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This chapter continues the story of what Carlos endured that morning. He remembered this chain of events with total recall and as he conveyed what happened next, his voice tightened and it became obvious that it took all of his strength to continue telling this bizarre story.204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ39V4jXqSP3
204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡY0lCGiIrKh
204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVmoXpAE480
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204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFqe50UJK1C
Despite his exhaustion, Carlos's resolve burned hot within him, fueled by anger and determination. Ignoring the protests of his weary body, he rose from the couch and stormed out of his house, his jaw set in a fierce grimace. With each step toward the resort, his fury intensified, overshadowing any lingering fear or doubt.
Returning to the renovated building, Carlos pushed open the doors with a newfound determination, his heart pulsing with adrenaline as he prepared to confront the malevolent forces that dwell within. Inside, the darkness seemed to welcome him like an old foe, but he refused to falter. With gritted teeth and steely determination, he pressed forward, ready to face whatever horrors awaited him in the depths of the haunted resort.
Back in the barroom, he looked warily toward the cactus. It was intact.... as if the monster that had burst forth from it had never existed. Now even more disgusted, he retrieved his bag of items, walked back into the main ballroom, crossed the dance floor, and disappeared behind the stage. With resolve burning in his veins, he descended once more into the eerie depths of the tunnels beneath the former Lone Star High School via the hidden passageway concealed beneath the stage. Even though he could not see anyone, he felt as if he was being watched. With a mixture of trepidation and determination, Carlos swiftly located the secret passage that led him to the vicinity of the dreaded Plastic Room. Emerging from the hatchway, he cautiously crossed the threshold into the cubicle, scanning its contents with watchful eyes.
To his right were yellow strained walls lined with gray, metal shelving. Stacks of dirty plates, trays, and cups sat on the shelves. To his left was a rusty, steel door that was covered in white, woven spider thread. From the look of things, the door had been shut for years. Straight ahead was a set of stairs that led up to the ceiling and stopped.
"That's nuts!" Carlos told himself as he wondered why someone would build a set of stairs that led nowhere. He had noticed the stairs before but never gave it any thought until now.
As he stood there, staring through the room, he spied a pickaxe lying near the stairs, just in front of him. He crossed the room, bent over, and picked it up. With a smirk on his face, he raised the tool over his head and struck the floor with all his might, the sharp tine of the axe piercing the floor like a bullet penetrating someone's flesh. He struck the floor several more times, and, each time, the flooring gave way to his hammering blows until he had made a hole big enough to crawl into.
Carlos knew that Buck would have a cow if he knew he was out here tearing up the floor, but at the time he didn't care. He was determined to unravel the mystery behind this madness and put a stop to it, once and for all.
He knelt, then lay on his belly next to the hole. He pulled out a penlight from his shirt pocket and directed the beam under the flooring as he stuck his head inside the darkness, smelling the cold, moist musty air of the tunnel. As he looked in all directions he felt a surge of excitement when he saw what appeared to be a hidden well. It was about ten feet in front of him. The hole looked as if it either caved in, or someone had filled it over. That didn't matter to Carlos at the time. Adelaide told him his answer was there, so he kept searching the darkness until he saw what appeared to be a notebook of some sort. He stretched his arm as far as he could, fumbling with the book until he had it within his grasp. He pulled it out of the hole, and sat up on the floor, inspecting his find.
"It's part of somebody's diary." He muttered the words out loud as he wiped the dirt from the old, yellow pages and tried to read the words written down.
"I'm Eleanor, but everyone knows me as Sunflower, shining bright in the shadows of life's groovy garden," the diary read. "Whoever stumbles upon this, please, you gotta help me! I'm trapped in a nightmare, a prison straight in the depths of Hell! Search Room 307, man, you gotta help me out of this nightmare!"
There were only three of what appeared to be many pages of this notebook, and Carlos had just read the only thing written inside it. Finding this part of Sunflower's diary made no sense to him. He couldn't figure out how finding this little tidbit of information was going to help him solve anything, but maybe the answer was in "Room 307." That was where he would head next. Besides, Sunflower had always been a friend, and, if she needed his help, he was going to do whatever he had to to give her peace.
As Carlos climbed to his feet, a creeping, rotten stench, coming from nowhere, yet everywhere, quickly filled the room causing him to become instantly nauseous. He coughed and gagged until he threw up.
Dropping the book back through the hole, he raced from the Plastic Room and escaped through the back door near the railroad tracks, where he fell to his knees, still debilitated by the vicious odor. He knew some evil presence had sent that stench into the room for one reason: it wanted him out.
Trying to regain his composure, he sat on the ground wondering if he should go back inside. His face and arms were covered with red splotches and he felt as if something was underneath the first layer of his skin, crawling and moving inside his body. He gritted his teeth and stood to his feet staring at the open door wondering what new horrors would await him once he stepped back into what he'd dubbed "Hell's Kitchen."
Swallowing his fear, Carlos slowly moved back into the building. He cautiously moved through the lonely hallway, his eyes probing every inch of it until he stepped into the Plastic Room. He crossed the floor and knelt next to the hole to retrieve the diary, but to his surprise, the notebook was gone. He jerked out his penlight and shined it into the hole looking in all directions under the floor but to no avail. Some unseen force had stolen the text, but it didn't matter; he'd already read what Sunflower had written. Standing up, he shook his head in awe, turned, and walked out of the room.
Carlos navigated through the labyrinthine corridors of the resort, passing by the former sites of lockers and classroom doors. He started from the main entrance, heading down the east wing corridor, taking a left at the intersection, then making a right turn past the stairwell. From there, he headed straight, passing another intersection, until he reached the central hub of the building. Taking the corridor to the right, he continued down the hall, passing rows of guestrooms and another stairwell on his left. Finally, he arrived at Room 307 after a series of twists and turns through the maze-like layout of Buck's place.
As Carlos stood before the locked door of Room 307, frustration building, his gaze shifted to his right, where an unexpected sight met his eyes: a sledgehammer. Its presence puzzled him — he was certain it wasn't there before. Could someone be trying to aid him in his quest? If so, then it had to be either Adelaide or Sunflower. With a mix of curiosity and determination, he decided not to question this stroke of luck and reached for the hammer, his grip firm and resolute.
"Here goes nothing," he muttered. With a single mighty swing, Carlos brought the sledgehammer crashing down upon the door, the force behind it enough to shatter the lock and splinter the wood. The door groaned in protest before succumbing to the blow, its hinges torn from the frame as it collapsed to the ground in a cloud of dust and debris. Carlos stood triumphant, his heart pounding with adrenaline as he surveyed the now-open doorway before him, his path forward clear.
As Carlos flicked on the light switch, the room was bathed in a dim, flickering glow, revealing a scene frozen in time. Room 307 appeared desolate and forgotten, untouched by the renovations that transformed other parts of the building. The air hung heavy with the musty scent of neglect, and cobwebs were draped across every surface, like veils of forgotten memories. Buck's team had yet to breathe life into this forgotten space, understandable given the monumental task of revitalizing the entire school. In the dim light, the room felt eerily lifeless, as if it holding secrets long buried beneath layers of dust and neglect.
Carlos settled into an uneasy wait, half-expecting some supernatural entity to materialize in the dimly lit room. Yet, to his relief, no eerie presence manifested itself, and the room remained ominously silent. As the minutes ticked by, Carlos's tension gradually eased, replaced by a growing sense of impatience and frustration. Finally, unable to bear the stillness any longer, he cast his gaze around the room, searching for any sign of the paranormal.
To his surprise, his eyes alighted upon what appeared to be a small closet tucked away in a corner of the room. Intrigued, Carlos approached cautiously, his steps muffled by the thick layer of dust coating the floor. As he reached out to grasp the door handle, a shiver ran down his spine, anticipation mingling with apprehension. With a deep breath, he pulled open the door, unsure of what he would find lurking within.
Carlos cautiously stepped into the closet, the dim light casting eerie shadows across the stacks of dusty boxes that lined the shelves. The air was thick with the musty scent of old paper as he began to sift through the contents. His eyes widened in disbelief as he discovered a collection of articles chronicling the dark history of the campus—tales of murders, tragic accidents, and antiwar demonstrations that once rocked the halls of Lone Star High.
As he delved deeper, his fingers trembling slightly, he uncovered obituaries for teachers and students long gone, their names had faded with time but their stories were hauntingly preserved in the yellowed pages. Yet, amidst the morbid collection, one item stood out—a yearbook from 1972, its pages filled with frozen smiles and youthful innocence. But as Carlos flipped through the pages, the faces seemed to contort into grotesque sneers before abruptly returning to normal, sending a shiver down his spine.
With cautious fingers, Carlos sifted through the disorganized boxes, his heart pounding with anticipation. His breath caught as he finally discovered what he was tasked to search for—the missing fragment of Sunflower's diary, nestled at the bottom of a dusty box.
"This is it," he whispered. He quickly thumbed through the dusty pages that had yellowed with age until he came to the first entry.,
"April 15, 1970," Carlos read out loud. "Saw Buck today at school. He was arguing with those slimeball pushers again, threatening him like always. My heart ached with fear as they threatened him. I'd rather croak than breathe a day without him by my side."
Carlos felt he'd violated Sunflower by reading her personal diary, but he had to continue. After all, he was elated to find he wasn't crazy. This ghost, Sunflower, was indeed a true being, someone of the past, not a figment of his imagination. Carlos began wiping beads of sweat from his forehead as he sat in the hot, humid shadows of the small closet reading Sunflower's notes.
"Man, I feel like total crap tonight. Been tossing my cookies every damn day, and I know what's up," the diary continued. "But what's gonna happen when pops finds out? Will he go all psycho and off Buck, just like those creepers threatened? I can't even deal. Decided there's only one move left for me and Buck: Mexico. His folks are total burnouts, wouldn't even notice if he split. And Buck's been wheeling and dealing with some heavy hitters down south. Cops down there don't give a rat's behind as long as there's cash flowing. Thinking we could score a sweet hacienda and live it up like freaking Spanish royalty. But I ain't risking squat, especially with a bun in the oven."
As Carlos read these words aloud, they resonated with the slang and attitude of a teenager forced to grapple with adult decisions and the consequences of her actions. Nevertheless, he read on: "Man, this whole scene's getting sketchier by the minute. Buck's got these loonies hot on his tail, like they're itching to put him down for good. They're straight-up nuts, talking smack about Buck like they've got a clue. But hell, I'm crazy about that guy. We gotta tread real careful 'round here 'cause those wackos won't rest till they've got Buck in their sights. No way I'm letting that happen. We're stuck on this Lone Star High School campus for now, but Mexico's calling our names loud and clear. Gotta make our move soon, before things get even uglier."
Turning to the next page, Carlos wondered if he would find anything of value. The sweat continued beading on his flushed face and dripped to the floor as he read on.
"Tuesday at Lone Star High, and things are heating up fast. We gotta bounce before the bell rings at 3:15, no time to waste. I'm packing nothing but the clothes on my back; ain't gonna matter 'cause Buck's got connections in Mexico who'll front us all the cash we need. Can't wait to ditch this Houston scene; I'm over it, don't give a damn what my folks think anymore. It's me and Buck against the world, forever and always."
Pausing momentarily, Carlos looked around the room. He felt something watching him, waiting, but nothing was there---at least nothing he could see. Turning to the next page, he continued reading and realized something bad must have happened to Sunflower. Her neat handwriting had turned to scribbled, and old watermarks filled the page as if her tears had fallen onto the paper and smeared her writing before the ink could dry. Repeating the barely legible words out loud, Carlos continued.
"It's freaking lunchtime, and I can't find Buck anywhere. Panic's creeping up on me as I ask around, and then this football dude drops the bomb: Buck was last seen in the last place I'd ever want him to be — The Pit. God, I hate that place. Heart pounding, I haul ass to The Pit, and what I see makes me wanna hurl. Buck's sprawled out on the ground, blood everywhere. I wanna scream, but the words won't come. It hits me like a ton of bricks — one of Buck's punk rivals followed through on his threat. That scumbag took him out."
Continuing, the diary read:
"Man, I'm lost. Don't know what the hell to do now. Got a pretty good idea who took out my guy: Razor. Can't even imagine life without Buck. We were gonna split together, but now that dream's shattered. And what about this kid growing inside me? Ain't got no future without a dad. So, I've made up my mind. Gonna track down Razor, off him first, and then end it for myself. Razor ain't worth spit anyway. Dude's a total jerk, always running his mouth. Him and his two stooges capped poor Mike right outside the gym over some stupid gambling mess."
Realizing he had proof of some fatal shootings on the campus, Carlos became involved, turning quickly to the next page.
"They took Mike's body down into the tunnels and ditched it somewhere. Everyone thinks I'm some kind of airhead who doesn't know squat. But who else brings in all the drugs, booze, and dirty mags into this dump? You gotta be a real dum-dum to think I'm clueless. I've scoped out those tunnels myself, man. Found entrances clear from Herman Park and ventured in. Maybe I'll drop a dime to the pigs about these tunnels those 'fine young men' use when the teachers ain't looking. Or spill about that bottomless pit where they dump the bodies of the folks they off. Wish old Mr. Winthrop was still around, that dude was a saint. But nope, Principal Schmidt put him on 'administrative leave' 'cause he saw a murder go down on campus. Fancy way of saying the principal caved to those degenerates. They practically own this joint now, and ain't nobody got the stones to stand up to 'em. Bet Mr. Winthrop did, though. Probably why he got the boot."
"Oh, wow!" Carlos said, feeling like a lightbulb just went off in his head. "My real savior isn't Sunflower at all; it's Adelaide Winthrop!"
"If I knew where Mr. Winthrop was, I'd spill my guts to him about what went down with Buck and who's to blame. Heard him once, talking to another teacher, saying he'd come back and settle the score with Schmidt and those thugs lurking on campus. Swore he'd make the district shut this hellhole down—for good! If there's any justice in this messed-up world, he'll come back. God, I hope to hell he does. Right now, I'm hiding under the stands in the football stadium. About to take enough heroin to check out for good. Whoever finds this, don't feel sorry for me; it's just karma. I'll haunt this place as a lost spirit until I finally reunite with Buck."
Turning the page, Carlos was shocked to find only blank pages. "No way!" he groaned. "This can't be all! Sunflower must've written more than this!"
Quickly thumbing through the empty pages, Carlos discovered what seemed to be a postscript near the end of the book and continued reading Sunflower's last written words.
"Damn, I gotta come clean. Sorry for not mentioning it earlier—I offed Razor a few hours back. Caught him off guard in the boy's restroom, pumped him full of heroin enough to drop two dudes. Got no time left to write much. If I'm too short, sorry 'bout that. Feeling this overdose kickin' in hard, heart slowing down like a busted record. Know it won't be long now, everything's going blurry. Losing sight, losing time.
"Razor just freakin' appeared outta nowhere, and I don't know how the hell it's possible. I tell him straight up he's gonna rot in Hell for what he did to Buck. But the dude just laughs, like it's some sick joke. Tells me he's all about worshiping Satan, made some deal to walk the Earth forever. Swears he'll keep his rackets going even in death. Then he drops this bomb on me, saying that bottomless pit is some kinda portal to Hell. I let out a curse, 'cause I sure as hell don't get what he's saying. Razor goes on, saying the pit's part of the tunnel system. And man, that's when things start to freak me out. Razor's ghost starts splittin' into two, and the other one calls himself Vince Di Stasio. Di Stasio's freakin' ghost starts mouthing off at me, saying he's the one who possessed Razor and made him off Buck. Tells me how he laughed his ass off at me, gloating about how he and his buddy topped themselves to keep the 'pigs' from finding out where they dumped some British chick named Jacqueline. He spills the beans, saying his pal Sergio was the real sicko who did the deed, but they both offed themselves to keep their dirty secrets buried. And get this, he says all pregnant chicks are gonna catch his bad vibes 'cause of it. Razor drops another bombshell, saying Jacqueline was offed as some sick sacrifice to Lucifer. Says her body's stashed away in the tunnels somewhere, but he can't remember where. No time to dump her in the pit, he says."
Carlos stopped for a brief moment, thinking about what he'd just read. Now he knew who Adelaide, Vince, Jacqueline, and the other guy were. Everything was coming together like pieces of a puzzle.
Carlos sighed, then went on reading:
"I'm heading down into the tunnels, gotta pray over that pit. Maybe if I can block the evil, it'll never creep back onto this campus again. Whoever finds this diary, you gotta find a way to seal up that pit, keep Razor and his crew locked away in Hell. You're my only hope. If my prayers don't work, I'll be Razor's prisoner for eternity. And if that's the case, I'll never find Buck again, not ever. Feelin' like time's runnin' out fast, mouth dry as a desert 'cause of the overdose. Was it just my imagination, or did I feel my baby move?"
Suddenly, Carlos stopped reading again. He thought he heard footsteps out in the room. Peering out through the open closet door he looked left, then right, but saw no one. He felt an overpowering eeriness swelling deep inside his body. It was as if he knew something was watching him, waiting....waiting to strike out at just the right moment. Although frightened, he went on reading the diary.
"I can hear thunder rolling in the distance, a classic Houston storm brewing. Gotta head down into those tunnels, and stop Razor and his evil crew dead in their tracks. Taking the cover of my notebook and a few pages with me. If you find this half of my diary, search the tunnels for the other half. Maybe Buck will turn up somewhere. The thought chokes me up; it's like a knife twisting in my gut. Got to move fast, before I lose the strength to climb down. Please, I'm begging you, help me. My love for Buck is powerful, and I swear I'll find him with your help. If I don't make it, you've got to find a way to seal that pit. It's up to you now. Please, please help me."
That was it. Carlos read every word that Sunflower had written down. He wiped a single tear from his left eye as he thought of the terrible agony the poor kid had endured.
Suddenly he remembered something Sunflower had told him a while back concerning a love poem she'd written on the wall. He looked around at the four walls of the closet and, sure enough, there it was, faded but still legible, written on the back wall of the closet. Grief overtook him as he recited the pale words left on the wall by Sunflower:204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSe4YdG9rGn
204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPHG1VkC15Q
204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5yGVHmBzk7
In the dim light of the closet's rear wall,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbMrIbHncmB
I traced my love for you,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEoIIhRp3ED
Buck,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7iiQokMwGI
standing tall.204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiBdOMgtnnN
With every stroke of my pen,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXd72ERvqyP
I declared,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCVO97oy9v5
My love for you,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqLs1uQlxIO
forever shared.204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDUo60vjujc
204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpsvCKrlT3n
In life and death,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡa1VNYWAIvf
I'll be by your side,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrpOkOrgCai
Through the darkest storms,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvm1B6dENp3
we'll ride.204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM9GuQ0GPHi
My love for you,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlnqzFFZbG6
so fierce and true,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5Y7GPhNTFC
No distance or time could ever undo.204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLtONyoZ9vb
204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXrM8E2v8er
Like the heroes in my romance comics read,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfG7avV4WWO
I'll love you always,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdHf1twsJbQ
even when I'm dead.204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrBRUIFD9S0
In the shadows of eternity,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmNpoh78IQm
we'll dance,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd7VyIIUSW4
United in a timeless, ghostly trance.
204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEjI4TY2KKy
So here I leave my love,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjrza4YEE2M
my heart's decree,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4gtGw3SkrO
In this closet,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcDDguhy12w
where only ghosts may see.204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIEhTl0FGTQ
For as long as souls can intertwine,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNAOYvqUnRo
My love for you,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡziHDIXOS7Z
Buck,204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4hTDmupjWR
will forever shine.
204Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkC2SjIexMv
As he finished reading the mournful words on the wall, the room turned calm----quiet as a mausoleum. He stood motionless, trembling in the sudden wave of deafening silence that surrounded him.
As Carlos cautiously ventured out of the closet, a horrific buzzing filled the air, assaulting his senses with its intensity. The bizarre mutant insects that he had encountered in the former pool area had returned, and they seemed more numerous and menacing than ever before. Millions of them swarmed around the room, their wings creating a deafening cacophony as they flew erratically, their movements erratic and unpredictable. They crawled on the floor, the walls, the ceiling, their grotesque forms casting ominous shadows in the dim light. But something was different this time. The insects appeared larger, their bodies more sinister, their buzzing more menacing. It was as if they had been transformed into something even deadlier than before, their presence radiating an aura of danger and malevolence.
"Oh, my God! Them again!" he groaned.
As Carlos stood frozen in fear, the buzzing of the terrible bugs suddenly took on a strange pattern, akin to Morse code. Buzzing on, buzzing off, in a rhythmic sequence that seemed almost deliberate. Puzzled, he couldn't shake the feeling that the insects were trying to communicate with him. But how? Was it possible that Satan himself was using these creatures as his messengers, reaching out to Carlos with a sinister purpose? As the buzzing continued, Carlos strained to decipher its meaning, his mind racing with fear and confusion. Was there a message hidden within the buzzing, a warning, or a threat from the depths of hell itself?
With each passing moment, the buzzing grew louder, more insistent, echoing through the darkness of the room. Just then the room, closet and all, became intensely cold and papers in the boxes began flying and twirling in all directions as if they'd been seized up by a tornado.
With every nerve on edge, Carlos walked slowly and cautiously towards the doorless threshold of the room. Each step felt like an eternity as he braced himself for the inevitable. He knew that any minute now, the bugs would harmonize their strange on-off buzzing, forming a swarm that would come chasing after him. The air was thick with tension as Carlos's heart pounded in his chest. He could feel the anticipation building, a sense of dread looming over him like a dark cloud. Every shadow seemed to stretch and twist, morphing into grotesque shapes that threatened to engulf him. Despite the overwhelming fear gripping him, Carlos pressed on, his movements deliberate and controlled. He knew that he had to keep moving, had to find a way out before it was too late. But with each passing moment, the buzzing grew louder, more frenzied, signaling the impending swarm that would soon descend upon him. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Carlos reached the threshold and braced himself for what was to come.
With the diary clenched between his teeth, Carlos bolted from the room as if his life depended on it. The mutant bugs, like fighter squadrons, swarmed after him with relentless determination, their buzzing filling the air with dread. He navigated the labyrinthine halls with a mix of panic and determination, his heart pounding in his ears as he raced towards the familiar territory of the Fiesta Court and the ballroom. Dodging and weaving through the corridors, he pushed himself to the limit, fueled by the desperate need to escape the relentless pursuit of the monstrous insects and find safety in familiar surroundings.
As he frantically pushed through a restroom door near the ballroom, a hideous laugh from the Arcade echoed through the corridor, sending shivers down his spine. With trembling hands, he closed the door behind him, the laughter still ringing in his ears. In the relative safety of the restroom, he listened quietly as the mutant bugs smashed themselves against the bathroom door, their grotesque forms poking at the leather upholstery with their sharp stingers, their relentless determination to break through filling the air with an eerie sense of dread.
Gripping the swinging door of the restroom with all his might, Carlos's mind raced at lightspeed, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmarish situation. As he stood there, holding onto the door for dear life, a sudden cacophony filled the air as all the toilets in the restroom flushed simultaneously, all by themselves. Startled, Carlos jerked his head around to take a look at the stalls, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to make sense of yet another inexplicable phenomenon unfolding before him.
"Who's there?" he demanded to know, his voice loud and strained. "I know somebody's there! Come on out! What's wrong with ya?.... Afraid to show yourself, or something?"
He knew better than to walk away from the door to check the stall. He wasn't about to take a chance on his obscene little friends getting at him. He was in a serious predicament and he knew it. Then, from out of nowhere, a thick, black billowing smoke appeared, quickly filling up the room. He slid to the floor with his back to the door as the shadow of a man appeared inside the dense smoke.
"Who are you?" Carlos cried out. "Adelaide, is that you? Help me!"
Through the smoke came laughter, then a diabolical whisper, "Nah, it ain't Adelaide, man. He ain't gonna do squat for ya! Ain't nobody gonna bail you out now!"
"Who are you, you piece of shit? Tell me!"
"The handle's Razor!" the teenager answered in a gravely, hellish tone.
Before the teen's words could fade away the sound of a strange beast came from outside the door. Unlike the usual menacing tones, this sound was unexpectedly soothing and reassuring, reminiscent of a super-powered superhero from a Saturday morning cartoon. Its powerful melody stopped the malevolent stranger dead in his tracks, casting a momentary spell of calm over the tense situation.
"Back off, Winthrop!" Razor screamed. "You and your freaky sidekick gonna catch some heat if you don't step off!"
Looking away from Razor for a split second, Carlos cried out, his voice almost pleading. "Adelaide! Help me! I'm in here!"
"Ain't nobody gonna save you, man! Nobody!" The ghostly enemy moved through the smoke toward Carlos just as flames shot up from the floor. Carlos knew there was no escape this time. The bugs were outside the door and the room was becoming engulfed in fire. Just as things seemed to be going from bad to worse, the door suddenly pushed open, sliding the doomed young man across the floor towards the flames and this new entity that had been ready to snatch up his very soul.
Turning toward the door, trembling, Carlos readied himself to meet his doom, but, to his surprise, the ghostly figure known to him as Adelaide stepped into the restroom. He was taken aback by the radically different appearance of the man from when he'd last seen him. Adelaide was now dressed in a heavenly celestial gown, shimmering with ethereal light and flowing gracefully around him. His presence was almost otherworldly, exuding an aura of peace and tranquility.
By Adelaide's side stood a strange beast, resembling neither a dog nor a cat. Its form was enigmatic, with features that defied easy classification. Despite its peculiar appearance, there was an undeniable sense of benevolence emanating from the creature. Its essence seemed to radiate warmth and compassion, enveloping Carlos in a feeling of safety and reassurance. Adelaide faced the teenager called Razor, his eyes boring straight at the sinister apparition before him.
"Razor," Adelaide's voice boomed like that of a powerful god, "leave this man alone. Begone! Must I remind you how powerful I am? Remember, you can never win a fight against me."
Adelaide looked down at Carlos, who was still sitting on the floor. He placed an object in the young man's hand and then ordered him to leave the building. Carlos quickly peered through the doorway and found that the mutant bugs had vanished. Then the strange and wonderful beast clenched its teeth gently on Carlos's wrist, tugging at him in an attempt to lead him away from the restroom. Up and on his feet, Carlos raced across the ballroom floor, through the swinging doors, and down the hallway exploding out of the front entrance of the building. Standing safely outside, he peered through the glass door panes and saw the weird animal standing at the other end of the hall. It had made sure Carlos escaped. The beast turned and disappeared out of sight, back toward the restroom as Carlos stood there, motionless, lost in a horrifying fairy tale come true.
ns 15.158.61.54da2
