Nightshift 49: Mountain Antiques

[gargantuanlaugh]

[From here]Damon Gant took one step into the room and felt a rush of dizziness cloud his head. He staggered for a moment, and reached up to touch his temple. A headache? No, it was disappearing quickly, but he still didn't feel completely well. Probably the atmosphere. Gant had never been in this part of the institute, so he wasn't sure what

Comments

[fourstonewalls]

Lana, too, stumbled as she crossed the threshold, and it was only luck that stopped her an inch before tumbling directly into the broad expanse of Damon's back.

He looked smaller in the gray cotton, somehow. Or perhaps it was just the fact that the world was spinning slightly, around the point where her eyes had landed. She blinked, and stood up straight. The world continued to turn, but she ignored it and focused on where their flashlights were pointed. A record player? Unless Mr. Landel had some very strange ideas indeed on both therapy and torture, this wasn't where she'd been trying to go.

She blinked one more time, trying to clear the dizziness and the hiss from her ears. Hang on, that's just the rain. Only it's much louder than it was before, as if there wasn't another story above us. Maybe there wasn't. She pivoted and swung the flashlight directly at a window

[gargantuanlaugh]

Yes, that indeed was a phonograph. No mistaking it. And next to it was a box of old records. And next to that was a set of china figurines. And next to those was a pair of brass candlesticks. The entire shelf was covered in knickknacks of all kinds, some a little more worn than others. Nothing that would normally be found in a mental hospital. Just... trinkets. What was going on here

[fourstonewalls]

She raised her eyebrows, slowly and deliberately. Composure, Damon. He'd taught her that lesson. "It's a possibility, albeit slim. Hallucinations don't leave evidence." True enough that she had no evidence for prior instances of teleportation, but she'd had sufficient to leave behind her usual assumptions.

"Good find," she said, looking at the candlesticks he'd just abandoned. "We shouldn't go out there unarmed." She had the scalpel, but something in the way he looked at her made her keep it a secret. He knew something, they all did. He had to know.

All of that was moot if there really were flesh-eating zombies out there. She marched over and grabbed both candlesticks, dangling them awkwardly between the fingers of the hand without the flashlight. She held them up in front of him. "Take one." Before I lose my grip on them, or you on reality.

[gargantuanlaugh]

He didn't like that look she gave him. He really didn't, but how else was he supposed to respond? They were in an antique shop that looked like it was on the ground floor but he was sure they had walked into a room on the second floor of a mental institute. And she was talking about being armed again. With candlesticks. Even with his record the thought of bludgeoning possibly hostile mental patients was not appealing

[girlsandgadgets]

[From here.]

The dizzying feeling returned as they stepped through the elaborate doorway, and Edgar found himself exiting a much simpler door, stepping into a cluttered building. He resisted the urge to rub his eyes, knowing his hands were covered a vile mixture of both his own blood and the monster's. He was certain he looked terrible enough without having anything else smeared on his face.

He shined his light around the dark room, keeping his other hand on the open wound on his shoulder. Tea pots, figurines, various porcelain oddities- it was some sort of curiosity shop. He turned, looking out the front windows of the store: rain pounding outside, familiar streets he'd seen earlier in the day.

"Doyleton?" he said, asking himself more than Gren. "It seems the doors can take us outside the walls of the institute. Perhaps that last room wasn't in the building at all."

[for_a_song]

Maybe it was the blood-loss, but that dizzy sensation was definitely worse this time around, and Gren nearly stumbled into Edgar as they came through the door. It was dark again, save for the other man's flashlight, and he could hear the rain again outside. The shelves seemed piled high with an ancient assortment of goods.

"Doylton?" He echoed. "That's where everyone was today, right? This looks like an antique store." The items might have been significantly older than he was used to seeing, but he could recognize the store's purpose easily enough. "Maybe not," he agreed. "I like that idea better than the thought that there are whole rooms in that place devoted to some weird skills test."

The pain in his arm reminded him rather insistently that they both needed a little time to patch themselves up. "I wonder if there's a first-aid kit." Granted, they needed way more than a couple of band-aids, but it would be a start.

[girlsandgadgets]

"A first aid kit would be wonderful," Edgar said with a pained grimace. "Or potions. Or even magic. I'd take any of those options right now." He had to fight curiosity and his natural inclination of figuring out just what sort of tool he could piece together from some of the items lying around the shop in favor of taking care of wounds. Weapons could be repaired- there was only so much one could do for a person after a certain amount of time, and their injuries could not be ignored.

"I wandered in a few of these places earlier today," he continued as he walked down one of the aisles of knick knacks, "but didn't see a chemist among them. I suppose we could try the door again to see if it'd take us somewhere with medical supplies, but we'd be risking running into another monster. We might have to make due with what's here."

That in mind, he started looking a small rack labeled "Vintage Clothing" for something suitable for makeshift bandages. "I don't suppose you have training as a medic, do you?"

[for_a_song]

"I think staying here for now is our best option, yeah." He moved to look around behind the counter, hoping maybe something would be stashed there. Then again, there probably wasn't much call for things like rolls of gauze in an antique store. He frowned momentarily at the stuffed tiger. Not exactly the most welcoming sight, given their recent encounter.

"Only the basics, really. Enough to patch someone up until one of the real Medics could get there." He knew CPR and what to do if it looked like someone was going into shock, but neither of those skills was going to be particularly useful.