Exsanguinate

I
t is well said launching
a book takes a village, and I for one, advocate that thought. They say if you want something done well, then you need to surround yourself with people who are smarter than yourself to get the job done right. For without the amazing professionalism, dedication of time and resources from some of the most beloved people in our lives, this book series simply would not exist.

Our deepest appreciation goes out to our editors, Mary Ann Peden-Coviello, Virginia Smith, Rhonda Carpenter, Devon Ellington, and Wendy Schirmer. For without their tireless efforts, this novel would never have seen the light of day or helped our dream come true.

Our heartfelt thank you goes out to Ahnah Jenkins, Alicia Wood, Amy K. Marshall, Apple Ardent Scott, Bill Crane, Billie Sue Mosiman, Chantal Noordeloos, Cindy Kersey, Diana Holdsworth, Faith Dincolo, Jaime Johnesee, Jeannine East, Kelly Whitley, Kimber Rowe-Samborki, KT Wagner, Leigh Lane, Lin White, Lisa Schmidt, Lisa Weir, Nina Benneton, Pamela Toler, Ravven Kitsune, Robyn McCleary, Roma Lee Fuson, Roxanne McHenry, Theron Lalla, Tirsea McNeal, Vix Kirkpatrick, and Watson Davis. Each and every one of you has had delightful impact on either the planning, brainstorming, marketing, or overall creative fun for this novel. You are held in our deepest and sincerest gratitude! Thank you for joining us in our journey :)

A
nd last
, but certainly not least - we dedicate this book to my fathers, Dr. James Paul Kersey and Edward Brant Smith. We have missed them now for too many Thanksgivings from our table. We will cherish you forever in our hearts.

T
hank you for being awesome
! If you have come this far, then I sincerely thank you for purchasing and reading
Exsanguinate
.

Only minor changes in formatting and additional back material have been made in this update. The text has stated the same. This book includes a glossary of words and references featured in other dialects to help you understand their context. There are no made up words in this book. Please join me in celebrating the way other English speaking countries use variations of words. ☺

I hope you will enjoy this book series, the quirky characters, and share them with your family and friends. Thank you for joining me on my journey.

~Killion

T
he pain gave
clue it might be time to pray for death – that would be easier than remaining alive. My eyelids, heavy as cast-iron skillets, made it difficult to see through the haze. Prying them open revealed intense, bright light bouncing off shiny surfaces, forcing me to close them once again. When I found the courage to peek again, the penetrating, painful light made it difficult to focus. My hand ventured out to help me understand my surroundings. I discovered warm skin at my fingertips.

“Cheyenne? I’m here, baby. It’s ok-kay. You’re in the hospital. Everything is g-gonna be just fine.”

I followed the welcome sound of my father’s voice, managing to focus enough to see his swollen, tear-streaked face. His lips trembled as he bent forward and kissed my forehead. His stutter and affection hinted he had terrible news or I was dead. Considering the amount of pain I was in, I would have preferred the latter.

The last time I saw him openly cry was when my mother died. Not a good sign for me.

I looked around for the morphine vending machine everyone loves when they’re in the hospital, but what I found instead was bloody ooze seeping through gauzy bandages all over my body. My right arm was pierced with an IV and blood shunt, while a pressure cuff inflated on my upper left arm, cutting off the circulation. The amount of tape holding down my bandages reminded me of the mummy costume I’d been wearing before waking up in here.

With every heave of my chest, I heard the crack of micro-fractures in my ribs. The torturous pain kept me at the crossroads – on the brink of another black-out. A percussion section of hums, beeps, blips, and pings harmonized the soundtrack of the intensive care unit behind my head.

My father let out an oppressive breath which smelled as if he hadn’t exhaled for days. Quietly, he choked on his words. “I came as soon as the p-police contacted m-me.”

Police?

He grabbed my hands to help quiet my confusion. “Shh. It’s all right, Cheyenne. J-just relax now, honey.”

Questions seared my mind more than the pain scoured my nerves and nothing made any sense. I sank farther back into the bed to rest in safety.

Through clenched teeth, I tried to say my sister’s names. “Da..ko..ta. Sher..dan”

My father swallowed hard. I watched his lips try to form words. His voice choked and stopped. His face creased with worry. He reached for a newspaper on my rolling bedside table and held it to his chest. I stretched out my fingers to indicate I wanted to see. He unfolded the front page of the
Orlando Sentinel
for me to read.

D
addy’s trembling
fingers pointed to the number three. My sisters were missing!

I looked up at him. My heart skipped a beat. Machine alarms screamed out my misery – everything my mouth couldn’t say. My mind recoiled in denial and recollection. Hoarfrost retreated into my bones as a flood of blood left my brain with the speed of a torrential downpour.

I remember. Oh Dear God … I remember!

I tried to breathe, but it caused more pain in my chest as the ribs cracked. I searched for the little red morphine button and pushed it.

I must be one of the sixteen. Sweet Jesus. Twelve people were killed in that horrible room? There was no way out – how did I survive?

The morphine elixir bathed my nerves as my head grew fuzzy. I wondered which was worse – dead or missing. If they’re dead, they’re gone and there’s nothing I can do about it. If they’re missing, I can find them.

After what I saw that monster do to those people in that chamber of horrors, there’s no telling what freakish atrocities could be happening to them right now - if they’re still alive.

The fateful pull of the reaper beckoned me to join him once again. Sinking into the welcoming arms of Morpheus, I whispered into his ear, “I’ll find you … I pinky swear promise, my sisters … I’ll … find … you.”

N
ormally
, I loved Friday nights. This Friday however, was a different story. My presence was mandatory at one of the scariest places on the planet – Halloween Scream Nights. Scheduled to arrive at Global Studios for their annual fright fest with both my sisters, I had a backstage pass to watch, record, and study fear. I needed to analyze the types of things that cause grown men and women to run out of buildings while screaming and pissing their pants. This fear data would help us develop the next rollout of “ExsanguiNation”, our online role-play simulation game. According to my boss, my older sister, Sheridan, it was my professional responsibility to research what frightens people, regardless of whether or not it frightened me.

I thought about how three sisters should have had better means of entertaining and employing themselves than finding new and improved ways to scare the beegeezus out of one another. No wonder we were the weird ones. The Irish, redheaded, horror-obsessed O’Cuinn sisters. We knew horror movie trivia better than other people knew baseball. I wouldn’t trade my sisters for anything in the world. I never knew why the three of us couldn’t be all up into guys, shopping, or something else mundane like that.

Lying in bed before starting the day, I often questioned my sanity and choice of profession. Why did I become a software programming engineer for online game simulators powered to scare the hell out of people, when I personally was the biggest chicken-shit on the planet?

The alarm clock beamed seven-thirty a.m. onto the ceiling as
Celebration
by Kool and the Gang blared out the speakers. I stared at the numbers as if they were an omen. Not wanting to wake up, I held the pillow over my face. The day I had been dreading since last Halloween had finally arrived.

“You have an online chat message from Sheridan O’Cuinn.” PADME – my Personal Automated Domicile Management Executive walked into my bedroom and announced my sister was online. It had taken a few months getting used to the idea of a holographic person in the house, but she had become something I relied on for almost everything.

I rolled over and groaned. Knowing the inevitable was coming, I said, “Okay, put her on.” I sat up in the bed.

Beano, my sixty-five pound Boxer puppy, jumped onto the bed and dropped Mr. Pooh bear into my lap. “Good morning, my big, handsome fella. How are you today?” He licked my face. Beano’s grin always brightened my mornings.

My bedroom wall changed from the serene beachfront with breaking waves to the face of my older sister, Sheridan.

“Good morning, Cheyenne. Time to wakey wakey. Eggs and bakey.”

“Sher, it’s not even eight o’clock.” I hated morning people. “I was up past three this morning with Roxas.”

“What you do on your time off with Rox is none of my concern.” Sheridan changed her tone and singsonged at me. “Today’s the big day. Just wanted to make sure you got Dakota’s surprise for our big event tonight.”

I blinked at her. Sheridan was always way too cheery for this early in the morning. “Surprise? I’ve barely opened my eyes. All I know is Dakota said something about picking up costumes this morning after class.” I looked around the room. Sure enough, a card and a small cylinder lay next to the iPod alarm clock.

“Yeah, it looks like she left me something. I wonder what else she did in here while I slept. I’ll check it out in a bit.”

“Excellent. Yeah, you better check your tooth paste. She once changed mine out for that Preparation H stuff.”

“Ewww.”

“That’s all right. I put hair remover in her shampoo, so it’s all good.” Sheridan picked up a small doggie carrier which held her little Pomsky puppy, and set her in front of the camera. “I also wanted to see if I could drop off Stormaggedon before we go to the theme park this afternoon. You know how she loves to play with Beano. I don’t want her to be all alone.” Sheridan ended her request in doggie baby talk.

“Sure. What time?” I placed my feet solidly on the floor and scratched my back. My elbow creaked from all the computer time. I looked over at the screen and Sheridan had Stormy dressed in a University of Florida Gators cheerleading outfit.

“I should be there around four. I have to arrive at the park early to coordinate equipment checks with the tech one supervisor.”

Stormy pulled at the costume with her teeth.

“So … have you decided about tonight?”

“Decided what, Sheridan? You know I can’t even think straight without coffee. Padme – could you please start the coffee pot in my office?”

Padme responded, as always, with polite charm. “Absolutely, Cheyenne. Would you like the pumpkin spice eggnog creamer or the Bailey’s in your coffee this morning?”

“Bailey’s definitely. The chocolate kind.”

“You put Bailey’s in your coffee?” Sheridan grabbed a miniature pom pom.

“Yeah – why not? If it’s a great after dinner drink, then I figure it oughta be even better before breakfast.”

Sheridan put a pom pom on one of Stormy’s paws. Beano picked up Mr. Pooh bear and nudged me. I grabbed the teddy bear and played tug-o-war with my puppy.

“Seriously, Sher? You’re gonna give that poor little dog a complex. She’s not a toy. Why do you dress her like that?”

Stormy shook her little paw, most likely trying knock the pom pom off her, making it shake.

“What? This is her Halloween costume, of course. Didn’t you get something for Beano?”

Beano stopped his tugging on Mr. Pooh and cocked his head to the side as if he were waiting for my answer. “Uh … that would be a no. Besides, I’m sure he’d take my arm off if I tried.”

“Boo. You’re no fun. This is supposed to be an exciting day. I have the hugest surprise for you.”

“I bet you do.”

She grinned at me. “Have you decided to face your biggest fear and go in the haunted house alone, tonight?”

“Hold that thought. I’ve gotta pee. Why don’t you let the pups talk for a sec.”

My favoritest pair of capri jeans and tank top lay at the foot of the bed where I had shed them mere hours before. I grabbed them and shuffled into the bathroom. The mirror mocked me when I looked at my disheveled auburn curls and bloodshot blue eyes. Serious nerves of wrought iron steel were needed to help me get through this night and there was only one person, or rather one avatar, who could help me.

Beano stood protecting the bedroom fortress, and barked at Stormaggedon until I re-emerged from behind the bathroom door. Stormy’s tiny bark was entirely too cute. I bet she thought she was as big as a standard sized Siberian Husky instead of the miniature Pomsky cross that she was.

“Look, I have to tell you. I don’t have a problem programming scary things for the game, but I don’t like haunted houses. Ya know?” I sat on the bed and grabbed my leather sandals. “It’s going to be a challenge for me to face this fear alone. Watching horror movies is always safe. The worst thing that happens is spilled popcorn, but being live and in person at the haunted houses – that’s a totally different story.”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” I watched as she took the cheerleading costume off Stormy and pulled on a ballerina’s pink tutu.

“Tell me what? That tonight is canceled?”

“No, silly. Since this is the 25th anniversary event of the Halloween Scream Nights, Global Studios is allowing the park-goers to dress up in costume. Isn’t that fantastic?”

“What? Are you serious? I thought the only reason we’re dressing up is ‘cause we’re part of the guest cast. I can’t believe Global Studios would do that. Consider the liability. The security risks. They’ve never done that before. We won’t be able to tell who works there and who doesn’t. It’ll be a virtual serial killer Las Vegas buffet.”

“Exactly, it totally rocks. Don’t worry. There will be tons of extra security guards and off duty police dressed up in costumes as well. It’ll be the best opportunity for research.”

I didn’t acknowledge her.

Yeah, research of the worst kind.

Sheridan danced Stormy on her back feet to show off her pink tutu. “What do you think of this one?”

“Cute. Better than the cheerleader.”

Beano nudged my arm. I stroked his furry, sweet face.

“It’s those damn scare zones that bother me the most, Sher. I can’t get to a bathroom without being accosted by the preternatural, undead, creepy crawlies.”

Beano woofed at me. I looked at him and said, “I wish I could take you to the park with me, big fella. You’d be my scary protector, wouldn’t cha? No ghoulies would dare come after me with you by my side.” He wagged his nub at me.

“I’m so excited, Cheyenne. I can’t wait to see the costume Dakota is getting for you. You’re gonna freak.”

“Lovely.”

“I’ll have you know - I am privy to information that the movie studio has built truly perverted concoctions with extra creepy weirdos for the big anniversary event.”

Any moment I thought for sure Sheridan was going to break out into a cheer herself.

“We’re gonna see things we’ve never experienced to scare the living hell outta us. There’s so much to do to get ready. Don’t you just love half-day Fridays?”

“Take a breath, Sheridan. You’re gonna hyperventilate before the day even begins.”

Her morning energy always made me wonder how we were related. She was always one of those people who got up at 4:30, ran a 5k, and milked a cow before the rooster crowed.

“Okay – sounds super. See you this afternoon. Laters.” I waved goodbye as I exhaled with mock excitement to get Sheridan off the line.

“Okay, see you then.” She waved goodbye with Stormy’s paw.

“End transmission.”

Padme resumed the screen to its former calm constant feed of waves onto the shore. “C’mon Beano. Gawd only knows what she’ll make her kids dress up in one day. At least she didn’t get you a Gator outfit.”

The temperatures were gonna top out into the nineties today in Orlando, and the humidity level was already at eighty-five percent. I put my unruly curls into a floppy ponytail.

Washing my face, I turned on the news in my mirror to watch the daily headlines. Traffic was already jammed up on I-4. Good thing I knew the back way to the theme park.

My eyebrows were in desperate need of a good grooming. There were so many stray hairs on my face, it looked as though I hadn’t been out of the house in a decade. It always hurt like hell when I had my eyebrows waxed. I hated plucking because I would pluck out the hairs whose nerves were attached to my toes and would shoot sharp shards of pain down my body and make my eyes water. I learned a long time ago you never ever pluck after applying mascara. Inevitably, you’d have watery eyes and have to redo your makeup from the streaks of mascara down your cheeks. What a nightmare.

Picking up the tweezers, I held them up to my mouth like a microphone. “Hey, Beano, what do you think of this one? I could call myself
The
Monobrow
, the super villainess of all those who fear the dreaded tweezers. Striking horrific fear into the hearts of persons afflicted with pluckophobia. Coming to a bathroom mirror near you. Video at eleven.”

Beano looked up at me and cocked his ears in curiosity. Forgoing the plucking, I gave him a kiss and grabbed his leash. “C’mon, Beano. I know, your momma is the weirdest.”