[Nowhere] Fallen Dreams
He didn't shoot them.
He should have. They moved quickly and he didn't really have the time to club them all, but his gun- he left it in its holster, inexplicably. It was something he'd always have a hard time with. Shooting the dogs was easy easy enough, but the nurses seemed too much like people. So even though they were trying to rip him to shreds, he didn't shoot them. Instead he'd club them over the head with his flashlight, swiped their legs out from under them, stomped their ribs in. Maybe that wasn't any better.
There had been so many damp, moldering passages he'd forced himself through. Every hallway seemed to have one or two of these creatures. Short blonde hair framed their contorted faces, too-large mouths cutting sideways and diagonally, all the ways they shouldn't go. He'd run when he could, remembering the rule he'd given himself the last time he was 'here'. But there were a few times when they caught up with him, and then he was cornered, and he had to fight.
The last altercation included a knife in his shoulder blades from a creature he'd lost the position of. He'd twirled, catching her off-guard, and when she fell to the ground he stomped on her ribs once and ran faster than he ever had in his life.
He was still fairly certain he was underground, but now he was jogging briskly through a green field. There were people laying on the ground, all lined up in a row with their arms crossed. Henry went on the defensive immediately, but as they continued to lay still he noticed the wounds on all of them. Across the throat, in the eyes, over the wrists. Were they self-inflicted?
He knelt down upon reaching them. Boys in ripped t-shirts, wearing beaded necklaces and worn converse. Girls with long hair clips and short skirts, bruises across the cheeks and smeared overdone makeup. Seven people, not one of them over the age of 17. They were so very young- why were they here? He looked around, trying to find a clue. He eventually gave up, got up to leave when he noticed it. Under the teens, and around them, there were white flowers interspersed with the grass. White claudia...
An unearthly howl from thirty yards back caused Henry to look back. The nurses he'd been running from, and forgotten all about, were still on their way. He pushed himself up onto his feet and ran the opposite direction, hoping to find some way out, some way to Eileen. When he saw the blood trails, he figured that's likely as good an indicator as anything. The dark passages gave way to a series of long hallways, and finally a door.
As he shut it behind him, he found himself in yet another dingy doctor's office. He let out a long breath and stopped moving, first leaning against the back of the door, then jumping up as the pain in his back made him remember the knife-wound in his shoulder. He shook the cobwebs from his mind, as best he could, and walked to the opposite door.
He couldn't rest, he needed to get to Eileen. Wherever she was.
He should have. They moved quickly and he didn't really have the time to club them all, but his gun- he left it in its holster, inexplicably. It was something he'd always have a hard time with. Shooting the dogs was easy easy enough, but the nurses seemed too much like people. So even though they were trying to rip him to shreds, he didn't shoot them. Instead he'd club them over the head with his flashlight, swiped their legs out from under them, stomped their ribs in. Maybe that wasn't any better.
There had been so many damp, moldering passages he'd forced himself through. Every hallway seemed to have one or two of these creatures. Short blonde hair framed their contorted faces, too-large mouths cutting sideways and diagonally, all the ways they shouldn't go. He'd run when he could, remembering the rule he'd given himself the last time he was 'here'. But there were a few times when they caught up with him, and then he was cornered, and he had to fight.
The last altercation included a knife in his shoulder blades from a creature he'd lost the position of. He'd twirled, catching her off-guard, and when she fell to the ground he stomped on her ribs once and ran faster than he ever had in his life.
He was still fairly certain he was underground, but now he was jogging briskly through a green field. There were people laying on the ground, all lined up in a row with their arms crossed. Henry went on the defensive immediately, but as they continued to lay still he noticed the wounds on all of them. Across the throat, in the eyes, over the wrists. Were they self-inflicted?
He knelt down upon reaching them. Boys in ripped t-shirts, wearing beaded necklaces and worn converse. Girls with long hair clips and short skirts, bruises across the cheeks and smeared overdone makeup. Seven people, not one of them over the age of 17. They were so very young- why were they here? He looked around, trying to find a clue. He eventually gave up, got up to leave when he noticed it. Under the teens, and around them, there were white flowers interspersed with the grass. White claudia...
An unearthly howl from thirty yards back caused Henry to look back. The nurses he'd been running from, and forgotten all about, were still on their way. He pushed himself up onto his feet and ran the opposite direction, hoping to find some way out, some way to Eileen. When he saw the blood trails, he figured that's likely as good an indicator as anything. The dark passages gave way to a series of long hallways, and finally a door.
As he shut it behind him, he found himself in yet another dingy doctor's office. He let out a long breath and stopped moving, first leaning against the back of the door, then jumping up as the pain in his back made him remember the knife-wound in his shoulder. He shook the cobwebs from his mind, as best he could, and walked to the opposite door.
He couldn't rest, he needed to get to Eileen. Wherever she was.