Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 or older. Thanks for reading!
How odd that only minutes ago, Constance had pointed her pistol at her own head. Now, she could taste escape. She put her shoulder to the wall and fired at the hinges at an angle she hoped would limit the chance of a dangerous ricochet. She emptied her clip. Her husband screamed in the background. She glanced at him. The humanoid creatures were swarming him.
Ernest was slowly rising to his feet. The bearish creature spun toward Constance and grunted out what seemed like surprise. It charged her.
No time to reload. She yanked on the door. The hinges were deformed, but her hollow-point bullets hadn't done enough damage. "Shit." She looked over her shoulder. The bear wasn't fast, but it carried a ton of mass. It was within fifteen feet. She pointed the pistol at her own head and pulled the trigger.
Constance blinked. She was still alive! She'd emptied the clip at the door.
"Okay, big guy. You want me?" Constance stepped out into the hall, keeping herself between the bear and the service stairway door. "Come and get it."
I really need a red cape to try this.
Constance waited until the last second then feinted left and leapt right. The creature tried to stop, but its mass carried it right into the door. There was a loud crash, and the door popped off the wall, landing on the bear.
As she hopped over the door and creature, landing in the stairwell, she paused to look back at her husband. She couldn't see him.
Was this goodbye?
She sprinted up the stairs, taking three at a time. She had somehow cheated death and prayed the trend would continue. Her hemmed skirts flapped behind her as she fled. The only point against her miraculous escape was that she hadn't been wearing that red cape.
~~
It only took about eight floors for George to grasp that his sister wasn't up for the climb ahead of them. They sprinted the first few flights and then slowed. They were both huffing and puffing. The siblings continued at a jog, George finding a nice, steady rhythm with his breathing. But Lillian's face was bright red, her eyes were wide with panic, and she was nearly hyperventilating. They had just passed floor one hundred thirteen, when Lillian stopped and threw up.
"I ... can't ... I ... just ... can't." Lillian threw up again. She was grateful that her hair was still pinned in place. "And I have to ... pee."
"Lillian ... we're running for our lives." George looked back down the stairway. He didn't hear anyone following, but he could guess they weren't too far behind.
"I ... will pee in my skirts ... otherwise." Lillian was still struggling to catch her breath.
"Okay, there's a bathroom ... right there. But be very, very fast." George knew she needed a break regardless. He watched her run off toward the bathroom. "Océane, open a line to Constance Haversham." He looked at the bank of elevators. They were all powered down and didn't show which floors the lifts were currently on.
"The line is open," Océane said.
"Mrs. Haversham, are you alive?" George grit his teeth, praying there would be an answer. He held his breath.
"Just ... barely ... alive." Constance said. "I'm ... climbing ... right now."
"Thank gods." George exhaled. "We're going to take the elevator. Where are you?"
"One ... twenty-one." Constance paused. She could definitely hear the clatter of boney feet on metal stairs somewhere below her. They were coming. She reloaded her pistol.
"Meet us at the elevators on one-twenty-one. We'll pick you up on our way up," George said.
"Confirmed." Constance pushed through the door into the hall of floor one hundred twenty-one. She found that it was themed tan and brown, with painted palm trees along the walls and a mural of the Amazon desert on the ceiling. That seemed an ill omen to her, but that didn't matter. She sped down the long hallway to meet them at the elevators.
Eight floors below Constance, George waved his sister over as she exited the bathroom. There was still no sign of pursuers, but once they used the elevators, everyone would know where they were. He messaged his mother to tell her to get ready to meet them. He checked on Kapnos, but still she hadn't responded to his messages. He then instructed Océane on what to do next.
~~
Fury and abject terror occupied equal parts of Roy's mind. He didn't know which caused his body to quake. Maybe both. He was stuck in an elevator lift with two creatures and the undead Ernest Zaal. Roy could clearly see the bullet holes in the man's torn jacket and the black splotches that leaked from each mark. But Ernest stood like a man alive nonetheless.
When the power had gone out, the emergency lighting had flickered on. Roy hadn't been paying attention to where they'd stopped. One of the creatures tried to pry the doors open, but it had little success. Ernest and the other creature stood quietly and watched the doors. Roy stayed laconic himself, planning.
Roy's pistol was in Ernest's pocket. Roy could see the outline of the thing. If he could get it, he could finish Ernest off for good. And maybe take out those creatures, too. At close quarters, he'd be able to stick the barrel of the gun right up to their eyes. His nostrils flared as he readied himself for action. That smell. His horrific companions had such an odd scent. It was clear in the cramped lift compartment. They smelled like ... a brandy hot toddy.
Cinnamon ... the fuckers smell like cinnamon.
Just as Roy was about to move his trembling hands toward Ernest, the lift lurched. The power had returned, and they were descending again. The creature that had been trying the doors turned and backed Roy into a corner. His opportunity vanished. He'd have to wait and see what waited for him at the bottom of the tower.
~~
"Okay, no more running. I hope this works." George hit the button for one hundred twenty-one, and the doors slowly closed. The hum of the elevator as it ascended was oddly comforting.
"Thank you for doing this, Georgie. I wasn't going to make it." Lillian hugged her brother tightly, burying her face into his shirt. Not long ago, she would have curled her mouth in disgust at the scent of sweat that permeated him. Now she smiled. It was manly and reassuring.
The elevator stopped at one hundred twenty-one. The hiss of a pistol greeted their ears the second the doors opened. George pushed his sister behind him, pulled his pistol, and stuck his head out. Constance was a few feet away in her dueling stance, shooting at two ivory, humanoid creatures as they approached. The creatures were about twenty yards away and closing. George leaned his arm out of the elevator and opened fire. "Get in."
Constance looked over her shoulder at the Zaals. Despite the situation, a stupid grin took over her face. "You never cease ... Mr. Zaal." She leapt into the elevator. George pressed the button for one hundred fifty-four and pulled his arm back in.