Thunder
cleaved the sky, pulling me out of my foggy dream.
In
the glass, a flash of white light and a dash of movement scurried
past my periphery.
I
shuddered at the pale flesh of a disfigured face sneering at me.
I
turned.
Nothing
-- a line of locked unit doors.
Then
footsteps, sprinting away, and a gaggle of laughter from around the
corner, along the corridor.
“Hello?”
I yelled, chasing another phantom. My legs felt like rubber bands as
I dashed to the end of the long hall. I stopped at the stairwell
door, out of breath.
The
sound footsteps seized. But intoxicating laughter followed.
“Who’s
there?” I yelled. “This isn’t funny.”
A
mockery of demonic laughter filled the air and cooled my skin.
I
stepped back, drew a breath.
Behind
me, one of the two elevators dinged. The doors opened.
Curiosity
consumed me.
I
should not have turned around to the sound.
The
lights went out when I did, plunging me into complete darkness.
Up
ahead, the exit signs flickered.
I
reached into my coat pocket and gripped the small bottle of mace I
carried with me when working cases. My heart thrashed behind my ribs,
like a pack of hungry rats gnawing through the lining of muscles,
tendons, and intestines.
A
coldness coiled in the space behind me. A round of knuckles tapped
against my head, and the sound of teeth clicked close to my ear. I
ran toward the elevator doors. They closed before I reached it.
I
banged hard on the doors and pressed the down button several times.
In
the dim light of the corridor, I noticed shadowy movement from
something skittering across the wall, a chittering screech of
insectile legs rushing at me in the dark.
I
raced a few feet to the left of the elevators to the stairwell door.
Locked.