Hexad by Andrew Lennon, Matt Hickman Page A

head menacingly. His hands were caked in dirt, and a sticky red substance that looked like blood dripped from his hands and from the blade of the cleaver, pooling on the floor. He began to walk towards Karl.
    “Guys!” Karl began - no response.
    “Guys!” Karl shouted louder, as the figure in the gas mask started to reduce the distance between them rapidly. The figure began to run toward him, the cleaver still held aloft. The men began to file out of the room as Karl turned and piled into them clumsily. “ Run! " he shouted, as if all of their lives depended on it.
    Instinctively, they all ran straight down the stairs, most of them clearing two or three steps at a time. As they hit the first landing, one of the men immediately darted down the corridor to the left, disorientated with panic. The others continued rushing down the stairs, each of them heading in different directions in their rush to flee.
     
    Three
     
    Running down the corridor as quickly as his legs would allow, Glen slowed down and swung his flashlight behind him, scanning desperately.
    Nothing.
    Shit!
    He leaned forward in an attempt to get some air into his lungs. What was all that about? One minute they'd been looking around a boring room with nothing but tatty beds and the next they were running for their lives.
    Who shouted run? In the confusion, he couldn’t say for sure. I’ll bet it was Jonny and Stevie, their stupid idea of a joke.
    Looking around, he tried to gather his bearings. Glen had turned off the main corridor in panic, and he had no idea where he'd ended up. Shit, all of these corridors look exactly the same. He began walking back down the route that he had ran. After a few yards he came to a junction; one corridor ran both left and right and another went straight on. Considering his options, he tried to think back as to which way he had ran.
    I could have sworn that this is straight on and it will lead back to the main staircase.
    Cautiously, he started to back track. After a few yards he shone his flashlight down the corridor, it seemed a lot longer than the distance that he had remembered running. Turning, he headed back to the junction. Left or right? He had no idea.
    He shouted. “Hello!” Total silence.
    “Guys, stop fucking around.” Again, silence.
    He shone the torch down both corridors, they both looked identical. Bollocks . Take a look down one and if not, head back. He started to walk slowly, the shadows thrown off from the torch creating creepy images as the light bounced between the walls and the ceiling. He was just about to shout again when he heard something. Not too far away, it sounded like running water. Concentrating his effort on the sound, he headed in the direction that it came from, directly ahead.
    A faint light emanated from within one of the rooms ahead on the left, he hurried forward, the sound of the running water increasing in volume as he got closer. Pausing as he reached the open door, the illumination from within was barely bright enough to allow any detail to be seen. He slowly entered the room. A large cast iron bath tub sat directly ahead in the centre. The tap had been left running and water had filled the bath right the way up to the brim, it had begun to overflow onto the ceramic floor and pool at its feet. Instinctively, he turned the flow of the water off at the tap.
    Another noise caught his attention, it sounded like someone sobbing. Swinging his flashlight to the left, he made out the outline of a sink, it was full to the brim with what looked like blood, it had started to leak over the sides and slowly dripped to the floor. Next to one of the puddles lay a razor, its blade splashed with red. Written in blood on the mirror that was hung above the sink - Glen .
    Filled with dread, he concentrated on the sobbing sound that came from the corner of the room. The figure of a woman slowly started to emerge from the shadows. She was grotesque, her filthy brown hair partially covered her pale