“Be careful,” she said. “You don’t want to get hurt.”

“I’ll try not to,” he replied.

They hugged. “Come back to me safe,” she added, squeezing him tight.

He patted her head in a reassuring manner. “Why wouldn’t I?” He sounded almost amused by her concern.

“Well, because.” Sherry stopped there. Because why? It was a good question. She was worried about something, but she didn’t know what. “I just don’t want you hurt.” That had to be it.

Jake only smiled at her, then turned to walk away. She could see blood running down his side. A wound in his shoulder, a wound in his side, and blood left behind by his footprints. She shouldn’t be concerned. He’d be fine.

Sherry turned away and walked down the hallway. It was a long hallway, doors intermittently placed. Of course it was the hall in the dormitory, she knew that. Now, which door was she looking for? Ah right! Just a little farther... Sherry froze when she heard scratching coming from behind a nearby door. It wasn’t the door she’d been looking for, thank goodness. That scratching sounded horrible. Like something was trying to claw its way out. Desperately trying to claw its way out. Sherry shivered and continued on, passing other doors, even some with strange sounds behind them, others seemed to have a smell coming from them. Something foul. Others felt cold. She wondered idly when they’d all been placed at such random intervals.

“Ah!” she said to herself. “Here!” Quite happily, she knocked on the door.

There was no answer. Not a single sound in the hall, or behind the door. Sherry knocked again. Nothing.

She tried the handle and found the door unlocked. So she went inside.

“Hey,” she said. An empty room greeted her. Not even empty. Hollow. Sure, it had a bed, and a desk, and a chair…but… dust covered everything. Thick dust, white dust, dust you could write your name in. All untouched and pristine. “Nevada?” This WAS the right room, wasn’t it? She’d moved out of Stormy’s room, and now she was here. This was where she had gone.

But it was empty.

“Are you home?” It was a silly question, but Sherry asked it anyway. She stepped farther into the room, her feet kicking up dust, making tracks in it. “Hey, I just wanted—“

Sherry stopped dead when she saw the closet. It was open. The dust went right up to the threshold, but no farther. After that, there was only darkness. Thick, solid, dark.

“Nevada?” Sherry looked around the room. Why was it so empty? Her friend should be here. She looked back at the closet. Something about that didn’t seem right. It looked like an abyss from which there was no return. But that was silly, because it was just a closet.

tick

The sound was quiet, so quiet she’d almost missed it. Even though it was the only sound in the whole place.

tick

Sherry stepped toward the closet, her feet making more tracks in the dust. Sun beams shone down, highlighting just how much dust she was kicking up. That seemed odd, though, because the windows were dark and boarded up.

tick

“Are you in here?”

She could hardly remember who she was looking for. Someone was supposed to be in this room. But it was so empty, almost like no one lived there. She looked again at the open closet. The darkness felt cold, and even emptier than the room she was in. Something tugged at her mind as she stared at it. It was like…

tick

What WAS that noise?

tick tick

It sounded like it was coming from the closet. Her hand rested on the doorframe. (When had she moved that close?) Cold seemed to radiate form the dark…though cold wasn’t the best way to describe it. Yet it was. Cold and empty. Missing.

tick

Sherry stepped inside, and as she did, she felt something tugging at her insides, her emotions. Something she barely remembered. With it was apprehension. Fear.

tick

Inside the closet was a table. For some reason she was surprised it wasn’t a dining table. Rather it was plain and square, the wood grain visible. Possibly it had been stained once, but now it was just gray and worn. Nearly rotting.

tick tick

On the table sat a clock, a classic metal thing, with bells on the top. “Oh.” That was the noise.

tick

The hands hadn’t moved.

Sherry looked around, befuddled. And cold. Something was wrong. Something was missing.

tick

She reached out and picked up the clock. Something was wrong with it. The hands wouldn’t move. What did that mean?

As she stared at it, it shifted, from an alarm clock to a wristwatch. The glass was cracked, but the hands still didn’t move. “Why aren’t you working? Are you… broken?”

tick

She was now staring at a pocket watch. Cracked, like the wristwatch. Broken. No…more than that. Just the glass was broken. “I know. You are…. You just need winding. Or a new battery.”

ba-thump The sound had changed, just slightly. Sherry barely noticed.

“There’s nothing to wind you with,” she said, turning the watch over in her hands. She could see the gears through a little window. They did not move.

ba-thump

“Must be the battery.” But…why would it need a new battery? Batteries didn’t… die. “Dead. Your batteries are dead.”

thump thump Was that her heart?

Sherry put the watch down on the table. No, not a watch. An hourglass. The glass was cracked. The sand inside was red, a beautiful, dark red. It began to leak, to flow out onto the table, liquid. Blood.

“Dead.” She said, panic rising. That was why she couldn’t find Nevada. She was dead. Dead, gone. Not coming back. “Dead.” Sherry wanted to cry.

thump ba-thump It was her heartbeat, she could hear that now.

The blood pooled on the desk, then fell to the floor.

Sherry looked at her hands. Bloody. Bloody and warm. She was freezing otherwise. She looked back up, Jake stood there, hands on the table, straining to hold himself up. He was bleeding all over the table. Hole in his shoulder, hole in his side. He smiled at her, apologetic. “I’m not coming back.”

“No,” she said. “Don’t say that.” The very thought terrified her. “Please!” A shiver ran through her as he smiled again, dark blood dripping from his mouth, joining the pool on the table. She took a step, and slipped in the blood under her boot. Falling forward, she failed to catch herself, her chin caching the edge of the table. Her teeth clacked and she tasted blood. The floor was ice cold underneath her. The table was gone, Jake was gone.

The darkness was empty. Empty, cold, fathomless.

Sherry was scared. Scared and alone and sad. Nevada was dead, not just down the hall, not gone, but dead.

Jake was dying, and she couldn’t help him. She had to help him.

Sherry tried to push herself up off the floor. Her hand sank into something soft. Soft…warm. Wrong. Looking down, she saw a body. More than one. A whole pile of rotting, dead bodies.

Sherry screamed. They were warm and she was freezing, but she wanted away. Every time she moved, tried to push herself up, she just…sank more. More and more, until she was under.

It was warm and suffocating, wet and slick and heavy. She screamed again, the sound muffled. The more she flailed, the more she sank. She could feel herself sinking more. The bodies were rotting, and underneath, it was like a warm soup. Fluids and parts.

Sherry panicked. She flailed, she cried, and she screamed. Warm liquid filled her mouth, filled her boots, soaked her clothing, and pulled her down.

She was going to die. And she was terrified.

Sherry woke up screaming.