them watch the video listlessly again, and Carol pulls Hadi's bag over and starts going through it. While the recorder talked about a room in whispers and two other voices laughed in the background, the three of them had biscuits and crackers. A directory flashes into view, "okay, so there's an entrance to an underground garage. Maybe that's where the 'elders' are," and the camera turns back over to the fountain Alexis picked the camera up from. "Damn, must be a party here every week with this much shit lying around," and he laughs, and in the distance more glass cracks, "shit," the camera jolts around before stopping and turning away behind the person holding the camera – two young men were walking towards him, one of them played around with a knife.

"Is this guy fucking crazy?" Alexis grumbles through some crackers she stuffed in her mouth. "One for going in alone, when he knew other people were in there."

The camera turns back to the fountain and its focus bounces back and forth, almost distorting. Broken bottles sitting on the ring of the fountain, bullet holes dashed across it, and the guy moves the camera forward and starts to walk. "Oh man, that's a good use," he's speaking loudly, the footsteps far behind him stop, and his footsteps increase in pace, the video rushing towards the fountain.

"What?" Hadi leans over, "what in the fuck is this guy doing?"

"I have no idea," Carol mumbles, her eyes glued to the video.

The camera kept moving around and then stops, aimed towards the fountain, and a circle distorts the video a bit. "Dude, what the fuck are you doing here." Yells someone behind the camera.

"Taking a photo," the cameraman responds.

"This won't go well," whispers Alexis.

"Yeah," groans Hadi.

"You're taking a picture of a fountain you moron. K, what in the fuck.," says another voice, probably the other person behind the cameraman.

"I have no clue. Yo." The first voice that wasn't the cameraman, K, " get out of here before you get hurt." The cameraman is silent. "Are you fucking listening?"

The camera drops onto the ground and rolls away facing a short set of stairs. "Woah woah," the cameraman, "don't try anything, I got the same right to be here as you."

"We were here first," the person that came with K, "he said get out, I suggest you quit with your shit before you get cut."

Alexis squints at the screen, "Wait, is the cameraman gonna ge-"

"Shit, shit, dude chill the fuck out," it was K.

"Hey, we cool now, right?" the other guy with K.

"Wait, did he just pull his gun on them?" Hadi puts down his food.

And then a fight erupts, began with one of them being pulled to the floor. A gun clicks, but no shot. "Chip!" screamed the person called K, and two people grunt and a metal object smacks flesh. "Let go of the gun!" A body hits the ground closer to the camera, and two people were still struggling. Carol, Alexis, and Hadi had their food down on the lap or leg at this point, then a gun clicks one, no shot, but a second click follows up with a loud crack. All rustling movement stops, but someone is gurgling blood off screen. A gun drops to the ground.

"Holy shit K, what did you do?"

The coughing, choking, spitting came closer to the camera – Alexis held a hand up to her mouth as the camera started flicking to the left, and a part of the lens smudges with blood. It was a vomiting, bloody chested man with dark hair and green eyes. The creases around his mouth are full of blood, and around his eyes rivers of red ran around them.

"Oh my god," whispered Carol.

"Sarah, I'm so sorry," the man spat blood and rolled to his back.

"It's Victor Lewis, this is his camera."

"Sh-shit," Victor coughed again and the camera laid uncomfortably close to his head, his left hand still in shot. His breathing slowed, the two people that witnessed his death sat past Victor's leg.

"Dude, you shot a man... you killed a guy!" shouted the smaller one, his face puffy with bruises, and he stood and sat on a bench. "Holy shit, you shot someone." His head falls into his hands and K, the other guy, kicks the gun away and throws a knife into the darkness. Then there was nothing but sobbing.

"Well... I guess we know what happened to Victor now..." chokes out Alexis with her hands over her eyes. "God, but where is his body? Why was the area clean of blood?"

"I have no clue, but there has to be some explanation!" Hadi begins to stand, crumpling a plastic bag between his hands and covering his mouth.

"You fucking shot him!" A glass bottle breaks in the video, thrown by the second person, Chip. "Let's just, fuck, not talk about this, never come here again, maybe?"

"The fucking monthly meet up is tomorrow, chip! What the fuck am I suppose to say when they see fucking blood and a body here."

"I don't know jackass!"

The video flickers and a third voice groans, and Hadi leans back down, and fall to his knees. Victor, who had died right on camera, rolled over in front of the camera, blood pouring everywhere, the video flickers again. His arms push against the ground and he vomits, and then more blood comes out of a wound in his chest. Blood ran so thick a good bit of the video's bottom filled with blood, and it splashes against it, and its spat on. "I'm..." Victor pukes again, left hacking an gasping, and the blood on the screen rolls off. He's laying head down in front of the camera, his head in his folded arms – then he sits up fully, blood stretching down his cheeks, his mouth, his arms, and a large rush oozes from his chest. His head is turned up to an arm he rose out of shot and it hung there for a few seconds.

"What. The. Fuck," Hadi and Carol groan at the same time.

"How is he still alive!" Alexis screams, her hands falling from her face as the video played out Victor screaming, digging fingers into the bullet wound on his chest. He starts chanting, the video glitches with every chant.

But it is only "help me" over and over again, while he rose to his feet, turned around to the people behind him, and started walking with a limp. The two men ran off screaming, and Victor fell on his knees and vomited. His head turned to the sky, sobbing. Alexis skips through the rest of the video, but only the blood changes, sapping from the lens and it left the ground free of blood.

"Okay, what in the fuck," Hadi stands up and walks away, Alexis closed the video player and slammed the laptop, pulling the wire free from her computer and kicked the camera across the ground. Carol picked it back off the floor.

"Carol, what the fuck are you doing?" Alexis screeches, forcing the laptop into her backpack. "Leave that thing there!"

Hadi stopped his short burst of pacing, "Carol, what time is it?"

Carol turns her watch over to her face, "10:24. He should've called."

Alexis fishes the cell phone out and rings Carol's cell phone quickly. "John, if you are still there you sexist piece of shit, pick up!" the phone doesn't connect. She tries one more time, "Pick up!" Nothing again, and she tries a few more times.

"Alexis, is there any bars?"

"No," Alexis tries calling again, Carol pulls it from her grasp.

"Then it's no use calling," Carol opens her mouth to say something else but glass cracks in another part of the room – Hadi pulls his gun out again. But the glass breaking steps stop after a few seconds, and Carol gets up.

"Carol, what the hell are you doing!" whispers Alexis, stuffing the wire into her bag.

"I'm checking to see if it was him," Carol looks back at Alexis and pulls out the dusty gun, and looks at it before aiming it down the hallway.

"Carol!" Hadi calls after her as she went out of the room, taking careful steps to the open doorway carpeted in broken glass. He was standing far outside the doorway, looking at her, and she stared back with the gun aimed high.

"Victor?" Carol whispers as she stepped outside the room slowly, letting Alexis and Hadi's calls for her vanish. Victor, completely torn with seeping wounds and a blade stuck deep into his head, raised a hand and pointed to a store across the mall partly covered in plasterboard.

"G..." blood bubbled down his chin, through the deep gash in his throat, and the bullet wound in his left chest. "Go..." more blood came, and his hand fell downwards. "There." Then he started walking, away past the fountain she saw him die by, and into a deeper shadow.
Chapter Twenty-Five

The knife digs its way through my head, wedging amongst the bits of shotgun shatters and skull fractures. It just sits between my eyes and the handle sits barely in sight. They found them, the camera and my gun. How long will it be until they watch it, what will they do with it; are they going to do now, that they know that I died, and only I was able to walk again?

They spent a lot of time in the room with the chubby kid, the... the kid I first sliced his eyes opens. If I had anything in my torn up stomach, anything like food, I've would've thrown up by now – but the bleeding takes care of that. Blood puddles are still forming underfoot, and I can only watch them roll into circling lines, shrinking into the broken tiles.

Why?

What drove me to do those things; was it the thing that brought me back, healed my wounds, drove me on? Sarah, oh god do I miss her, her and the kids - but only now do I remember her. And didn't I promise to keep going that day I got myself shot with my own gun; Is that how this thing keeps control of me by promising me happiness? I need to tell them, warn them, with the laptop of the girl I tasted her eye.

I want to puke.

Would her laptop still have enough life in it to type up more for them to read. How will I get them to find it, would they find the teenager – could he talk to them? So close to finding the end of this, I'm so close to having my permanent death for real this time. The knife wiggles around in my head, a hand twisting it through and breaking up bone. Retaining control, keep away the urge to keep going. I don't miss Sarah. Not anymore.

The three of them, they must have found a place to hide out with my camera and my gun. At least they will now what happened here, much more than anyone else besides the kid in the basement. I'm glad he got out of this fate – what happened to the other one? Did he die, did he get out of town? Questions – something I need to write down on the laptop still lying on the girl's backpack and in the fractures of glass, beside the dust covered chairs pulled in from another part of the mall.

Why is it not here!

Down on bleeding knees, pushing around mounds of dust, dirt, and glass, throwing the backpack away into the light, I feel more than warmth roll from the gash in my head. Where did it go, it should still be here – what happened to it? Did they already find it, was it someone else, did another person pick it up and carry it off. Was that person lying in a room in a spiral of blood? God FUCKING damnit, it was my only chance to talk straight with them, to the driver of the dark car. I fell into a ball, letting glass scratch across skin and embed, the handle pressing against the ground and twisting and getting stuck in its twist. Arms coil at the sides of the knife handle and entangle in the knots and mats sticking on my scalp – what was I going to do, what was I going to do, how was I going to talk to them.

What about the teen in the next room. He could hear everything that went on in this part, but would he even be willing to talk with me now, after all that I put him through and forced him to see?

It was only a chance, and I stay lying on the floor. Cursing and blaming myself, how stupid I am for coming in here, for taking interest in the mall, to divorce Sarah, from getting an expensive camera I wanted to take pictures with. Moving here, forcing them here with me, abandoning them, I miss them so much, why did I have to fuck everything up?

The knife was sliding from my forehead and the butt leaned against the floor. I pushed my head forward and buried the knife through the slowly sealing hole and one ear, feeling for the prick of the dulling tip with two fingers. Yes, it's secure now, and I can talk with the teen still – a lot better than when I shoved the knife through my mouth. But, getting up of the ground, its near impossible – why should I even try? Still, their lives and everyone's death hinges on what they do, and I'm so close to getting them to listen!

Pushing away from the puddle of fluid that pooled and brushing away the scattered contents of the backpack, I get to my feet and head to the side room. It's silent, but I can hear the teenager's breathing, slow and steady, almost as if he was sleeping. The guy on the floor, with one eye popped just lies still in broken mumbles, and a crying sound rose from him as I stood in the doorway. "N-Niiiick," I croaked and stumbled in, staring into the darkness. "Can yo-ou remember. Wa-what I s-ay?"

The teenager doesn't say anything, but clothing rustles and something heavy rolls across the concrete. For a few seconds, I just stood there, waiting for an answer he obliges to answer. "Sure, whatever fucking psycho."

"G-goooood." I hope he can't see the smile on my face. "There is threeeeeeeee peo-ple. Theeey came to," a pause to spit out a chunk of clotted blood. "To eeeeend thiiiis." I pause to let him speak; he doesn't and I continue. "One giiiirl, two booooys. They aaaaave my gun, and camerah. I will leeead them here – answer them. And ask... ask them about K."

"K? You fucking want to know about K. He fucking wussed out at the start of the month! Are you the fucker that pulled a gun on him - that's why he left, and Chip vanished."

"He killed me..." I force air into my chest and out the original bullet wound. "And Chiiiip, is in the basement-"

"What? Oh you sonuva-!"

"He's d-dead, cooompletly."

Silence now, except for the weak whines of the guy in the center of the room.

"They'll be here... sooon. Show...it to theeem." I limp my way out of the room, out into the still mall, and start searching for them. The first one, and the second, there is nothing, but in the third I hear mumbling, and it cuts off as glass crackles beneath my feet. Here, they hid in here. I walk out, pushing the knife back into my head, and wait in-between that shop and where the teenager waited. A while passed where nothing happened – I thought they'd forgotten it as an animal, but someone walks out with a dusty gun drawn; it's mine.

"Victor?" It was the driver of the dark car. She was padded in a thick dark jacket with a fluffed hood, scarf hung around her dark face, the gun was raised well enough with the fluffy gloves.

One hand rose to where the teenager laid in wait. "G..." So close to ending all of this, I wish I could say more with this fucking gash in my throat. "Go...there." Walk away, give them more space – I need to say sorry to everyone, and let them get ready for whatever will happen now.

I hope none of them die.
Chapter Twenty-Six

A hand fell onto Carol's shoulder, turning her around to face Alexis, "Carol, what were you thinking!" Carol shook off her hand and slid her fingers to the barrel of Victor's gun.

"I was just..." she watches Hadi scan the area, then turns back to Alexis. "We need to gather our stuff, he... it told me we need to go there," she motions to the open storefront window. Alexis' face scrunches for a few seconds.

"Why?"

"It told me to go there, it's Victor, the guy that was on the camera," Carol holds up the dusty pistol, "I think this is his too." Both women turn to Hadi when he walks back to them, turning once to the fountain. "Hadi, it wanted us to go in that storefront – think it could be a trap?"

"Eh, I don't think so. He left you alone right?" Carol nods.

"So, we need to pick everything up and move them again?" Alexis groans, turning around and walking.

"Wait! No, maybe not. What if we leave everything there and check it out? We're the only ones here," a stale silence falls around them and Carol sighs, "ignore that," and steps around a pile of glass. Alexis rubs a hand over her cheek then looks over to Hadi who just shrugs – Carol steps out of the shadows of the storefront. "Two people here," and sinks back.

Alexis left herself in the front, picking up the torn and scattered contents of a backpack left there, trying to ignore the sobbing coming from the backroom. Hadi and Carol went towards the back, letting a light guide them into a doorframe missing a door. Carol took her spot in the front, flickering the light from the legs visible in the doorway to a bloody teenager holding a laptop and a pipe. Beneath him swirled a pool of his own blood.

"Who the fuck are you," shouted the teen, knocking the pipe against the plaster walls.

"Carol, and – " she looked back and Hadi left her alone," well, me and two others. What's your name?"

The teen groaned, knocking his head back against the wall twice. "Nick, is the monster dead yet?" Carol hadn't heard the last part, her face twisting between regret and the choking in the back of her throat.

"Nick as in Nick Wheatly?" A stillness thumping to the sound of the other man's whimpering breaks between them.

"Yeah... why?"

"I... um, I really don't know how to say this, but, your friends were looking for you."

"What?" spoken barely above a whisper.

"Kate, Bennie, Jessica, and Vince, they went looking for you."

"Well, I guess they didn't find me," he groans. Carol stomps over and kneels on the ground in front of him but not in the pool of blood.

"No, they went looking for you, here. Vince is missing his eyes." Nick stares and the pipe rolls between his leg and the wall. "Kate, Bennie, and Vince were looking for you, here, and I found Vince without his fucking eyes. Jessica, I don't know where she is, but I think she may've come here as well. Have you had any contact with her?"

"I- no! The only people I've ever talked to was that fuckface over there that broke my ribs and face, and the goddamn monster that left me here! Why aren't you looking for her, if you know so goddamn much?"

"Because that 'monster' pointed me here."

"Do you have any idea on what the thing did. It just came in here and fucked that douche over there up, and it left me to die in here with no so much as an attempt to help me! Then it fucking comes in here, sits on the guys chest, and slits - fucking cuts the guys eye open. His fucking eye. And it was _smiling_. Smiling at me after it cuts that guys eye open, like he was jerking off at the same time!" Behind her flashlight Carol pulls at her lower lip with her teeth, her forehead scrunched and muscles pulled tight. "It had the gull – _the fucking gull_ – to say it's sorry! After I heard it kill two girls, and all it gave me as a 'sorry for fucking your life up' gift is this laptop that doesn't fucking work!" While the laptop drips blood, Nick slams it against the concrete wall twice then drops it, his head back against the corner. He took a sharp breath, rolling an arm over his broken nose and the deep purple bruising on his forehead.

"I..." Carol falls onto her ass and rolls her flashlight between both hands.

"What? Are you going to say anything about it? Why isn't the monster _fucking dead_!"

"Because it's a person that died here too!"

For a while, besides the seldom movements of the man lying away from Carol and Nick, the circle of blood around Nick is the only thing making sounds – sliding down the crumbled hinge of the laptop, around the side of the pipe that rolled into its path, only to vanish beneath Nick's broken left leg. "Listen, Nick, let me just tell you everything I know... and I want to show you something."

Within around ten minutes she goes over; the disappearance of Victor Lewis, meeting his friends, leaving with John and Jessica, and the last four days. Bringing Tilly to investigate the outside of the mall, going over the footage, recruiting John, and running away into a store opposite of this one. When Nick asks "why did it lead you here?" All she can answer is with a few broken moments of silence before she leaves the room. Carol comes back a few minutes later with Victor's dusty camcorder. She previews the video, skips past the beginning, and then hands it to Nick.

He drops into the spiraling blood beneath him a few minutes later.

"How the fuck..." Carol scoops the camcorder from the blood, holding it from the top and watches, through the light of her flashlight, as the blood peels itself away from it. "That monster, that thing was once a person?"

"Yeah, but. I don't know what it wants."

"It gave me this," he holds the laptop up to Carol, and Hadi walks around from outside the room and takes it away. "Who-"

"Hadi, friend of mine," Carol lets the camcorder lay down on its side. "Uha," she goes back to silence. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"Just," Nick's fingers intertwine above his mouth, and the palms run up over his eyes. "Just find Jessica, and tell me when you do, or bring her here. Please."

"Alright. I'll... I'll come back and tell you when we find her, I promise," her heavy flashlight clanked against the ground and Carol stepped into the spiraling blood, pushing her hands around nick. He only patted her on the back, and she reaches into her pocket for a handheld flashlight she took from Alexis' bag.

"I'm fine in the dark," she held his right shoulder and stared, "don't worry, just find Jess." Carol pulled herself back and sat on her ankles.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he had his elbows resting on his legs, and his hands rolled over his face again. Carol left him in the dark, but let herself stand in the doorway for a few more seconds, and walked outside the storefront's broken window.

Alexis and Hadi sat in the median on a concrete square with a dirt center and the red-stained laptop sat across from Alexis, who dug into a backpack. Hadi stood guard, watching in the direction of the fountain and panning behind and above to the overhanging walkways. Carol removed her gloves and sat them besides the laptop, standing with her hands dug deep into her coat. "Well," she started, and neither of them answered.

Carol looked down to her bloody pants and shoes, letting out a partial sigh before looking away to the storefront. The bloody footprints she left drained back into the room, crawling around the glass leaving red tints on the side that too fade away. One hand crawls up to her neckline and fishes out the cross necklace.

"Carol." Hadi stood on the other side of the concrete wall, and waved his gun in the direction of the streaming blood. "Care to explain?"

"The blood? I have no idea why it's doing that," Carol tucks the cross necklace under her coat, "but when I was in there, it seemed to just... vanish into the floor after circling for a while."

"Almost like a drain?" Alexis zipped the backpack from the storefront up, a backup laptop battery in her lap.

"Yeah," Carol sits down on the concrete ledge, and Alexis only eyes the still dripping laptop with unsteady eyes before looking away. "I can replace the battery Alexis, you don't have to do it." Alexis shook her head in Carol's direction but didn't look down at the laptop.

"Well, since we have some time to ourselves," Hadi's footsteps crackle against the glass, stopping beside the concrete square they sat on, "should we figure out what to do with this thing; kill it or..." he trails off and looks at Carol, she stares back. "Have you tried calling him again?"

"John? No, there's no connection in here, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Hadi turns away from the both of them, tucking his gun away while watching the blood dripping off the concrete rolls into the open storefront. Carol sighs and lies on the concrete behind him, and Alexis has her back to the both of them. Hadi steps in front of one of the moving blood streams – it slowly makes its way around his boot. "Okay, so any ideas on... local urban legends?"

"The Devil's Vortex, what was sprayed on the one door. That's all I know." Carol sat up.

"Remember any of it?" He turns to her.

"Ah, shit, let me think," she swung her legs back over the side, "mostly that the building was constructed, gross smell, water lines broke; that's about it that I remember hearing." Hadi crouches down beside the trailing blood.

"How crazy does the idea of an entity sound?"

"Pretty crazy," Alexis taps her shoes against the glass, "is the blood gone?"

"Nope. I can still put it in," Carol scoots over beside Alexis and reaches at the battery, which buries inside Alexis' coat sleeve. "Okay, fine, but it may take a while and there could be some important info on it," the 'it' extends into an 'iiit', and Alexis glances over at Carol.

"Carol," Hadi stood up.

"Yeah?"

"Wasn't the first guy –"

"Vince."

"Wasn't Vince circled by the same... spiraling blood pattern?"

"Yeah, he was."

"What if those being there is what's keeping them alive?"

For nearly a minute the Mall returns to its own tempo of still, stale silence, with only distant crackles and shambling filling the air around them. None of them move, and Alexis flinches when a loud smack echoes through the dark corners. "What in the hell was that?"

With a 'sssh' from Carol, she takes out the dusty pistol from her coat pocket and sweep the shadows for Victor – Carol's hand is shaking. No other sound comes from outside their zone, and slowly, with one hand still on the pocket and holster, they gather around the concrete block.

"Okay, so," Hadi wipes his nose, "what if those... spiraling blood patterns were what kept them alive. There can't really be any other way to explain it, right?"

Alexis nods, but Carol bites at her lip, "but how many people are – well – still alive?"

"You'd have to ask Frankenstein that. Question, was there anything different when he pointed you to the storefront? Posture, speaking pattern, whatever."

"Besides the huge fuck-off knife sticking from his head, no – since he's bleeding from fucking everywhere! I mean, he has that bullet wound; but he has gashes like a cut across his throat, part of his face is almost black with bruising – not to mention all the little holes all over him. If we didn't know it was once a HE, I'd be sure it was a zo-" A dry heave rises up Alexis' throat and Carol turns to her. "Sorry Alexis. How's the battery and laptop?"

Through her left hand, looking at Carol, she picks up the laptop with her right. "Ugh, clean I think. No more... blood dripping from it." Flipping the laptop over, she snaps the battery locks open and pulls it out, sliding the spare battery into the bottom and flipping it back over. "Give me a moment to figure this one out, okay?"

"Alright," Carol swings back around towards Hadi, "Could him having the knife in his... well, head, really change anything?"

"I don't know, but there's no one else that could've done it. It's tough enough to cut through bone, but with a knife like that? He'd have to do it to himself."

Carol laid her head down in her hands, staring at the ground for a few seconds, turns to Hadi, and Alexis stands and sits between them. "Got in."

"Good, anything on there?"

"Nothing a high schooler wouldn't have. Homework, boys... hm, a folder of scarves. There's a new text file on the desktop. Should I open it?" Alexis glances to her right and flinches when Carol's chin rests on her shoulder. "Uh, a yes, I guess."

Hadi sits behind Alexis, and she scrolls the mouse over the single text file and single clicks, waits, then double clicks. It opens.

I am victor lewis

please kill me

I don't want to hurt more

Hadi and Alexis, their faces torn in wrinkles, look over the Carol, and she stares at the small lines of text. "So," she heaves out then looks to them, "what should we do?"

"Kill... him I guess?" Alexis flips over the laptop and closes it in a single motion.

"But how," trailing off, Carol stands up from her spot on the concrete and walks back into the storefront they kept their things, Alexis and Hadi unmoving behind her. She watched last video on Victor's camera, replaying the portion between the gun being drawn and the first minute of straight sobbing. Bullets won't work, neither would bleeding or a knife – would burning work, or a special remedy?

Carol said nothing when Alexis came in to check on her, sitting down beside but not looking at the looping video camera held in Carol's shivering hands. Alexis placed her hands on Carol, and she snapped the view-finder close – it gave Alexis a hell of a startle. "Carol," Alexis wasn't granted a response; so she shook Carol's hands. Carol brushed them away. "Carol, talk to me."

"I'm thinking of something," her head faces the camcorder – and slowly opens the view finder only for Alexis to yank it from her hands. "Hey!"

"Carol, stop watching that video! What the hell has come over you."

"Nothing, okay. I'm just trying to come up with some sort of plan."

"Yeah, okay, but Hadi thinks we should look for the others."

Carol bites her upper lip and looks away to the far wall, rolling her elbows up onto her rising knees. No response, and Alexis takes the camcorder out of earshot. Inside her head, Carol replays the video and the words of Vince and Nick; how many of the other missing people had a similar encounter like them, and why did Victor point her to Nick – why did he leave her alone? Possession, it was an idea she toyed with, and applied it. To Nick's vicious screaming, that Victor had said sorry to him, that Victor pointed her to Nick's location, and the _video_.

Planting her boots square into the floor tiles, she picked herself up and walked out to Hadi and Alexis with a sharp tugging at her heart. "Hadi, what do you think you and Alexis should do?"

"Try to look for the others; what are you planning to do, Carol," under the hood of his coat, Carol could see the frowning on his face and a sharp gaze like what she saw on the other side of prison bars in Erie.

"I'm going to talk with Victor – I think he might be possessed."
Chapter Twenty-Seven

A heavy weight fell around my heart, digging gorges through burst veins and shattered ribs, as I wrap my hands around the wrists of a young woman, her eyes stained shut by tears and smeared blood. Dead weight; that's all she was aside from the occasional sniffles broken by sobs. Even when I attempted to speak she laid silent, letting glass and dust to tangle into her hair as she drags over the floor. I don't know her name, thinking to myself again, too much of a coward to ask for her name, or even why she came here so many days ago. Her body, still bleeding, feed what kept me, her, and so many other victims alive, but her soul was dead – she was hollow.

Knocking my head into a display stand shook the knife lodged in my skull, digging again into my brain. Another squirt of blood shot out and rolled onto the floor, following the trail left by the broken girl's empty body. However easy it was to pick her up; holding one arm beneath her chest and another beneath the arch of her knees – it didn't feel that way inside, and I dropped her down to the floor below. Her body echoed a loud smack against the concrete and glass. Surely it was loud enough to get the attention of the three still hanging around.

But, do I drop the two girls from the store above Nick's... resting place – will they fall on their heads? One hand grabs the handle of the knife, pulls back, and thrusts it back inside two times, digging it in beneath my right ear. No, don't think of that – not all of them would be that hard to find.

The two girls, one that I. I don't want to think about what I did. How where they doing, what were they doing in their own peace of silence with each other? Should I even try to speak to them, or should I stay away, point them out to the three still wandering about. Not much still exists to spell out – not even blood since it moves with a mind of its own. Wooden arrows to point them out? Would that be a bit much, when they can just search the place.

I heard an echo of their talks, but not close enough to listen in.

There was a bit of yelling – I heard that much – about irresponsibility and other things I didn't have much care for. Now, for me, I can't save anyone, but I can point out their bodies – souls broken or not.

Shambling over Nick's resting place, I heard snippets of their shouts, but then silence when I entered the darkness the two young girls laid together, in shock silence of my presence. I heard one of them whispering to the other – nothing I had any need of hearing. Beside the spiral puddle of their mixing blood laid dusty stacks of wood, long enough to stand from floor to ceiling. I approached and they went silent, their remaining eyes fixed to my movements when I knelt down for one piece of wood and dragged it outside of their bubble – I might as well be a bubble. It was quiet again, and I pulled one end of the piece of wood over the portion of rail. Good enough, it'd at least attract some attention to it.

Limping back to the center of the mall, words running through my head, I watched two shadows disappear down a flight of stairs. A small sigh of relief, those down there would be found, and I didn't have to point them out. But, the driver of the dark car walked along the dry fountain, kneeling down on the carpet.

A thought crossed my ill mind. Why don't I meet her? A succession of jabs quieted the voice, and blood drizzled down the side of my face.

What would I even say about all this.

Would she know what to do about this, about me?

I can hardly talk – do I let her do the talking with a shaky nod or a bloody hand for a yes or no – or... should I even speak?

Either way. I have to face her and end all of this – for me and everyone caught in this hell between life and death. I plunge myself over the rails and land on my face and side. It's another echoing smack and I hear her in the slight distance, The safety clicks.

Silence, and then crunching glass.

"Victor?" She starts, "I know you're in there. I've seen the video. I know what happened."

"G-goooooood," my body groans as I push way from the floor – knife still dug deep into my head. Her face is still surrounded by the fuzz of her jacket, and one hand holds a cross necklace tight – the other holds the gun. "Puh....end it," comes out in a gurgle, and I sit kneeled on the floor, one hand on the knife handle. I pull it out and dig it back in, scratching against skull bones for it to lock. She says nothing. Through the ever changing focus of my eyes I watch her cringe while I handle the knife, clutching to the cross necklace tight.

"Victor. Yes or no, do you hear what I am saying?"

"Yeeeeeessss," the hand on the knife drops down and crosses the stream of blood leaking from my neck and chest, a finger digs into the single bullet wound that killed me first. "Tehiiiiiiiiis is wheeeeereeeeeee I wasss shot. Wiiith mai own gunnnnn." A sputtering cough makes her step back, and a spiral of blood circles around me – I watch it brush past broken glass. "Hooow did youuuu know... I waaaasss here?"

"A relative or a friend. They – " she swallows her words, " they had fliers for you, and we used the same forum..." she swallows again – is she not telling me something? "We saw your thread, and connected the pieces last week. And the people that went missing, and, and we figured it out from there." Silence, between the both of us. I don't move.

"Whaat's... your name?"

"Carol, Carol Tyler. Where you the shadow in the window, a few days ago?"

"Eyes" it forces out another cough.

"Are you the only one that can... walk around?"

"Yes," barely above a whisper.
Chapter Twenty-Eight

"Carol, I don't think that's a-"  
"I know, Hadi, it's a stupid idea. But I can't shake the feeling that there's something else at work here, and Victor is possessed by whatever it could be," and Carol watches in silence as Hadi picks himself off the concrete block. "You two could look for anyone else that may be here - I'll talk to him myself."

As Hadi walks over a heavy sigh escapes him, placing his hands onto her shoulders. "Just be careful, Carol." Carol nods, a phantom feeling tugging at her heart as Hadi and Alexis collect themselves and walk off into the darkness, Alex's light illuminating their pathway to the belowground parking lot. She stands alone for a few more seconds, clutching her cross necklace beneath her jacket before she turns back to the dry fountain in the middle of the mall. Then she walks, taking deep breathes to steady her mind until she stands on the once stained carpet and kneels - one hand brushing against a dark spot. Off to one side there is the crunching of bone and meat hitting tile. Carol freezes; running her finger across the safety.

Her breathing shakes before she swallows the fear back down into her chest, turning over her shoulder to stare at the body lying a couple feet away. "Victor?" she takes another deep breath. "I know you're in there. I've seen the video. I know what happened." The breathing corpse struggles to stand, a groaning 'good' replies, and slowly it rises up to a kneeling position.

"Puh...end it," the corpse gurgles, blood oozing out of the gash across its throat with each heaving breath. A hand rises to the handle of the knife embedded deep into its skull and pulls it out only to thrust it back in - the scratching of metal on bone cuts through the air. The knuckles curled around the cross necklace are white; a panic crawls up her spine and she pushes it back.

"Victor. Yes or no, do you hear what I am saying?"

"Yeeeeeessss," crawls from the back of Victor's throat; a mangled finger rises to his chest and picks at a bullet hole, "Thiiiiiiiiis is wheeeeereeeeeee I wasss shot. Wiiith mai own gunnnnn," and sputters of blood shoot out of his mouth. Carol covers her own as she steps back, watching the blood that drips down off the various wounds turn into a spiral beneath his feet. "Hooow did youuuu know... I waaaasss here?"

"A relative or a friend. They -" she fight against her need to vomit by swallowing hard, "they had fliers for you, and we used the same forum..." another suppressing of vomit "We saw your thread, and connected the pieces last week. And the people that went missing, and, and we figured it out from there." The hand that once held the cross lies against the base of her neck.

"Whaat's ... your name?"

"Carol, Carol Tyler. Where you the shadow in the window, a few days ago?" A gurgling 'yes' replies. "Are you the only one that can ... walk around?" A straight 'yes', clearer than anything else before.

This time Carol cannot hold back any longer, turning away to eject her stomach onto the carpet. For a couple seconds only the retching of her puking fills the air, the walking dead man remaining still in his kneeling position. A few quick stabs of the knife into his brain brings her back to the present, bile dribbling off her lips to cringe at the wet sharp sounds coming from Victor's head. "Oh god," she mumbles, spitting out the remains in her mouth, "why do you keep doing that, Victor?"

A long stab and the rolling of the blade around the inside of his skull lengthens the silence between them - a bubbling gasp the first to rise from his throat. "It ... keeps me in controoooool," another stab into his head, "if ... I stop ..." and there are several more thrusts of the knife into his head.

Carol releases a breath she didn't know she was holding, swallowing a huge lump forming in the middle of her throat "If you stop, you won't be in control of yourself. Is that right?" A drawn out 'yes' seeps out between the sharp gasps. "Then, you know what is going on." Against her will her mind goes wild with the implications - her gut twists on itself.

"Yeess," he shouts, releasing the handle of the knife and letting the hand fall against his leg.  
"Then," Carol swallows, "you know what must be done, right?" Somewhere deep within her heart there's a snap and tears dot the outline of her vision. It's not for him, she tells herself, but for all the victims that are still somehow alive and suffering. "You know more than I do about ... whatever is controlling you than I do. Are there any ideas on how to end all of this?"

Victor nods once and then never stops, his body rocking back and forth with hands digging into the remaining bloody tatters of his pants. Carol holds up Victor's former gun, aiming as best she could with tears staining her vision. Then he pulls the knife out of his head and presses the blade against the wrist of his left hand. First he only cuts through the mangled flesh, dragging the blade down to the joint of his elbow before lifting it and pushing it deeper into the flesh. Over and over he repeats until the knife cuts through to the other side.

Then he starts flaying the skin of his fingers from the base of his wrist to the fingertips and dig out the bones of each joint - severing the tendons connecting each to another. "As faaar ... as I know. I ... am the host. It keeps me ... alive. To kill. For it. But if. I bleed. Enough. I should. Die." Between every other word he forces in another breath as he stares down at his handiwork before plunging the knife deeper into his skull. "The more die. Longer takes. But if. No limbs. Can't. Come back. To kill. Again." He peels more flesh from finger bones, cutting the flesh into strips while he digs out the bones. "If brain. A stew. I keep. Control."

Carol had already sat herself down on the ground, the gun lying on the ground with her hands gripping her mouth and cross. Frozen, she can only watch as he tears his arm into ribbons and throws away the bones as best he could with mangled arms. The pooling blood grows but more tries to crawl up his body and into the mangled arm and the slit in the side of his head. Faster he starts to cut, cutting off his left hand and flinging it as far away as possible. Then his lower left arm and he sits on one foot to cut off the other still in a bloodstained sneaker.

"Puh... lease, help me," he gurgles, blood rushing up his neck to the deep cut in his head. Somewhere, deep within her brain, a switch flips in Carol and she forces herself up and grabs the gun. Victor does not even turn to acknowledge her walking closer to him with the gun pointing at his head - until she grabs the other side of his head and shoves the gun barrel deep into the massive wound and fires.

His head acts like a silencer and his hand on the knife doesn't lose hold - cutting deeper and deeper into the joint of one foot. After the final slice that removes the foot from his leg Carol kicks it away, taking the knife into her own hand and stabs into the muscle near his exposed knee. Victor's hand hold the leg down as she keeps stabbing into the flesh, slicing through against the bone and tearing off huge chunks of the bullet riddled muscle.

Carol kicks away any remaining flesh away from the ever-expanding spiraling blood that lies beneath them, never looking into the face of the body she's tearing into with a dulling blade. 'Not a person,' she tells herself, 'A monster, a killer, if it doesn't end now, when will the next chance be?' Another round goes off into Victor's skull but he barely moves besides exposing his other leg to the blade clutched in Carol's hand. His hand hold his leg down, ready for the next furious blows of the blade cutting through muscle and against bone.

What would normally be a difficult job was made easier by the numerous wounds decorating his body, cutting through thick muscle by connecting the bullet wounds together in each lengthy cut. The tears were flowing out of Carol at this point and she pulls the trigger on his gun again. Another shot muffled by his skull and brain matter that began to ooze past the blood desperately trying to crawl back in. Another leg off; Carol kicks it away across a field of broken glass.  
Three limbs off; the last remaining was his right arm and he holds it up in the air for her - palm face up.

For a few seconds she lets go of the gun, holding the wrist of his right hand and tearing the knife through the base of each finger until they were all scattered on the floor at her feet. She kicks them away then pulls the trigger of the gun again. This time, he flinches and his body rocks from the force. Beneath them the spiraling blood starts to thin. Carol works fast to cut through the elbow of his right arm, ignoring the blood sticking fast to the gloves and seeping through to her fingers. Across the bone, tearing away the flesh, sawing through the tendons connecting the two arm bones; she throws the remains away.

All that remains of him was his dismembered body and head. Only now does she look him in the face - a face with only a few scratches and bruises and down on his neck there was no slice. Then he spoke, clearly, even as his body laid flat on the tile in the center of a twisting pool of blood. "You need to cut off my head, and crush it until the spiraling stops."

Carol stands frozen, eyes wide and the lump in her throat rising again and threatens to make her vomit. Taking a few shaky breaths, she kneels down beside his body in the pooling blood; both hands hold the handle of the knife tight and she stares at the untouched skin of his neck.

"Just, do it, I don't want to kill anyone anymore," a shaking sigh crawls through his remaining body and stares up at the ceiling. "You're not doing it for me, I know, but for everyone else that I've killed here."

Carol plunges the knife deep into his throat, squeezing her eyes shut against the bubbles gurgling up past the blade before she stabs into his throat repeatedly, pulling the blade towards her with each slice. Over and over she cuts against the thick structures in his throat and between the bones of his spine. There is no protest from him, only bubbling breaths that crawl over the blade of the knife. And when his head finally comes off the knife drops onto the tile with an echoing ring - the once pooling swirling blood gone from the tile. Any remaining blood from him crawls towards his severed head, the head mouthing 'thank you' repeats even after she picks it up with shaking hands.

Walking far away from the body she stops on the other side of the fountain and throws the head as far as she can down the darkness of the pathway opposite of the direction Hadi and Alexis went. A hollow smack and a series of cracks respond to her and she starts to walk towards where she threw the head.

And throughout the mall, there was screams.

Carol held her hands over her ears as the screams echo through the building - dozens of voices crying out in agony until only the jingle of Carol's phone sang in the mall. She was kneeling down against the floor with her head on the dusty tile, squeezing her head with her hands and forcing out the tears that flow heavily from her eyes.

"It's over," she cries, curling up against the floor with her arms wrapping around the back of her head and her head pressing against the front of her jacket. "It's finally fucking over," she sobs.

Beyond the walls a siren of an ambulance wails, becoming one of several low tones that make up the refreshed ambiance of the mall. Slight winds coil through the open chambers and shake up loose papers left scattered about, throwing them through the dark corners and across fragmented glass. The sharp footfalls from the other end of the mall echo into every corner, slowing near where Carol lies curled.

"Carol, Carol, are you alright?" begins Alexis, falling to her knees and both hands shaking Carol's shoulder. A few more shakes bring her back to now and Carol pulls Alexis into a tight hug - burying her face into Alexis' shoulder.

"I, I just -" Carol gasps, gripping Alexis' jacket tight, "there was no other way, he wanted me to - oh god." Both sat on their knees and Alexis ran her hand up and down Carol's back; speaking soft whispers of comfort. Hadi knelt down beside them and ran his arms around them, pulling them both into a tight hug. The broken gasps between sobs stop Carol from saying anymore for the moment.

"Carol," Hadi starts a few minutes later, eyeing her blood soaked gloves and the blood drying on her face, "what happened - are you hurt?"

"No, no, this blood isn't mine," she chokes out, pulling off the gloves and chucking them far away.

"Then whose is it?" asks Alexis, still holding Carol tight.

"Victor, it's all his."

"You need to tell us what happened," began Hadi.

"Carol, is it over? The victims - the ones me and Hadi found - they just started screaming." Alexis scratches through her bag for the first aid kit, "what in the world happened?"

"It's over. He's dead, I had to -" Carol clutches her stomach for a moment, "I had to cut him up - his legs, his arms, his fucking head." and her arms coil over her head. "He just watched me as I did it - and he was saying 'thank you' when he was just a head. And the screaming - it was everywhere." A second wave of tears stop her from saying more.

"Come on, let's get out of here, Carol," whispers Hadi, gently grabbing one of Carols arms and gently pulling her up. Alexis helps Carol stand, taking her weight as they stand and slowly start walking towards the way they entered.

The three stop after passing through the hollow store's back door, Carol sliding her back on the wall until she's sat on the floor. Alexis lays her bag on the floor crawling through her bag again for the first aid kit, pulling out some wet wipes she hands them to Carol who viciously rubs off the blood from her face.

"So, what now?" Hadi sits down across from the both of them with Alexis' camera in hand.

"I think leaving should be one of them - nothing here is good anymore," mumbles Alexis before crawling over to grab her camera out of Hadi's hands. He sighs. "Hey, it's mine, not yours."

"Can I have his camera - Victor's," whispers Carol. Her eyes are still towards the ground and her hands curling into the hem of her jacket.

"Sure," and Alexis pulls out the now-dead man's camera from her bag and hands it to Carol who turns it on and starts flipping through the files. "What do you want it for?"

"Deleting everything, we should do the same for ours," Carol takes some time to figure out the camera's system. "Pretend this never happened, yea."

"Are you sure, Carol?" asks Hadi.

"Yes, so start deleting everything to do with this place. If you have anything to say save it for later," she starts flipping through the photographs on Victor's camera and deleting them one by one. The last file on the camera, the last thing it captured, was the last video Victor had made of his final steps into the mall and towards the dry fountain.

###

Thank you for taking the time to read [Falling into the Siphon]! This is not the first release, as so written on the first page, but is more a re-release to fill up and provide an easier package for others to read outside of the original site of posting. I had originally curated this as a NaNoWriMo challenge for myself in 2014 at a difficult stage in my life – barely able to keep self together – and so writing gruesome content was a venue to deal with that inner torment in a productive manner. I am at a better place now, in a better state of mind to more reliable be able to write without external coercion; and it still holds a special place in my heart even though it was a fleeting idea at the time.

If you enjoyed the content, please take some time to drop a comment or review on the venue you purchased it from! Again, thank you!

Aver Roah

About the author:

Trans masculine, non-binary; I am a queer writer with interest in a cavalcade of genres and a catalog of scene and settings, primarily with themes that range between romance or horror. It depends all on the setting; of intimacies explored or for dealing with traumatic experiences in a careful, respectful manner that is never meant to demean those that are victims or to romanticize horrific experiences. Senses that are tactile, connections that may become strained or weary; all interconnected with the genre of queer fiction and an assembly of monster fiction!

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Email: aver.roah@gmail.com

