Hexad (9 page)

He was just about to turn and flee back down the corridor when he heard something that intensified his fear ten-fold. A high pitched scream, one that came from down the hall.

Five

Running in the direction of the scream, Mart did his best to maintain his balance, nearly tripping in the darkness. He headed back to the main balcony where he'd split up from Adam and froze in terror when he heard the scream once more - he knew exactly who it was.

He continued down the corridor that Adam had gone to check out and stopped at the second door on the right hand side.

From within he could hear a faint mumbling sound, almost like a chant and the sounds of low groaning. Stepping forward towards the door, the scream came again, it sent a chill down his spine and fear spiked through his entire body.

He called out. “Adam?”

No answer

Slowly, he edged his way into the room, one step at a time. He shone his torch through the darkness and found his friend. The sight that stood before him once again made him vomit. Adam was positioned in the middle of the empty room facing a full length mirror. He was stripped bare to the waist, the mirror had been shattered and in his hand he was using a large shard of broken glass to cut and carve large sections of flesh from his chest and face. Blood was dripping from the exposed wounds and collecting on the floor in front of the mirror. Ripped chunks of muscle and flesh were smeared with congealed gore all over his hands and the makeshift blade.

Mart called to him. “Adam,
what the fuck are you doing
?”

Adam responded to the sound of his friend’s voice and slowly turned to face him. He was midway through cutting a large portion of bloody flesh from the cheek of his face. He looked at Mart and continued to cut through the flesh and sinew with a slick squelching sound, the large piece of meat dropped to the floor with a sickening wet thud.

Mart stared at Adam. His face and torso was a mutilated bloody ruin, jagged abrasions streaked across his chest and dripped heavy, dark blood, forming streaks as it oozed down to his stomach and trousers. Large, ugly looking lacerations ran along the top of his abdomen, the pink and red torn flesh exposing intestines and viscera beneath. His face was a picture of pure horror, a large cut across the bridge of his nose had almost severed the bottom part of his nose completely. His cheeks were ripped wide open, exposing red muscle and back teeth.

Mart could have cried for his friend, but Adam seemed to feel no pain. His eyes were wide open, alert as if he was really getting a depraved kick from his demented actions.

Mart looked his friend in the eyes. He was unrecognisable - his pupils dilated with rage.

“Adam, can you
hear me
? What have you
done
to yourself? We need to get you to a doctor.”

Adam seemed to acknowledge his friends question and looked down at his wrecked body, blood dribbling from the wounds on his face like a dripping tap. The blood trickled down to his chest as he lowered his head. Staring for a few seconds, he said nothing. He looked up, his eyes locked on Mart’s. There was a slight hint of recognition, but ultimately he seemed feral; he had a look of someone who had totally lost his mind. To compound Mart’s despair, Adam began to laugh.

A deep, guttural sound emerged from the man’s throat, as if he were mocking his friend. He continued to laugh as he held up the jagged piece of sharp glass before him and inspected the small pieces of dried gore and flesh. The blood was also running from a gash in his hand where the shard had cut into his palm. Without warning, he jammed the shard into his mouth and started sawing away, screaming inwardly as he began cutting away at his own tongue. Blood squirted from his mouth, splattering his chin and hands.

Adam took a step forward towards Mart with the glass held out front, his partially dissected tongue hanging from his mouth like a wet lump of meat. Mart knew he was in trouble. Edging backwards, he tried to reason with his friend.

“Adam, wait!” He cried

His friend paid no attention to his plea and continued forwards. Mart stepped backwards onto the landing, stumbling over his own feet. He continued to try to speak to his friend who seemed possessed. He kept coming, his pace quickening, the bloody makeshift weapon held out in front. Mart took another step back, but the world disappeared from beneath his feet.

He stood in mid-air for a split second in perfect balance before his centre of gravity dropped and he tumbled backwards down the flight of stairs. He put his hand out to try and cushion the drop but he fell awkwardly and his arm snapped upon impact like a twig. The sharp bone ripped through the skin and flesh of his elbow and gave off a horrible popping sound. He screamed in agony as he continued to tumble down the flight of stairs.

His body weight and momentum carried him down the stairs, he continued to plummet and roll over, dislocating his shoulder and snapping his head around at an unnatural angle. His neck broke as he hit the landing below, his cold, dead eyes staring upwards as he lay still. On the landing above, Adam dropped to his knees, the sudden thump of his weight on the hard floor dislodged more blood and gore from the vast wounds in his stomach. Dropping the glass, he fell to his side and lay perfectly still, his body bleeding out on the concrete floor.

Six

Karl waited by the entrance to the hospital, the cold air from outside spilling in through the open door. It seemed that, despite their earlier agreement, he was the only one that had actually remembered their rendezvous point. He cursed himself for panicking when he had seen the figure upstairs. Out of everyone in the group, he was the one who actually
wanted
to have a supernatural experience.

But the guy was running at you with a meat cleaver!

He'd heard the shouting and screams from up above on the other levels and began to sweat at the thought that something may have happened to his friends.
It was your stag party, it was you who insisted on visiting the haunted hospital.

A few minutes had passed since the last lot of screams and banging noises. For now, everything was silent. He checked his watch, the time read 12:43 am.
The witching hour
.

From down the corridor, a sound caught his attention – someone speaking, no, someone
singing
. His heart began to race again and his mind thought back to the reports that he'd read about the sightings of the young girl. He tested his torch and walked down the hallway, towards the source of the voice.

The voice was soothing, almost hypnotic. It got louder as he closed in. Passing down the hallway, he reached a junction where he had a choice of straight on or left. Standing still for a moment, he listened and then took the hallway to the left. Two doorways stood before him at the end of the corridor, one ahead and one on the right. He entered the room to the right as the voice continued to sing.

He shone the flashlight around the room; at first he saw nothing, he heard nothing – the singing had stopped. The room looked to be an old wash room, it contained some old metal racks that were presumably used for storing linen and bedding.

“Hello, is anyone there?”

No response came.

“I know you’re here,” he called out. “I heard you singing, don’t be afraid.”

A small bang from the far end of the room made him jump, he quickly shone the beam over as a small girl stepped out from behind one of the linen racks. Her curly blonde hair hung down to her shoulders and complimented her bright blue eyes and pink lips. She wore a dirty blue dress and no shoes upon her feet. He guessed that she would have been about ten-years-old. She gazed at Karl with those innocent blue eyes and he suddenly felt extremely at ease.

“Hello. What’s your name?”

She stood silent for a moment before responding. “Ruby.”

“What are you doing tucked away in here, Ruby?”

“Hiding.”

“Hiding? Hiding from who?”

“The soldiers. They attacked the hospital with mustard gas and started killing people. My Ma told me to run and hide.”

“And where is your Ma now?”

A look of sadness contorted the little girls face as she remembered. “When they came, she locked herself away but she heard them trying to break into the room. She would rather have killed herself than be taken prisoner, she slit her own wrists.”

Karl looked at the girl, such sadness and grief for someone so young.

Ruby looked up at Karl. “You should leave. It’s not safe here, he will find you.”

“Who will find me, what do you mean?”

She didn’t answer, she stopped and stared towards the door for a second, her face screwed up – a look of sheer terror fell over her face and panic appeared in her eyes.

She looked at Karl. “You must go. You must go -
now
! He’s here, He knows you’re here.”

She turned and ran from Karl, disappearing down the side of one of the linen racks. “Wait, who’s here?” He asked. “I don’t unders...”

A similar sound from outside sent a shiver down his spine. It was a sound that he had heard before - the sound of steel being dragged along brick.

He darted from the room. A door at the end of the corridor blocked his escape. Spinning around the light caught the figure ten feet away. The bulb from the torch caused a reflection in the gas mask and light refracting back at him made him squint. It continued its approach, the meat cleaver in its hand scraping along the brick wall.

He stood still, not wanting to repeat his action from his previous encounter with the figure. “Hello?” Karl shouted.

The figure in the mask did not answer.

“I mean you no harm,” he continued.

The figure stopped, and Karl wondered if he had made a connection with the thing. It held its hand up in front of its face, fingers outstretched, almost obscuring the gas mask from view. Karl continued to watch, confused as it slapped its open palm against the surface of the wall. Realisation dawned on Karl as the thing swung the meat cleaver down in an arc and thumped the blade into the back of its palm. All four fingers were immediately amputated as the digits dropped to the floor with a series of soft thuds.

Karl stared on in horror as the thing raised its hand again in front of its face. The blood was squirting from the openings where it had removed his fingers with the blade. Letting the blood drip and squirt down the glass front of the gas mask, it wiped the mess away with the back of the boiler suit sleeve. A sound began to fill the corridor from behind the gas mask – the sound of evil laughter.

Karl stood still for a moment.
Fuck this
. Turning, he sprinted for the door at the end of the corridor, unsure of where it led. He didn’t care.

Please be open, please be open.

Half running, half leaping, he shouldered the door, it fell open.

He hit the cold gravelled floor as he fell.  As he rolled, he grazed his elbow and back, wincing in pain. Jumping to his feet he looked around, he seemed to be in some kind of external courtyard area. It was about fifteen feet square and contained nothing but a small steel bench. Desperately searching around, he panicked when he realised that there was a tall cast iron spiked fence that surrounded the courtyard. It had been erected upon a two feet high brick wall – he was trapped.

Running over, he grabbed the bars and shook them, they were solid. From behind, he heard a bang of wooden door against frame, he span around - the maniac in the gas mask stood before him, his damaged hand dribbled blood over the gravel while the other held the meat cleaver aloft.

“What do you want from me?”

The man in the mask said nothing. He simply laughed, the sound echoing off the inside of his gas mask.

“
Fuck you!
” Karl shouted.

Dropping the flashlight, he turned and jumped up onto the low wall. His hands held as high as he could, he leapt up and started to pull himself up and over the top of the fence. As he dragged himself upwards he felt the tip of the spikes scratch against his chest. Breathing in, he threw his foot over, ramming it against the fence as he attempted to lever himself over without impaling himself. Struggling to pull his body weight up and over the fence, he had one more crucial move, literally throwing his body clear of the fence before landing on the ground below. The collision with the ground would hurt but at least he would be free. And alive. Looking back to the figure in the gas mask, it hadn’t moved, it looked on patiently.

Realising that he only had one more move before he was free of the fence, and would soon be plummeting towards the floor, Karl took a deep breath. Throwing his body weight sideways, he attempted to pull his leg clear. His jacket snagged the spike of the fence during the movement and jerked his momentum backwards, halting him in mid-air. His full body weight dragged his second leg down onto the tip of the fence. The metal rod pierced through his thigh with ease and punctured his femoral artery.

He screamed out in agony as he continued to slide and twist down the metal spike. Any attempt that he made to pull himself upwards or across opened the wound even further.  Within just a few seconds, he had lost an unbelievable amount of blood. Feeling light headed as the life drained from his body, he released his grip on the fence, he fell backwards and the back of his head smashed into the brick wall below, knocking him out cold. Impaled, he hung upside down from the fence, his arms hanging above his head as he bled out onto the floor below.