Beastlord Horror Picture Show

five

KIM

It was hard to maneuver in the darkness and I never had much of a sense of direction, anyway. But with the effects of the drugs still on my bloodstream and the thought of Sky behind, suffering while I was running, I felt like I was running in circles. I wanted to stop, turn around and get Sky. Wasn't that better? Wasn't dying together better than dying alone?

I promised I would be back, but I never said how soon...

"Stop," a familiar voice said behind me. "Don't go back, luv. You have to keep running."

He whistled something quietly while my heart hammered against my chest. I gravitated towards his whistling, to his smell of expensive cologne and cigarettes. In the darkness, slightly delirious, I reached out to touch him.

"Stop whistling that tune," I whisper, my lips feeling numb. I vaguely remember the injection; a drug was flowing through my veins. What I was seeing wasn't real. John Lennon was dead, and definitely not standing in front of me. And yet, I still talked to him. "Don't taunt me."

He let me touch his cheek, before grabbing both my hands and leaning in. "Listen to me, luv. There is no time for touching, unfortunately. You need to run, run, right now. If you don't, you'll die. And let me tell you a little something, being dead is not great."

"She needs me."

"No, you need her and those are two different things," he rolled his eyes. "You have two options, you run and leave her behind or you test your luck. The keys to her shackles are in the glove compartment of the van he brought you in."

I couldn't help but snort. "He has the keys in the van?"

"He's giving you an option," John gave a shrug. "He wants to know if you'll let her die or run to help her."

"How do you know they're in the glove compartment?" I asked shakily. "You're not real."

"That's where you found them." He smiled at me, looking bemused. "Remember?"

Feeling sick to my stomach, I look down to see a set of keys in my hands. I don't remember grabbing them. It's as if they appeared out of nowhere. "What?" Gasping in alarm, I turn to John, hoping for an explanation. But he was gone.

I was losing it, fading in and out. All I knew was that I needed to get back to Skyler. Stumbling around on shaken legs, I retraced my steps back to her. Down the damp halls, past the vacant rooms. I ran as fast as my legs would allow, despite how much they were trembling and how close I was to passing out.

The familiar feeling of being trapped came back, I pushed a door open and I knew I was in the right place. It smelled musty, the pungent odor smothering me once again. I did my best to take quick but quiet footsteps as I approached her. She was so still, I was afraid she was dead. A sudden image appeared in my mind, of me clutching her lifeless body while I burst into tears.

I touched her shoulder and she quickly sat up. Realizing it was me, her eyes grew ever so slightly. She looked relieved, but also like she wanted to punch me and get me to leave. She tried to get my hands off her, but I showed her the keys and begin to force the key in the lock. My hands were trembling, I tried to steady then and open the lock.

A moment later, I unshackled Sky and I offered my hand, the two of us running out of the room. She was struggling behind me as I pulled her forward, unwilling to let go. I suddenly wished Lennon would appear again, giving me instructions as to where to go and where to turn.

"I can hear him," she gasped, her voice tearing through her throat as she gasped. The running was taking its toll on her. The drugs and time in captivity diluting her strength. The fear acting as it's own sedative. I tried to block it all out, tried to focus on the exit that was dead ahead.

Already I could see the door, see through the window that separated us from the outside world. Already I could smell the fresh air. We pushed forward, Skyler reaching the door before me as I shoved her, trying to speed up her faltering steps.

Her hands slammed against the door handle, thrusting it open, and she fell out onto the ground. But I never passed the threshold. Before I could join her, the door slammed seemingly of its own accord. Then he stepped into view.

His hand gripped a fistful of Skyler's hair as he pulled her up. I watched in horror as she screamed, lurching towards the door, towards me, her last hope. Her face pressed against the window as he held her there, raising up a hand behind her.

His hand came down and she let out a choked groan. When he raised his hand again, I finally saw the shining blade he held, now coated in Skyler's blood. Over and over, it came down on her back, each time she cried out, bloody spittle hitting the window between us. Her eyes connected with mine, and I knew it was over for her. And I could tell that she knew it too.

My lips trembled as I sobbed, whispering "I'm sorry." I said her name, a prayer lost in space.

"She's dead as a doornail, luv," John told me, leaning against the door. "It's time for you to run."

I choked on sobs as John patted my shoulder. Seeing no reaction from me, he took a step forward, his face all over my own. If this was a completely different situation, I would have pulled him by his collar and kissed him. He tugged my hand, getting me to move.

"Come on, then, we haven't got all bloody day," he said. I began to run, John running beside me. "Remember where you got the keys, it's the only car in sight."

"I can't drive."

"What the fucking hell do you mean you can't drive? You don't exactly have another choice," John informed me. I knew as much. I suddenly regretted not getting more driving learning lessons from my parents because they yelled at me. I would take their yelling over death. In the distance, I spotted the old beat up van.

I ran towards it, John going ahead and moving his hands as though guiding me. He opened the passenger door, taking a seat. I opened the driver's side, leaning torward the glove compartment, rummaging through the contents to find the keys.

"Faster, Kim!" John clapped his hands impatiently. "Go faster, I see him coming down the road!"

My hands touched something cold and made of metal. John made himself useful by locking the doors of the car. After a few tries, I turned the ignition on. I couldn't do what I did back home when getting lessons, I couldn't adjust my seat or my mirrors. I couldn't even double check to see if I had my foot in the right pedal.

I only stepped on it, the car moving forward and gaining speed. John's window was down and I could feel the warm breeze lifting the small hairs on my arm, the sun warming me. Wasn't it winter? Why wasn't there any snow on the ground? I looked at John one last time, before flooring the pedal and colliding head on with a tree.

I was propelled out of the car, flying.

My head cracked on the pavement, my thoughts and dreams all wiped clean.