Hexad by Andrew Lennon, Matt Hickman

make our way back to the entrance to finish up. I will take the lead along with Adam. Jonny and Stevie, you stay in the middle. Glen and Mart, are you OK to bring up the rear?”
    “Fine with me,” Glen replied, a hint of nerves in his voice.
    “OK, let's go. Everyone, be careful where you tread, and try not to touch anything. I aim to have us back here and out of the building within ninety minutes. If anyone gets separated from the group, try and find your way back down here and the entrance can be our rendezvous point. Any questions?”
    A semi-silenced groan came from the group.
    “Great, let’s go.”
    Karl and Adam started the ascent up the set of old stairs, they shined their torches upwards through the pitch black as floating dust particles and small pieces of debris floated through the air, untouched for decades. A deathly silence from the abandoned building enveloped them; there were no sounds at all apart from their soft footfalls as they slowly scaled the stairway.
    Ignoring the expanse of corridors that came from every landing, the group finally reached the top level, they were breathing heavily after the climb – a mixture of exertion and nerves.
    “Which way?”
    Swinging his beam to the right, Karl lit up the corridor, the complete darkness looked totally uninviting. To the left was a corridor that seemed to open out into a series of doors, left and right. It didn’t seem as dark and empty as the other way.
    Karl nodded to the left. “That way.”
    Taking the lead, Karl headed down the corridor tentatively, a door stood open in the first room. Shining his torch through the gap, he saw that inside the room were six old beds, presumably old treatment beds from when the building was used as a hospital. Apart from a couple of steel lockers that stood alone in the corner, the room was empty.
    He exited the room as the other members of the room entered to take a look. Suddenly, the beam from his torch began to flicker - gently on, then off. Shit. He began to bang the side of the torch with his palm causing the beam to dip and then shine intermittently. A sound caught his attention from further down the corridor – it sounded like metal scraping.
    Shining his flashlight in front of him, its diminished light didn’t manage to pick up any detail. The sound of the scraping continued, slowly getting a little louder as if its source was getting closer. Karl squinted his eyes, desperate to make out some detail in the dark when three overhead bulbs quickly burst into life, not enough to illuminate the whole corridor, but enough dingy light for Karl to make out a shape in the distance, it looked like the silhouette of a figure.
    Frantically, his heart thundered in his chest cavity and his breathing quickened. Despite the cold air, he found himself beginning to sweat.  Karl began to take a few steps forward and the scraping noise started again. The figure in the distance slowly began to move forward from where it was partially hidden in the shadows, he desperately tried to make out any detail, it was edging its way closer and closer.
    Illuminated by the light from the first dim bulb, Karl made out the horrific sight that stood before him. The figure was a man, dressed in a dark grey boiler suit - ripped all over. Dark red and brown stains were splattered down the front of the man’s clothes, no shoes upon his filthy, bare feet. His black sweaty hair was a ruffled mess upon his head, his face obscured by an old gas mask. He continued his movement forward, the large meat cleaver in his right hand was outstretched and scraping along the side of the exposed brick on the wall of the corridor.
    The figure halted when it spotted Karl, who was now shaking with fear. He felt light headed. Tilting slightly to one side, it seemed as if the man was considering the sight of Karl before him. Raising his left hand, he raised his index finger and pointed it directly at Karl, he lifted the meat cleaver in his other hand above his