The woman at the stove’s eyes were the same. Sewn shut with black wire and an “X.” She stirred the pot, seemingly uncaring of the state of her eyes.
A terrible, ominous feeling hit me. What was this? Even the woman on the television screen had the “X” eyes.
“Carl, Carl! Look!” Donut said, pointing as we passed a table covered with photos. The line of photos featured the same couple along with a few others in various poses. Donut pointed at a single photo, turned slightly askew, possibly angled so the man on the couch couldn’t look upon it, if he could see. “It’s Tran!”
This was a younger photo of the crawler, but it was clearly him. Tran. He smiled big in the photo, holding what appeared to be a badminton racket. His was the only photo of them all that didn’t have the sewn-shut, blocked-out eyes. Even the photos of the dog had the strange eyes. The photo of Tran had an incense burner in front of it that wasn’t currently lit, but a whole pile of ash littered the table. Multiple small crosses dangled off the photo.
Louis: This is bullshit. My mom doesn’t even live in an apartment.
Elle: Guys, this is some spooky shit. Remember Dmitri and Maxim Popov? The twins? I think we’re in their mom’s apartment. There are pictures of them everywhere. But the mom’s eyes are sewn shut. There’s a goddamned poodle in here with her eyes sewn shut, too. It’s really fucked-up.
Prepotente: Their mother appears to have been a big fan of the color pink.
Louis: My mom is here. A lot of her stuff is here, but she’s a giant. There’s a picture of me on the wall, but it’s not real. It’s me graduating college or some shit. I never did. And I’m, like, way thinner.
Donut: IT’S A RIP-OFF OF THAT WEIRDCORALINEMOVIE.
Louis: This is going to be like that hydra on the eighth floor. I thought they weren’t doing this anymore.
We gently hit the carpeted floor, which was like landing in heavy brush. The explosive I’d thrown was somewhere in the carpet far behind us, but it wouldn’t go off until I hit the detonator. I popped back up and tossed several more in multiple directions.
“Another apartment right below us,” Nester called.
Mordecai: I do not know what a “human shell” is. That’s a new one to me.
Elle: The dog here is called a dog shell.
Louis: It’s my mom’s name, Lady Bird, but it also says she’s a shell. She hasn’t noticed us yet.
Donut: YOUR MOM’S NAME IS LADY BIRD?
Louis: HOLY SHIT! I’m here! It’s me! But I’m in, like, good shape! What the hell? I don’t have “X” eyes. Dude, this is fucking bizarre.
Tipid: Shit, guys. Don’t kill the shells. We had them in my season. I haven’t seen them since. They’ll be filled with something else. I don’t know what. Some sort of mob.
Racers were suddenly everywhere, appearing from all angles, driving under doors. I was assuming we were invisible to the two humans because so far, neither had...
“What, what, what the hell?” the man suddenly called, jerking upright on the couch, towering over everything. “Gah!” he shouted, swiping at something. A round Volkswagen Bugcar flew across the apartment and crunched against a wall, clattering down. “What is this! What is this!” the man shouted.
“Get us out of here!” I called.
Pontiff increased the wheel size, and he moved toward the ring.
“Hold on,” Pontiff yelled as we passed under it.
A loudpingsounded.
Gate One of Seven cleared.
Ahead, the woman screamed, and she had a broom in her hand. She was smacking down on the various cars and animals rushing about the room. Someone shot a fireball at the woman, and the broom burst into flames. The woman shrieked and turned out of sight.
“Hole!”
Donut didn’t hesitate. “Hold on!” She castHoleright in the carpet in front of our path, and we dropped down just as heavy smoke started to fill the first apartment.
Entering apartment 614.
We slowly dropped through the air. The layout was completely different, and we were dropping into a bedroom, right onto a king-sized bed that was tightly made. There wasn’t anybody in this room, but there was a poster on the wall featuring the band Menudo. All their eyes were crossed out.