Bea was right; it always did.
I took off my shirt and wiped my face, surveying the area. We’d transformed the basement into a spooky rave paradise.
Drawing on first-hand accounts and grainy pics—I’d eagerly researched the gruesome history of this place—I’d painted rusted cell doors and bloody examination curtains. I’d dressed mannequins in gore-stained straightjackets (thanks, eBay). Bea, Joe, and I had spattered lab coats to wear as well.
In the promotion biz, presentation was everything.
I was beaming I was so proud of them. Of us.
Suddenly, a breeze gusted inside the area, scattering our trash pile of boxes and wrappers. I scratched my head. No way a wind could reach this basement, and it was too strong to be a draft.
Before I could determine the source of the wind, vertigo seized me. The room seemed to be spinning. No, I was spinning! Yet at the same time some kind of weight pressed down on my body.
What the hell is happening to me?
I felt like gravity affected me more than ever before! Pressure made my legs buckle. I went to my knees, my panicked gaze darting. That wind increased and grew hot, spiraling around me. The spinning sensation intensified. Any more, and I’d lose consciousness.
I tried to call for Joe and Bea. They were still outside, would never hear me down here. What was taking them so long?
Spinning, spinning. Blackness was about to overwhelm me! My eyes slid closed, and gravity made my body collapse. . . .
_______________
I woke on the floor in the basement, in total confusion—and darkness.
Our staging lamps weren’t on? The generator must’ve conked out. A chill skittered up my spine. Then how long had I been unconscious? I called, “Bea? Joe?” No answer. I tentatively sat up. “Por Dios, my head!” It was splitting.
I must’ve had some kind of aneurism or something. What else could explain my hallucinations from earlier, my collapse? “Where are you guys?” Yelling magnified the pain in my skull, but I didn’t care. “Answer me. . . .” I trailed off when I heard footsteps in the stairwell. “Guys?” A soft wail sounded in the darkness. Then a deeper one. “Who’s there?”
Fear made my heart thunder, my pulse racing. I would give anything to see! “Who’s down here?” In the dark basement with me.
Some light kicked on, faint at first, then growing stronger. I glanced behind me, trying to find the source—then frowned down at my chest. Lost my breath. “Qué coño es esto?” What the fuck is that?
My flesh . . . it glowed. I was giving off more light than our staging lamps would. My skin grew brighter and brighter.
I craned my head up, lost my breath. Looming over me were two . . . monstruos!
Monsters with weathered and creased faces. Cracked lips. Pale eyes running with pus.
Why were those creatures wearing Bea and Joe’s clothes? “I-Is this a prank?” I gazed from one to the other, disbelieving my eyes. These things were Joe and Bea! “Cariño? Querida?” Bea’s filmy gaze focused on my neck. No, my throat—
Joe lunged for me, sending me flying. “What the hell are you doing?” I smacked the ground, the force stealing my breath.
He leapt atop me; I thrashed, shoving against his big chest. He snared one of my flailing arms. His teeth sank into my skin!
I yelled from the pain. “Joe, why . . . what???” He was sucking my blood!
Bea dropped to her knees and joined him, seizing and biting my other arm.
“Ahh! Why are you . . . you can’t . . .” They were drinking me!
My cordless drill lay on the ground nearby. If I could free one of my arms, I could snag it and bash Bea’s head, then use it on Joe.
No! Everything in me rebelled. I’d rather die than harm them. “Please don’t make me hurt you!” Please stop biting!
Both of them stopped, releasing my skin. Let me go! They dropped my arms.
I scuttled back, thinking, Get away from me, get away. They rose and backed up several steps, their movements almost robotic. As I dragged myself to my feet, they just stood there, swaying slightly in unison. Was I somehow controlling them? Mentally?
I pictured them walking a step back, then a step forward.
They did the same.
I was controlling them! Why was this happening to us? This whole situation seemed supernatural, but I didn’t believe in hocus-pocus bullshit. Maybe they’d been bitten by something rabid down here, a bat or something.
So why was I still glowing?
“I-I’m going to get you to a hospital.” Tears welled in my eyes. “Doctors will make you better.” Then I pictured how others would react to my girlfriend and boyfriend.
Their skin was leathery. Those pale eyes were blank. My blood stained each one’s cracked lips and chin.
The two looked like . . . bloodthirsty zombies. Like I might dress them in costume. But this was real. Right?
Steps sounded in the stairwell once more. More of the leather-faced creatures shuffled inside. Something outside had turned them. Had turned my Bea and Joe.
Into zombies.
I was in an insane asylum. And maybe I belonged here. . . .
Judgment (XX)
Gabriel Arendgast, the Archangel
“I watch you like a hawk.”
A.k.a.: The Seventh Coming, the Guardian Angel, Exalted One, Gabriel of the Light
Powers: Flight, supernatural senses, speed, strength, healing, tracking, and endurance.
Special Skills: Enhanced aiming, swordsmanship.
Weapons: In past games, he wielded the Sword of Right, but it was stolen.
Tableau: An archangel carrying a sword, flying over a mass of bodies.
Icon: A pair of wings.