Hell over high water

Clare followed him, muttering a Hail Mary under her breath.

 

Something caught Dana's eye - something glass, peeking out from beneath a table. He sunk to his knees and saw that it was wine bottle - still unopened. He hesitated, then picked it up by the neck. It wasn't particularly heavy, but it wasn't light as a feather, either. He swung it like a club, and nearly bashed Roger over the head.

Dana gasped in surprise, for he didn't know the smaller boy was right next to him. "Oh, sorry!" he said, lowering the bottle and blushing slightly.

He froze. It wasn't Roger kneeling beside him, it was someone else. He looked just like the boy, only his hair was a dark brown and he was missing the scab on his chin.

Who...?

"Hey, Dana," called Roger from across the room, "I think I fou---"

He stopped, and Dana turned to see what was wrong. Roger stared passed him, holding what appeared to be a steak knife. The look on his face was a mixture of surprise and confusion.

Suddenly, something grabbed ahold of Dana, jerking him backwards and gripping him tightly. It was the boy - the one who looked like Roger. He pressed something sharp to Dana's throat, moving it slowly and gently up the side of his jaw.

A moment's pause, then blinding pain.

Dana was thrown to the ground, gripping his left ear and screaming. His ear, his ear, the guy cut his freaking ear!

Roger rushed forward, hacking the knife at the stranger before dropping down beside Dana.

He didn't know what to do? What could he do?

Dana's hand slipped for a second and he saw the damage. He'd been sliced straight down the middle, from the top of the ear to the hole. It was bleeding like hell, dripping down the side of the older boy's face, mixing with his tears of pain. He wailed like a dying animal, and Roger didn't know what to do.

That boy - the one who looked like him, he was gone. But, he'd left his knife, the blade stained copper. Roger didn't know where his knife had landed, so he grabbed the bloody one and held it tightly. Was he gone? Or would he come back? Roger didn't know, but he wanted to be ready, just in case.

((bleh. ucky post. I gotta go now - try not to go all the way to page 40 before i get back, 'kay? :redface: ))

 

Armel crept back to his room avoiding the passengers. So long as he could stay away he would be fine. No one really paid much attention to him anyway. He seemed to have this dreary air that had people stepping around him or rolling their eyes as though he was a piece of garbage someone had dropped, of the worst kind. They were right to avoid him, he was nothing but trouble bad things seemed to happen wherever he went.

 

The door was locked. On the other side he could hear Ms. Bequem's screams. "No! You ... can't be ....no!"

Pem kept pounding on the door, but it wouldn't budge. The greasy presence of of the demon began to ooze into the hallway. Once again Pem began to chant in Latin.

 

Jean struggled at the door, but it seemed to be locked from the other side. She didn’t remember there being a key. The room seemed to darken around her, the shadows moving past her like a breeze. She shook in fear, her heart racing.

She turned back and saw the women, she seemed to smile at her. She closed her eyes. Then opened them again only to see the women now had a look of anger. She turned around banged on the door. She could hear the yell of the ghost woman from behind.

The sudden pain of nails digging into her back sent her into a state of panic. She rolled into a ball as the claws dug at her back. She screamed as the claws dug in like a cat clawing a pole.

The woman seemed to yell angrily, as she heard the chanting. The clawing stopped and Jean stumbled backwards. The room stayed cool, but the… creature seemed to have disappeared at the Reverend’s words. She ran for the door, and it opened.

 

Cain awoke with a start. He had been dreaming a horrible dream, filled with monsters and demons. And now that he had woken up, he realized that it wasn't just a dream.

He grabbed his glasses and jumped on the floor. Looking under his bed, he grabbed his suitcase and pulled it out. He reached inside and found his pistol, hidden in there in case of an emergency. He knew no more accurate term for emergency that what he was facing now.

He opened the door and headed out, looking for Pem.

 

With a rattle, the door swung open. Ms. Bequem ran into the Reverend.

 

Jean didn't stop running until she reached the far wall. She was sure she had knocked down the Reverend but at that moment she didn't care. She frantically wiped the blood from her hands. Wounds from her own nails. Wounds from sheer terror. Her back throbbed painfully and she shook uncontrollably, mumbling to herself.

"Not real." she mumbled, "Not real." She almost chanted it, not sure she was able to stop as her heart hammered.

"Not real."

 

"Ms. Bequem, the girl that was with you, where is she?"

 

Dana curled into a ball on the ground, wailing and screaming in pain. Roger gripped the bloodied knife with both hands, pale and shaking with fear, waiting for that boy - that thing - to come back.

After what seemed like forever, Roger decided that maybe it wasn't coming back, and considered going to find the Reverend or someone for help. At the same time, he didn't want to leave Dana here by himself. Not in this state, anyway.

There was a shreik from somewhere down the hall. A woman screaming - it wasn't that woman, the one with the little girl, was it?

Roger swallowed hard. It had begun to rain - he could hear it get heavier and heavier outside. Like something out of a scary story, out of a nightmare. Just how did he get himself into this?

 

She momentarily looked at Clair, and tried to control her voice as she began to speak.

"Isn't she on the bed?" she asked. She slowly got up from the wall, a shot of pain going through her back. She looked in the mirror and could see the many long scratches down her back. She'd need them cleaned before they got infected.

 

Reverend Pem ran into Mouse's room. It was empty. On the wall, just above her pillow he could make out the faint outline of a face. It silently mouthed the words, "Are we having fun yet?"

 

Clare followed after the Reverend. Gasping loudly at the face outline in the wall. "R-re-reverend!!"

 

WIth a final silent chuckle, the face receeded. As Clare reached Pem shoulder the Reverend looked at the ax in her hand. "We should look for Mouse. I just hope we aren't too late."

"Where do we start?" asked Clare.

"The ship's big. We had better start by searching the room."

 

"Yes...yes.." Clare repeated. "Reverend, here." She offered the rosary beads back to Pem.

 

Pem put his hand up. "No Clare, hold on to them." He patted the left side of his jacket. "I still have the good book."

The pair then began examining the room.

 

"Reverend, do you think they might have taken her?" There was also the option that she was hiding, but with everything that was going around, Clare wasn't think of that option.

 

Pem cautiously approached Mouse's bed. He pulled back the sheets and looked underneath the bed. Nothing.

He looked up at Clare. "I think she was too scared to hide from us. I hope I'm wrong, but ...." They stared at each other, there was no need for Pem to finish.

A shrill cackle broke the silence making both of them jump.

"Look!" shrieked Clare.

Bloody foot prints were starting to appear on the floor.

 

Her heart hammered and she quickly ignored the pain and fear that corrupted her. Mouse was missing. She didn’t look at the footsteps in fear, she looked at them as the path to Mouse… she just hoped that wasn’t Elizabeth’s blood. Though she did take notice they were the footsteps of most likely a woman. She ran after the footsteps as the seemed to be in a hurry. She ran after them, following them as close behind as her old legs could carry her. They suddenly made a turn, and stopped in front of a room. The door opened halfway, and she looked at the sign.

“Room 13” it read.

 

Ms. Bequem pushed the door open. Mouse was sleeping peacefully. SHe ran over hugging the girl and shaking her from her sleep.

"Huh?" said Mouse.

Ms. Bequem smiled. "Nothing Elizabeth you were .... sleep walking. COme on, lets go back to our room."

Groggily, Mouse let Ms. Bequem lead her out. Halfwat down the hall, Clare tapped Pem on the shoulder and pointed to a ship's directory hanging from the wall. A chill went down the Reverend's spine. There was no room 13.

 

"We should...find everyone else..." Clare clutched the rosary and the hatchet, she felt safer holding both.

 

Pem nodded. "Let's get back to the lounge."

 

They got to the lounge, and looked in shock as she saw the hurt boy. He had his hand over his ear, while his friend sat next to him. She let go of Mouse's hand, and ran for the nearest closet. She took out some alcohol and bandages, and quickly ran back with them. Her back throbbed painfully as she kneel down next to him.

"Reverend. Do you know how we can take care of this wound?" she said, gently combing her hand through the boy's hair.

 

Pem shook his head. "Maybe the first mate does."

 

Dana bit his lip, moaning in agony. Roger watched as the woman knelt down beside him, glad that they weren't alone anymore.

He glanced down at the knife in his hand, stained in Dana's blood. He ran a hand over the side of the blade for no reason in particular. His fingers were stained red, but most of the blood was beginning to dry. How long had they been here?