The Survivor CH4 PT1

WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT

Peter stumbled over the corpse of the mad man as he ran to get away from the murderous mother. He hit the railing at the top of the set of stairs opposite the platform from the woman and shot right. He flew down the stairs, sure that the woman was closing in on him only to run into a couple of men trading blows, each ones fist coming away with blood and flesh from the face of his opponent.

He slammed into them full tilt in a blind panic and the trio hit the deck in a jumble of tangled limbs. It took a moment for Peter to get his bearings, but when he finally got his head on straight he looked up the stairs to see the woman charging at him like a bull in a rodeo. He grabbed one of the men beside him and, with almost superhuman strength, shoved him with hand and foot into the woman sending them both tumbling to one side trying to kill each other.

Peter began to breathe a sigh of relief when an arm snaked around his neck with cobra quickness, closing off his air way. The man under Peter then used his other hand to cinch his arm in place as he tried to strangle Peter. Peter felt panic encroaching on the edges of his vision and had to fight it back. He knew instinctively that if he gave into the panic he would die at the hands of this man.

Peter started clawing at the man’s arm with a desperate ferocity, digging his nails in and tearing away ribbons of flesh, but to no avail. Blackness started to replace the panic at the edge of his vision, and Peter knew he couldn’t stave that off for more than a few seconds. Peter’s eyes bulged as his hands began frantically searching for something, anything, with which to free himself. His hands scoured the floor as the panic returned until finally his questing fingers discovered a thin metallic rod on the floor. Peter’s fingers closed upon the rod and the panic ebbed away.

Peter swung his right arm over his left shoulder as hard as he could and felt the rod connect. It wasn’t a tremendous blow but it was enough to allow Peter to get a quick gasp of air and let the blood flow freely again, just enough to push the blackness back and give him a second shot at his assailant’s skull. Peter swung again and this time, he not only felt the impact, but also the crunch of skull giving way under the piece of rebar.

The arm loosened enough for Peter to be able to fight his way out and away from the man, rolling to his feet and raising the rebar over his head for a final strike. He looked down at the man on the floor as he continued to reach for Peter, despite the lack of sight and the massive dent on his forehead, and swung down like he was dropping the hammer at the strongman game at the carnival. He scored Macho Man.

Blood splattered onto Peter’s face adding to his crazed appearance as he yanked the rebar up and swung down again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

Peter finally fell to his knees, covered in blood, brain, and bits of bone, and vomited into the cavity where the man’s face had once been. Slowly, he rose shakily to his feet and looked to his right where he saw the woman also rising, the victor, but with chunks of her face and arms missing. She began to stumble towards him and he drew the rebar back across his shoulders and waited. When she finally stumbled into range he swung as hard as he could and caught her right above the ear, crushing her skull and turning her brain to mush.

She fell to the floor at his feet and he leaned back against the wall to catch his breath. Blood dripped from the rebar. There were bits of flesh and hair caught on the ridges of the rebar. He shuddered like he was going to throw up again, but there was nothing left in his stomach, so instead he retched and heaved until the fit passed.

He stood from the wall and turned towards the stairs, rebar in hand. He didn’t want to leave Charlene but there was nothing he could do until he got out of the aquarium. He could only pray that things were still sane outside. If not…

He mounted the escalator, which had stopped and now were nothing more than floating stairs, leading to the Atlantic Coral Reef exhibit and stopped. At the bottom of the stairs there were three bodies, each with various wounds. He was suddenly afraid, the three bodies on the stairs didn’t bother him, which in itself bothered him. He pondered it for a moment, I guess after you’ve killed three people, just seeing the bodies won’t do it for you anymore.

He took a step down and suddenly everything flashed around him. His head felt like the woman had used the rebar on him, and he stumbled grabbing the railing to keep himself from falling down the stairs. He saw symbols scrawl themselves on the walls and he heard a voice, deeper than the ocean and larger than life, pound through his head, but he couldn’t tell what it was saying, like it was speaking a foreign language. He clenched his eyes shut to try and shut out the world. He felt someone whisper in his ear and opened his eyes, only to find Charlene lunging down at him from the ceiling her hands aimed at his throat. He jerked and the episode was over.