“Get set.”
Ellis and I join hands, clinging to one another like a lifeline.
“Go!”
I’m too fucking smart to die.
Shoving, pushing, screaming, we move. I’m not exactly sure which exit we take, but I follow the feet in front of me. We scatter like shards from a broken bottle.
Someone’s elbow impales between my shoulder blades. My arm gets scratched by another sister, trying to hold herself up. Ellis keeps shoving us forward until there’s enough space to find a staircase. Several of us head that way, though some split off and hurry down another hall.
It’s too dark to know where we’re going. So we follow blindly.
“We should split off,” I tell Ellis in a harsh whisper.
“But some of these are seniors. They’ll know where to go,” she argues.
Shrieks of terror arise in front of us, and we come to a rapid halt. Half the group turns and runs the opposite way, and we behold the sight in front of us.
Floorboards hang like broken bones, falling into the room beneath us.
“This is…notstructurally sound,” I murmur through gritted teeth as we aim down a different hall.
We reach a series of closed doors on either side of us, gray in the dim light seeping through tiny cracks in the outside walls. Screeching wails of the frigid wind seep through, cutting across my cheeks.
As I sprint toward a new hall, my arm is yanked back. Pain slices down my limbs as I freeze, holding my breath so I don’t cry out. Glancing down, I shudder, spying the glass shards that just ripped through my hoodie into my skin. I clamp a hand over the mess. This can’t slow me down.
“There has to be an old worker set of stairs somewhere near,” Ellis says, and I nod in agreement.
“Keep moving. We’ll find one eventually. The smoke should rise toward the attic spaces first. Watch where it moves.”
Some of the girls toss open doors, scurrying inside to find places to hide.
My heart thunders at a rapid pace as we hear the blare of a trumpet sound, vibrating the worn carpet under our feet. We freeze and hold our breaths.
Shouts and yells coming from far away sound like a layer of Dante’s Inferno. Demons turned loose to stir chaos.
“I’m not getting tagged.” I hurry around one corner, but it’s just another long series of doors.
“Me neither.”
A few of the women behind us follow along, as if we know where we’re heading.
The ones in front have peeled off into rooms or found a way to hide.
Footsteps clamor with the same force echoing in my chest. I grab Ellis and hurry forward as the girls just over my shoulder screech.
“Got two!”
“Tag them! Tag them!”
The unmistakable sound of zippers lowering has me sprinting forward. As we round another corner, a couple ofmen keep after us. Sisters lie on the ground, squirming, punching, kicking. But they’re overtaken by a group of men surrounding them. Their horrified screams rattle me.
I toss open a skinny door, tug Ellis in, and slam it shut behind us. Fortunately, there’s another one in the corner, and we rush through it, trying to shake off the masked men who spotted us.
We enter another room. Then another. A bathroom. Then a child’s room. Or what was… A terrifying baby’s crib lies in the corner. And in the center is a pile of cinder blocks.
“Grab one of those as a weapon. I’m going to hide in the wardrobe. Get under the crib!”