Level 7: Progress Saved

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Jake watched at the rest take action among themselves. Christine and Michael slowly and carefully let go of the chair, and Jeremy and Rich did the same with backing away from the door, since the chair was well under the door handle. The door handle kept fiddling, but the door wouldn't open.

"Jakey!" Rich ran to Jake and hugged him tightly and kissed his nose. "You okay?"

"Am I okay?! Baby that was so fucking liiit!" Jake joked.

"Never say 'lit' ever again in this situation or I'm leaving you to be eaten." Michael said.

"So, where's the, you know, thing we're supposed to look for?" Christine asked, approaching Jeremy.

"It's in the cabinets of his desk. Be careful, though- some... stuff... might be lying around."

The 5 huddled around the desk, and Jeremy was gonna do the honors of opening each drawer.

"Dude what can possibly be lying in a desk drawer?" Jake asked to himself as Jeremy opened the first one.

As Jeremy opened it wide, a zombie head was inside, trying to bite at Jeremy's fingertips. Jeremy luckily pulled away quickly as the others screamed.

"Scratch that- what can not be inside those drawers?!" Jake hugged Rich close to him.

Jeremy opened the second drawer and found a moldy sandwich. He just awkwardly closed that one and went to the last one.

2 bottles of Mounain Dew Red.

"Are you kidding!? Our weapon is a soda drink?!" Jake screamed angrily.

Jeremy, once he picked up the drinks, realized this wasn't the weapon they usually had in the game.
In the game, they had a gun. A shotgun, to be exact.
Why was this one any different?

Once Jeremy looked back at everyone, he saw Michael give him a confused stare and Rich gave him a shocked and scared stare.

"Ca I talk to you for just a sec, Jer?" Rich asked nervously, getting out of Jake's embrace and dragging Jeremy to a corner. Michael snatched the bottles from Jeremy and investigated them curiously, since he as well knew the game, every detail.

Jeremy gulped once Rich had cornered him already. What did he want?

"Was the weapon always that bottle?" Rich asked, his eyes panicked.

"No, it isn't. Why?"

Rich ran his fingers through his hair, his red streak noticeably fading out.

"I think our squips are behind this."

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