"Let's play a game... a game of murder."
A young blossoming composer, Markel didn't know what to do when he was cordially invited to the last concert of a retiring pianist. But when the concert's true motive is revealed, Markel is sucked into a vort...
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'Ka-tooo!' The sound of a bird call liberated Markel from the nefarious clutches of the eerie silence, and within a few seconds he found himself returning the call, tension draining out of his shoulders. A moment later, Markel was tackled from the front by a 19-year-old nervous breakdown that he recognised as Xavier.
'I thought you were dead! There was this person stalking me and-'
'Hey, it's all right, I was too. But we both escaped, we're both alive and standing even though you nearly knocked me into another corpse. Now we just need to find Sicily,' Markel said, running his fingers through his roommate's hair to calm him.
'Yeah. Speaking of which, why do you smell so weird?' As Xavier stepped back from Markel, he noticed a strange wetness threaded in his hair and running down his front.
'Well....'
'Don't tell me,' Xavier cut in, golden eyes gleaming in the darkness, 'I heard something fall when I was running. You fell onto a body?'
'The first body, actually. From what I saw, it was also the most recently deceased one as well. The bodies over here,' Markel gestured around him in the dark, 'are pretty much fully decayed. At least, from what I saw until my flashlight died.'
'Yours too?'
'Yeah.'
'What of your phone?'
Markel rummaged around in his pockets, coming up with a small little rectangle that was drenched in liquid. Wiping the device on the light canvas material of his trousers, Markel pressed the 'ON' button, praying that it would light up.
No such luck.
He tried again.
The screen flickered for a moment, then held strong. Just as he let out a sigh of relief, it died on him.
Turning to Xavier, Markel opened his mouth- only to have a firm hand clasp it closed and a voice hiss into his ear, 'Listen.'
And so he did. Straining his ears, it wasn't long before he heard a voice- a very feminine one at that- shriek. At first, whatever she was shrieking was incoherent, but as he focused, he slowly made out 'Xavier! Markel! Someone, anyone! Help!'. Trading glances with the pair of golden eyes beside him, the two darted for the end of the corpse-filled tunnel.
Xavier made it out first, gaping at what he saw as Markel, ever the clumsy long-limbed teenager, nearly crashed into a terribly-rusted operating table to stop himself.
Beakers, Erlenmeyer flasks, side arm flasks, graduated cylinders... the glassware lay all around the illuminated spacious room, broken and dirty with age. However, the terrible state of the scientific equipment wasn't what made the two men reluctant to go further; it was something much more horrendous.
Situated against a corner were opened coffins, rows upon rows of them, each with a worn, neat label written in an unknown script. Some of them had begun to rot; others looked as though they'd just been freshly bought from the undertaker. Contained within each coffin was a bright-haired human, statuses varying from 'Barely Alive' to 'Half-rotten Corpses'. All of them looked as though they'd been frozen mid-scream; even the ones who were just slightly breathing had their bloodshot eyes opened wide in fear or anger, mouth frozen in O's as though to scream.
The stench of rot was stronger here; it wafted over, like an unwanted intruder, and settled over the students and froze them in their revelry.
Another high pitched scream, this one slightly closer but hoarser, echoed through the halls, snapping the two out of their trance. Flipping himself over the operating table, Markel snatched a large, sturdy piece of wood from beside one of the coffins and rammed through the door next to the corner of coffins.
The screams abruptly stopped alongside the hearty snap of breaking.
