Bad things come to those who try
The Twins
With a deep breath, I entered. No bodies remained. Parts were strewn about the room, but they weren’t anything that could be considered a body any longer. So That had followed me to the kids when I did what I did.
“God I hate these little fuckers.” Thom had followed me. Scalpels were laying on the ground, so I picked up a couple and wrapped them up in a bit of cloth that I found until I find some clothes to wear.
“Is there any clothing in my room?” I asked him to which he nodded.
“Yeah, they got you some new clothes since they needed the other stuff for evidence.”
“Evidence?”
“They thought that you killed everybody,” he replied, “since your fingerprints were everywhere.”
“Shit!”
When I returned to my room I entered it cautiously. It was empty, save for a stack of clothes with a bloodied knife set down upon them. Without touching it and getting my fingerprints on it, I removed my clothes from underneath it and put them on. Strangely enough there was no blood on the clothes even though the blood on the blade looked fresh.
“Hey, why don’t you take that knife with you?” Thom asked me when I had finished changing. I looked at the blade that now lay on the floor.
“I refuse to touch it,” I replied, “there’s something not quite right about that damn blade and I am not going near it. Neither should you, the scalpels will do for now. At least they’ll be sharp enough.”
He didn’t argue so the blade was left on the floor. Once my brain caught up with me I realized that there wasn’t anyone walking the halls. Unusual behavior for a hospital, even one so small as this. And where were the police officers that were supposed to accuse me of being a murderer? I’m not saying I’m not a murderer, just falsely accused in this case.
I nudged Thom and gestured at the silence. He nodded and made an ugly face indicating he didn’t like it.
“This is getting really fucking ridiculous.” He muttered as we checked room after room.
Every room that used to hold a patient no longer held anything resembling a body, the same fashion of killing as in the operating room. I had a sturdy stomach but I was recovering from the stay at the hospital and lack of eating upon waking so I was getting nauseous with each new murder.
Finally, as we encroached upon the cafeteria, we heard a child’s giggle.
Out came the scalpels and two new blades that we had found along the way.
Thom took one side of the doors and I took the other. Before we entered I chanced a look inside and saw the most disgusting sight I had ever seen.
Children age well when they grow up at the normal speed, but because of whatever was possessing these things they had aged within a few days what takes most people ten years or so. They also decided that they didn’t need to wear any sort of clothing because the blood that drenched them covered them in a way. It still wasn’t enough to cover them completely.
Their arms and legs were tattooed with the stretch marks caused from their growth spurts. Their torsos were twisted, as though they had grown up only after they had turned their upper torso around in a full circle once. Their faces were gaunt and ghastly, covered in blood and pocked with acne. Their hair hung to their waist in wet stringy tendrils.
They jumped around like monkeys and laughed at the blood that surrounded them and the people that it once belonged to.
I quietly took a deep breath and they turned and looked at me.
“God I hate these little fuckers.” Thom had followed me. Scalpels were laying on the ground, so I picked up a couple and wrapped them up in a bit of cloth that I found until I find some clothes to wear.
“Is there any clothing in my room?” I asked him to which he nodded.
“Yeah, they got you some new clothes since they needed the other stuff for evidence.”
“Evidence?”
“They thought that you killed everybody,” he replied, “since your fingerprints were everywhere.”
“Shit!”
When I returned to my room I entered it cautiously. It was empty, save for a stack of clothes with a bloodied knife set down upon them. Without touching it and getting my fingerprints on it, I removed my clothes from underneath it and put them on. Strangely enough there was no blood on the clothes even though the blood on the blade looked fresh.
“Hey, why don’t you take that knife with you?” Thom asked me when I had finished changing. I looked at the blade that now lay on the floor.
“I refuse to touch it,” I replied, “there’s something not quite right about that damn blade and I am not going near it. Neither should you, the scalpels will do for now. At least they’ll be sharp enough.”
He didn’t argue so the blade was left on the floor. Once my brain caught up with me I realized that there wasn’t anyone walking the halls. Unusual behavior for a hospital, even one so small as this. And where were the police officers that were supposed to accuse me of being a murderer? I’m not saying I’m not a murderer, just falsely accused in this case.
I nudged Thom and gestured at the silence. He nodded and made an ugly face indicating he didn’t like it.
“This is getting really fucking ridiculous.” He muttered as we checked room after room.
Every room that used to hold a patient no longer held anything resembling a body, the same fashion of killing as in the operating room. I had a sturdy stomach but I was recovering from the stay at the hospital and lack of eating upon waking so I was getting nauseous with each new murder.
Finally, as we encroached upon the cafeteria, we heard a child’s giggle.
Out came the scalpels and two new blades that we had found along the way.
Thom took one side of the doors and I took the other. Before we entered I chanced a look inside and saw the most disgusting sight I had ever seen.
Children age well when they grow up at the normal speed, but because of whatever was possessing these things they had aged within a few days what takes most people ten years or so. They also decided that they didn’t need to wear any sort of clothing because the blood that drenched them covered them in a way. It still wasn’t enough to cover them completely.
Their arms and legs were tattooed with the stretch marks caused from their growth spurts. Their torsos were twisted, as though they had grown up only after they had turned their upper torso around in a full circle once. Their faces were gaunt and ghastly, covered in blood and pocked with acne. Their hair hung to their waist in wet stringy tendrils.
They jumped around like monkeys and laughed at the blood that surrounded them and the people that it once belonged to.
I quietly took a deep breath and they turned and looked at me.