Liz and get out of here. Ok? We're going to get you..."
"Those who fear demons see demons everywhere. I have seen my demons and they are mmmmeeeee!!!"
With a high pitched scream, she threw herself on Stan. Her hands locked in on his neck with impossible strength. She no longer looked like herself; all the color had drained from her.
Stan and Rich swung at her. Stan's hand that wasn't trying to pry her hands off of him was slamming into her mid section. Rich finally kicked her in the face with his fully weight. Her head flew back and she collapsed, no longer moving. It was too late for Stan.
He could still talk a little, but his windpipe had been crushed. "Please...save....her..." He was gone.
Rich sat and wept next to the bodies of his friends. It was too much for him to take, for any man to take. His eyes were wide and locked as everything that had happened to him surged through his mind. He could feel things moving around him. Little, invisible things which prey on the minds of those on the verge of insanity... In the midst of his crying, intense laughter erupted from him as he forced himself to his feet and pushed through the glowing blue door.
A rifle butt slammed into his head before he entered the next room.
*****
For a holding cell, the place was spotless. Rich had been expecting a vermin-infested hole coated in filth. It was crowded, though. There were a few dozen guys in white jumpsuits crammed into a space meant for six. The guy he found himself sitting next to was tweaking out. "Yoyoyo waz up son? You got the fat beats in dat nosy head. My head is full of the chaos juice, baby."
"Ok."
Rich half walked, half-crawled, to the other side of the cell.
"Don't mind Walsh. He's been here too damn long." The tall African-American man who spoke looked like he had been trying to catch a nap. Rich had a seat next to him. "What are we all doing here?"
"Ha! Well, I was doing six months for assault. One day the guards pull me out of my cell, drug me, and I wake up here. What's your story, boy?"
"I was trying to track the people who hurt my friends. Trail led me here. They caught me."
"Well, you're in the deep end now. No one ever gets out. They periodically take people. Either they come back all jacked up like Walsh, or they wheel them down the hall in a body bag.
Another guy was slamming his head into the wall over and over again. Rich looked toward the door just in time for a rifle butt to, once more, slam into his face.
*****
He was in the white room from his nightmares. Once again, on the table, were a newspaper and a steaming cup of black coffee. For a reason he couldn't understand, he had a seat at the table. The words on the newspaper refused to focus, and he couldn't make them out. It was like they were in some foreign language. Again, he started weeping as the door opened.
The man in the white suit entered the room, followed by Liz. She was holding a baby. The man smiled. "Richard, glad to see you made it, my boy. We almost have it, son. We almost got it right this time." A woman in a white medical uniform entered the room. "Reset his memory to the fourth iteration. Release the next set of clones."
Rich held out his hands. "Wait! Please!! What's happening here?"
"You already know, son. And soon, you'll know everything."
Liz ripped her face off.
"HAAAAAAAAA!!"
Rich sat upright in bed, covered in sweat. That had been the longest, most intense dream he had ever had. It had all seemed perfectly real, but it couldn't have been.
He looked at his alarm clock: 6:45. He would have to get up for his new school anyway in about an hour. He headed to the kitchen to dig up some breakfast.
******
"Hey man! Are you ok?"
Rich looked up, right as a heavyset guy shook his shoulder. "W..what?"
"Are you
"Those who fear demons see demons everywhere. I have seen my demons and they are mmmmeeeee!!!"
With a high pitched scream, she threw herself on Stan. Her hands locked in on his neck with impossible strength. She no longer looked like herself; all the color had drained from her.
Stan and Rich swung at her. Stan's hand that wasn't trying to pry her hands off of him was slamming into her mid section. Rich finally kicked her in the face with his fully weight. Her head flew back and she collapsed, no longer moving. It was too late for Stan.
He could still talk a little, but his windpipe had been crushed. "Please...save....her..." He was gone.
Rich sat and wept next to the bodies of his friends. It was too much for him to take, for any man to take. His eyes were wide and locked as everything that had happened to him surged through his mind. He could feel things moving around him. Little, invisible things which prey on the minds of those on the verge of insanity... In the midst of his crying, intense laughter erupted from him as he forced himself to his feet and pushed through the glowing blue door.
A rifle butt slammed into his head before he entered the next room.
*****
For a holding cell, the place was spotless. Rich had been expecting a vermin-infested hole coated in filth. It was crowded, though. There were a few dozen guys in white jumpsuits crammed into a space meant for six. The guy he found himself sitting next to was tweaking out. "Yoyoyo waz up son? You got the fat beats in dat nosy head. My head is full of the chaos juice, baby."
"Ok."
Rich half walked, half-crawled, to the other side of the cell.
"Don't mind Walsh. He's been here too damn long." The tall African-American man who spoke looked like he had been trying to catch a nap. Rich had a seat next to him. "What are we all doing here?"
"Ha! Well, I was doing six months for assault. One day the guards pull me out of my cell, drug me, and I wake up here. What's your story, boy?"
"I was trying to track the people who hurt my friends. Trail led me here. They caught me."
"Well, you're in the deep end now. No one ever gets out. They periodically take people. Either they come back all jacked up like Walsh, or they wheel them down the hall in a body bag.
Another guy was slamming his head into the wall over and over again. Rich looked toward the door just in time for a rifle butt to, once more, slam into his face.
*****
He was in the white room from his nightmares. Once again, on the table, were a newspaper and a steaming cup of black coffee. For a reason he couldn't understand, he had a seat at the table. The words on the newspaper refused to focus, and he couldn't make them out. It was like they were in some foreign language. Again, he started weeping as the door opened.
The man in the white suit entered the room, followed by Liz. She was holding a baby. The man smiled. "Richard, glad to see you made it, my boy. We almost have it, son. We almost got it right this time." A woman in a white medical uniform entered the room. "Reset his memory to the fourth iteration. Release the next set of clones."
Rich held out his hands. "Wait! Please!! What's happening here?"
"You already know, son. And soon, you'll know everything."
Liz ripped her face off.
"HAAAAAAAAA!!"
Rich sat upright in bed, covered in sweat. That had been the longest, most intense dream he had ever had. It had all seemed perfectly real, but it couldn't have been.
He looked at his alarm clock: 6:45. He would have to get up for his new school anyway in about an hour. He headed to the kitchen to dig up some breakfast.
******
"Hey man! Are you ok?"
Rich looked up, right as a heavyset guy shook his shoulder. "W..what?"
"Are you
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