I woke up due to a burning sensation spreading to my bare skin. The floor felt hot. And hard as steel, but burning hot in the first place. As my sight focused, returning from the slumber - I’ve noticed an enraged bearded face above me, shouting something. My head ached as if it was a pinata that managed to survive the party and the vision was all blurry and hazed.
“What the hell happened yesterday?” - I thought to myself - “Wait… Am I naked?”.
“For fuck’s sake, get to your feet! It’s heating.” - the bearded face’s voice finally broke through my sluggish perception.
“What? What are you… Shit!” - I’ve felt that my bare buttocks and feet are getting stung by the heat.
So I’ve rushed with all the speed I had left to stand straight, almost losing conscience again, as blood rushed from my head into my limp body.
I’ve quickly looked around: it seemed that we were inside of a room, with no windows and all the surfaces covered in sheets of metal, a massive iron door with a valve and a speaker on the wall. Apart of Beardie and me - there were 4 more naked men with us. All of them jumping from one foot to another, trying to avoid the burns from the heating up floor.
“What the hell, man? What’s going on here? Who are you, people? Why are we naked?” - I’ve shot all the questions at once, looking into angry and somewhat confused face of the beard guy.
“I don’t know. Anyone? Do you remember your names?” - he shout back over his shoulder.
Silence was the answer.
Which was interrupted by static from the speaker, until somebody on the other side picked up and tuned the mic: “Ah, so I see that my dance monkeys are up and performing. Good.”.
That resulted in 6 angry men screaming chaotically things like: “What the fuck!”, “Show yourself!” and “Let me out, you sick fuck!”.
But the voice continued: “At this point you might be thinking - why am I here, what is this place and why can’t I remember anything, right, fellas? Riiight. Well, the sweet treat I gave you should block most of the memories for… Let’s see… 8 more hours, I think. By that time, I expect you to do couple of things: one - repent for your sins and two - make it while you still last.”
“You psycho! Who the fuck do you think you are? A judge, Lord Almighty?” - Beardie shouted back but no response followed.
Meanwhile, I’ve started sweating like a pig. It was hot. Six of us were trapped in an improvised oven by a psychopath, who decided to execute his punishment on us, but what for?
“We’re gonna die either of suffocation or get roasted alive” - the guy behind me said. I will call him Inky, as he had a massive chest tattoo of an eagle, alongside many smaller ones.
“First of all - don’t panic. We should be able to find our way out if we work together”- the skinny old man replied, whom I will name Gramps.
“I’ve tried the door already, it won’t budge an inch” - Beardie replied dropping sweat to the ground, as he jumped up and down.
“You two! Any ideas?” - Gramps asked the rest of men.
As I’ve looked over Beardie’s shoulder I suddenly realized that one of the two guys left had only a single leg. That made it extra hard for him to avoid the heat, so his partner was holding the crippled man’s arm over his shoulders, helping him to jump together with him. Also that samaritan had long blonde hair that soaked in sweat. So I’ve named those two Pirate and Bon Jovi (don’t ask, I wasn’t thinking straight).
And no, no fresh ideas from those two.
The heat was still bearable. It burned, but like the desert sand when the sun is at it’s peak. Some minutes passed and we didn’t come up with anything. Guys tried the door couple of times again - joining forces didn’t result in anything either. Solid.
We’ve discussed if we could use walls somehow, but those had no broad dents or holes, which we could hold on to, preventing our feet touching the frying pan below.
The ceiling was out of reach too - way too high.
That’s where the dehydration started to kick in slowly, making my temples pound and my lips to crack - losing all that water with sweat sped up the things in rapid manner.
I saw Inky sucking on blood from his bruised dry lips instinctively. And suddenly he said:
“I think I may have killed somebody…”. Out of the blue.
We all stared back at him. “The taste of blood in my mouth… It reminds me. This metallic taste, you know? I remember it. And I’m sure the blood was not mine. Mine is less sweet, or something.”
Everybody had to think. This didn’t explain anything.
“But wait… Is this the ”sin“ that jerk talked about? What does the rest of us have to do with it?” - Bon Jovi said.
“Well, maybe we’re a gang of mass murderers and were all involved in some slaughter. Just a guess” - I’ve said.
“Yeah, especially this guy over there who can’t stay straight for a minute. ” - Gramps laughed back.
The speaker broke our conversation with some more static and then spew out next words: “Oh, gentlemen. Having some good times, are we? I think it’s time to speed up your thinking. Let’s spice it up a bit, shall we?”
Jokes were over. In a course of couple next minutes I’ve felt with my soles, that the temperature went up. Now it was really hard to focus, as the steel below me was burning like a thousand of stings puncturing the harsh skin on my feet.
All of us started to jump even more intensively, just to stay that half a second away from the smoldering surface.
Lack of fresh air, dehydration, and extremely hot surroundings ripped the first victim - all of a sudden Gramps collapsed to his knees, reaching out for his chest, as if he was suffocating.
“Stand back. Give him space.” - Beardie rushed to the old man, raising him up, holding him over in the same manner Bon Jovi was treating the Pirate.
I’ve lowered my eyes to Gramps knees - those were reddish and swollen from contacting the hot surface with his tender elderly skin.
“I think I’m a paramedic” - Beardie said.
“What?” - several of us replied.
“As I rushed to pick him up - I got a feeling that I did this many times before. Like a job, you know?” - he said.
“So we have a guy who thinks he killed somebody and a guy claiming he is paramedic” - the Pirate coughed with wheezy breath. “Nice. Well, I’ll be a royal majesty then, lads” - he laughed in hoarse voice.
We used all our brain power, which was available to us, considering we had to jump constantly not to get burned too bad, especially considering there were two people, who couldn’t do this on their own now.
It came back as nothing.
The crackling silence of heating air was cut in half with the sudden microphone to speaker feedback noise and the message from our torturer: “I could do this all day, but unfortunately I have other errands to care about, so how about we heat our thing a couple degrees up?”
That wild feedback sound gave me a numb feeling somewhere at the back of my skull. As if I’ve heard that sound many times before.
“I think I’m a sound technician.” - I said - “That sound the speaker made. I think I’ve heard that millions of times before. But that’s just my guess”.
Nobody was amused with this piece of information. It made things even harder.
“I think he passed away” - Beardie said soon, checking old man’s pulse.
Grim silence hanged in the air, as all of us stared at the skinny lifeless body twitching in tact of bearded man’s jumps.
“Drop him. Let’s use his body, so others can survive” - Inky quickly muttered - “That’s our chance”.
Everybody kept their thoughts on right and wrong to themselves and then Beardie just let the old man’s arm go.
The heated steel hissed quietly as the dead flesh landed on the ground. I guess I would throw up if I weren’t so dehydrated at that point.
Without consulting with the rest of us - Bon Jovi jumped towards the dead body dragging the Pirate with him, putting his only leg atop of Gramp’s remains. He nodded to us as if in “I guess it’s the right thing to do” and we nodded back, without saying the word. The body below hissed more intensively as pressure was applied.
We were stuck in a nightmare, though we were too confused and tired to break into mindless panic.
“Hold, up, gentlemen. That’s considered cheating. Plus, how are you going to see the whole picture now, as one of you… well… retired? You leave me no choice. Let’s boost your thinking” - the speaker cracked through.
In the passing couple of minutes - it became just unbearable. I’ve checked the swollen skin on my feet - blisters started to form, which resonated with blind pain each time I landed back on the floor. The suffering was debilitating.
Bon Jovi had enough. He climbed atop the broiling rests of the old man alongside the crippled guy, positioning his burnt feet on the head and the rib cage, while the Pirate had his on the pelvis. Both of them balancing, trying not to fall.
Moments later, Inky just snapped. I think hysteria got him. He suddenly just started screaming something like: “No! No! Jesus, no! I can’t take it anymore”. Then he ran towards the two atop the corpse, intending to kick them off and take their place, but something went wrong - he fell over and collapsed to the ground.
What I heard next will probably haunt me for the rest of my life - that wasn’t a scream, no. That was an animal roaring in pain. Inky rolled over the floor, with bits of his burnt skin sticking to hot steel here and there, tearing away from his naked body. Wailing, crying, bellowing of pain. He tried to get up couple of times, though he slipped on the blood pouring from his numerous wounds. Until, in some confusing motion he banged his head over the steel covered wall and felt silent, leaving us with with dread feeling of impending doom.
As the pain became unbearable - I’ve checked that the guy was done and in a single rapid motion crossed the room, finishing atop of his back. It felt like running over razor blades soaked in acid.
It was becoming harder to see around, as the liquids from the dead bodies evaporated, polluting the hot air.
While I didn’t pay much attention to my surroundings - I was finally able to focus. Beardie was quiet for quite some time now. I’ve checked to the left and then to the right. The huge guy somehow managed to climb the door, so to speak. He had both of his roasted feet, soaking with ichor on the valve, balancing, fighting for his life. Or at least that was my perception of things, because in reality - that was still a question of “When will he snap?”.
And then my brain reacted to the gruesome fact - he was not battling for his life, he was alternating the ending.
Somehow that bear of a man was able to chew through the skin of his arms - one after another, and as the crimson stream fell down, seeming not to reach the floor, evaporating on the fly he stood there repeating: “Just not like this, man. Just not like this…”.
In a couple of minutes, that lasted like eternity - his eyes rolled back and his body hit the ground. The choking smell of his beard burning hit my nostrils.
Couple of moments passed. Three of us had nothing to say. Nobody was trying to remember. Nobody had the hope of surviving. We were just there, standing on the remains of unlucky strangers, coping with the inevitable.
Have you ever cut a whole baked turkey, or a chicken, maybe? I won’t ever in my life. Why? The meat produces this quiet sound of tissue ripping, when you stick the knife with pressure.
That’s what just happened to Bon Jovi and the Pirate - the old man’s body cooked through. Just as horrible as it sounds - but way much worse when you see it. It just ripped into two parts, separating the spine from all the conjoining tissues. It played against two exhausted men trying to balance. So both of them flew to their backs.
I saw surprise and horror in their faces. They were not ready. Inhuman screams filled the room once again, while two charred bodies rolled through the agony to the Otherside. I cried silently, grieving on their souls, unable to shed a single drop of tears, understanding that this fate keeps crawling towards me.
“Just please, open the door. Please, let me out. I don’t want to die”- I whined to gods, celestial beings and whomever could hear me in this situation.
Static and then the same voice: “Well, I can’t resist if you ask nicely. Go ahead” - something clicked at the back side of the door. “You are free to go.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. What kind of sick joke is this? This made no sense. What’s about repenting the sins and all that stuff?
But I had no time to waste. What if all of this is just a bluff to prolong my suffering?
I’ve carefully balanced my way on roasted flesh of Inky, making every step count, so I don’t slip off to the immolating end of being burned alive. But the distance to Beardie’s body was way too far to jump over too, besides, the charred corpse couldn’t take the pressure on impact.
I’ve bit my lower lip as hard as I could and ran across, leaving the skin of my soles sticking to the ground., leaving me with bleeding feet and bitten lip, but still alive.
Standing on the massive corpse - I’ve reached towards the valve and to my surprise - it turned easily, crack opening the door to my escape.
Cool air hit hard into my face, as I crawled on my four away from the devilish room through a dark corridor. It still wasn’t over. I wasn’t safe yet.
As I had not that many options - I just went forward. Until I got to the only source of light I could notice. There was a small room at the corridor ending, with a table, some files, a monitor, which showed the gruesome picture of roasted bodies and some audio equipment.
While I was catching my breath - I couldn’t but pick up one of the files. It was Inky’s. His name was Richard Addams. He was a barber, not a killer. Next came Beardie, or Ben Willis, the cook in a restaurant.
The rest were - Neil Scott, ex-construction worker, who suffered a work incident; Gram Nelson - an old school teacher; and finally Josh Rudy - university student. And of course - there was I: Fillip Jones, the zoo keeper.
There was no connection. Our “revelations” about being paramedics and killers were just fake memories and guesses. This made absolutely no sense.
“You might wonder why did I do this to you?” - I’ve realized a hooded figure stood in the distance, hidden in dark shadows casted by the light on the table.
I wanted to answer, I wanted to ask questions, but my mouth was too dry. I couldn’t make a sound. I was exhausted.
“Oh, not in the mood for talking… Okay. I’ll tell you anyways”- the figure came closer. I still couldn’t see his face, as he leaned to me and said: “No particular reason”. I’ve felt the sting of the needle to my neck and the world faded to black.
After I’ve recovered from the hospital - I thought a lot about what happened. Police was all over the place, but with such poor data - the investigation is not going very fast. People keep go missing around the city. Somebody leaves, somebody becomes the natural disaster victims, some die to gunshots and end up in rivers and lakes, with weight attached to them. That doesn’t scare me anymore. I will never recover from being the last man standing. I’m afraid that this psycho won’t stop there. I am so afraid to wake up naked again…