Clarkesville (Chandler Riggs)

Chapter 36

"Ready?" He asked me, nodding his head. His bloody hands gripped the door handle, posed to barge outside and follow our gruesome plan.

Overall I was ecstatic to be alive, glad that Mitch had saved me. He had answered the majority of my questions, who these people were and why they were doing this. He sured me that Chandler was alive, so was Luke. Of course, I forced myself to ask about Freddie.

"Yeah, he's been here for about a week with another kid named Ashton." Mitch had told me at the time. "They both said they knew you after Chandler brought you up."

And I knew what that meant; Chandler had met Freddie. I had told him how much I missed Freddie and now he knows. If Mitch can go through with the four boys' plan, we would all get out alive, and what would happen then?
Something would be different, as soon as I see Freddie.

Has Chandler told him what went on between us? That we had kissed and I had forgotten about him? But I haven't forgot. I knew I would never see Freddie again, but this result was rare to happen, me finding all three of my friends again, all the way out in Georgia.

Mitch had also explained that he had been planning to get out for a while, but made a change in plans after I got here, and after he made an escape route with Chandler.

"What about the girls here? And the other boys? What about the man we came with, Bruno?" I asked Mitch, who was giving me answers left and right.

"Your friend Ashton and another kid Jacob are going to get into the locker rooms and get everyone out, like I said, after Freddie gets the keys from Gale."

"Gale?"

Mitch sighed, "Yes Gale."

That was why he wasn't to harsh with me, I thought, remembering Gale's words, "I'm not the bad guy here."
Neither was Mitch, and neither was half of the entire population of the people in this town.

After all of my questions were through with and Mitch was armed with Mike and Dylan's weapons, we stood against the door, prepped to open it.

"Ready." I said, trying to be as calm as possible.

The first step to our planned procedure was to get to the back stairs which led to the lower floors. The two of us exited closely attached. He tried to look like he was treating me roughly, but did so without causing me too much physical pain.

The hallways were empty from those in the hotel, leaving me and Mitch jogging on our way out.

Some doors were cracked open, but most were shut. I prayed that no one would hear us, I prayed I could get back to Chandler.

What happens when I get to him? Or Freddie? I needed to think of this but my mind couldn't find the thoughts.

We approached the stairs at an abrupt stop, and Mitch held to my shoulders. "When we get to the laundry room, hide. I'll come and get you when I'm done."

Part of the plan was for Mitch to distract anyone in the lobby of the hotel, so we could get downstairs then out the back way. He would take me up the road and we would have to wait for the others.

"Got it." I replied and we began shuffling down the stairs.

As soon as we turned the first flight, there were heavy footsteps in our direction. I figured out that Mitch heard the faint sound too, when he fixed his rough grip on my hand opening the cut I received last week in the airport.

"Aahhh..." I moaned from the stinging on the side of my finger, and for a moment I was no longer acting.

When the cause of the footsteps came thumping down the hallway, I bit my lip and tried to release my hand from Mitch's hold. Of course, he had no idea I was in actual agonizing pain, but just pretending to be the captive girl I was just over an hour ago.

The man had a rifle slung over his shoulders and he wore large military boots, but he was not scary. He gave a nod to Mitch who returned the favor, and continued up the stairs behind us.

As soon as we reached first floor and we could no longer hear anyone's footsteps, I complained to Mitch.

"That fucking hurt like hell!" I whispered with a rasp. My hand was throbbing and becoming infected as I stood there.

"I'm sorry I didn't realize you were hurt, or else I would have held your other arm." He kept his voice low. As I held my bleeding wound to my chest Mitch pulled me along again.

"Laundry room is right outside." He told me.

He poked his head out the entrance from the stairs and into the hallway and looked left and right. I noticed that Mitch saw people down the hallway towards the lobby.

I knew we'd have to continue the forceful prisoner act.

He grabbed my uninjured wrist with one hand and gripped my side with the other. Mitch took a deep breath and shoved me.

"Please let me go," I fake whined, attempting to look as feeble as possible.

We turned the corner. I could see the swinging doors of the laundry room.

"Shut up." Mitch responded. His acting skills were very dramatic, they were most definitely convincing.

I couldn't tell if those who were in the lobby were paying attention to us, but if they were, my blood and Mitch's unreal anger was not doubting their minds.

"Get in there." Mitch shoved me through the doors and released his grip. We were out of sight from those in the lobby, and luckily there was no one in the laundry room either.

He handed me a gun and a walkie talkie. "Go, hide behind the shelf. If anyone comes in you either disregard them, or kill them if there's trouble. Don't get caught."

I nodded and shuffled behind the shelf stacked with towels.

Mitch gave me one last reassuring glance and pretended to storm out of the swinging doors. I didn't know the entire plan, just the things I was told to do. As long as I did them correctly, we could all get out of this place.

My eyes searched for something that could keep my hand from bleeding, like a bandage or something from a first aid kit.

Fortunately, a red box was just underneath an examining table's counter. I crawled to the box, finding a bandage wrap and some rubbing alcohol.

As quick as I could, I cleaned the cut on my finger and attempted to wrap the cloth through and around my fingers until it was secure. Once one of my problems was taken care of, I moved back behind the shelf.

I squatted and counted the ammo in the gun Mitch had given me, about four times. I played with the tears in my jeans and pulled strings from a hole in my baggy white t-shirt.

The anticipation was killing me.

It had been almost ten minutes since Mitch had left, and there was barely any ruckus outside. Was this part of his plan or did something go wrong?

A women dressed in a leather jacket entered through the laundry room doors while I was worrying myself to death. She was carrying a tray full of food scraps and had a kind expression on her face.

Before she could hear me I tried my best to move the furthest out of sight, and readied my gun. I noticed she had a holster on her hip with a weapon.

I watched her closely through cracks in between the towels to see her empty the tray into a garbage chute. Her throat hummed a quick tune, and she placed the tray on the counter.

The young woman's hands gripped the counter top behind her and she took a deep sigh, looking slightly up to the wall. Her lips curled into a smile as she spoke to the air.

"You can come out now Riley."

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WOAH GUYS 23K!!!1!!!!
I know I haven't kept up with this story but when i do i just love it so much. thank you guys for putting me on PAGE FOUR CHANDLER RIGGS FAN FICTIONS. do you even know what that means to me?

im so glad that this story has gotten this far, thank you guys for reading, voting, and commenting. ❤️❤️
-molly