Dial Tone (Backrooms Fanfic)

Part 3

This brings me to my feet in an instant, the implications pounding me moment after moment without reprieve. I am struck with the urge to run but wrought with an internal conflict about which way I should go.

Toward it or far, far, far away.

I try to stem the surge of fear-spun energy that courses through my veins and force myself to stay still. To move carefully. I'm tense, ready to sprint at a moment's notice but I bide my time, although I'm scared out of my mind.

The terrible roar has quieted but I still hear the phone ringing, a horribly mundane sound that haunts me here in the purified essence of industrial typicality. And something is shuffling now, bumping into things - I assume walls - moving closer without even attempting to be subtle.

But all I can hear is my brother's phone and I know, I know in my heart of hearts he's been here. He was here. He fell here, just like me. And somehow, though I don't know how, he called me.

But how long ago was that? How long ago can I be sure he was alive?

How can I be sure he still is?

Tears spring to my eyes. What is this thing roaming these rooms? What will it do to me if it finds me? What would it have done to him?

And suddenly I'm so, so angry. Because my brother was here. He was so close to me for just a moment. I wasn't kidding when I said I loved him more than my own life and I KNOW, in that moment, I'm willing to see that through.

All of a sudden, I'm screaming.

"If you've done ANYTHING, and I mean ANYTHING to my brother, you WILL BURN. Do you hear me? YOU WILL BURN IN HELL."

The creatures answer with a screaming cry to rival my own but the angry, reckless beat of my heart hasn't failed me yet.

Something is scraping along the floor toward me, and with it the ringing phone is getting closer. I feel a pit of doubt and dread and grief and all these horrible, life-sucking things opening in the pit of my stomach but I don't run quite yet. Instead, I'm bouncing on my heels, waiting, just waiting, for a glimpse-

There it is. Rounding the corner. Charging at me with a staggering gait. It's thin and tall and wiry and black and I- I don't know what I'm looking at but somehow it's moving at a pace I can't imagine matching. But still, I hesitate, straining my eyes for one final detail.

Its body is a mess of tangled growth and twisting cord. I see bits of wallpaper stuck to it, debris picked up from its hunting I think. There are other things too. Objects I can't quite recognize. Things that I think I know but don't want to think about.

There's a phone there too. Right where its heart should be. It's ringing. And I'm sick to my stomach.

I run.

It roars louder, picking up the scent of a chase. All I can focus on is the pounding of my feet against the carpet as I weave through the mess of walls and hallways. There are so many turns, the sharp kind that slows me down and makes my efforts at survival feel useless. Because whatever that thing is, it's gaining on me.

I think. I throw a look over my shoulder, seeing nothing but the corner I've just rounded, but hearing the scraping sound of its pursuit not far beyond. The phone still rings, making it easier to gauge the distance.

My foot catches on something - a ledge I think? It seems so out of place but everything is out of place here - and I trip into a hard roll, my face pressing into the mouldy, soggy carpet. My whole body is jarred by the fall but I scramble to my feet, spurred on by another crescendo of screams from behind me. I can almost hear triumph in the noise.