The smell of death still lingers in The Arlington High Basement.
I pace the space, looking at it with an increased awareness.
I note the shackling area. It is divided into ten bays, like the shower cubicles I recall from the gymnasium I used in my living days, except thick concrete walls divide these ones.
I pick up one of the shackles and note that they are perhaps three times the thickness of my own: extra strength for increased restraint.
On the right hand wall of each cubicle are two buttons: red and black. I press the red one and a rumbling sound rises from below.
The rumble is replaced with a swooshing rush as a thick wall of Perspex shoots from the floor and slams into the space above. A final clatter and click indicates the cubicle is locked – solid.
I stare, and relate these cubicles back to my own reanimate experience – my insight suggests: these bays are designed to withhold a reanimate whilst it is in the throes of its hunger-fuelled strength.
……
I walk into the feed preparation area and inhale deeply. The smell of a live boar circulates through my system, the last vestige of the lucky beast that escaped its fate.
The chopping slab and tools: Knives, saws, machetes, drills and other items used to chop and dismember, glisten in the dim light. They remain unused, but ready to slaughter – a reanimate has not yet been fed in this pristine hellhole.
As I continue to explore, I am distracted by something behind me – a shard of light. I turn and follow its source. It emanates from the top of the narrow stairwell that leads from the storeroom into the basement. A single pair of yellow eyes lingers: The Dark Side is on its way.
……
I scan the space looking for a place to hide myself, one that will allow me to observe who visits this damned place.
I note a tiny slice of space divides the feeding bays.
From above: an intrusive sound alerts me.
Movement: a door scrapes open, the rumble of furniture being moved – and footsteps.
A visitor: someone has arrived – sooner than expected. It is not quite sunrise.
I dart behind a feeding bay, and position my eye against the thin sliver of space.
From above: it is two sets of footsteps that walk toward the secret annex with a knowing stride.
My view is too limited, not good enough for adequate observation.
From above: the sound of the store cupboard door being pulled open indicates their imminent arrival.
I am scanning the space, for a better place.
I see one, under the chopping block. It will mean I have to observe from floor level.
From above: whispered dialogue infiltrates my sound system. But, I can’t decipher words or dialogue.
I dive under the block, lie on my side and look out from under the space. It is still not good enough.
From above: the visitors work on opening the fake shelving unit that no longer hides this hell. I am aware of their struggle – it is heavy, a fact that will afford me more time to seek cover.
While listening and looking hard, I become aware of their voices again. Something in their sound is confusing me.
From above: a click indicates the opening of the fake entrance. They are almost here.
