The basent was dark and cold.
They grabbed flashlights from the van and headed back down. Luke led the way, the beam cutting through the stale air that slled like mold and old rust.
Rayne stayed right behind him, gripping the broken chair leg like it was the only thing keeping him sane. Heather and Nikki clung to each other at the back, both shaking so hard they could barely walk.
"Kenny? Kenny, you down here?"
Rayne's voice echoed off the concrete walls. No answer.
The light swept across the space. It was bigger than they expected—piles of junk everywhere, and a long row of heavy iron hooks bolted into the wall like sothing straight out of a slaughterhouse.
"This place looks like a goddamn butcher shop," Brando muttered.
Lionel kicked an old tal bowl across the floor—the sa one he'd stepped on earlier. Dried-up food still clung to the inside, rotting.
"Jesus. The hygiene in here is criminal. This is how you grow superbugs."
Luke ignored them. His flashlight was locked on a thick tal door at the far end of the basent. Frost clung to the surface. It looked like a walk-in freezer. No lock—just barely closed.
A bad feeling settled over everyone.
Heather's grip on Nikki's arm tightened until her nails dug in. "Kenny… he's not in there, right?"
Nikki's voice cracked. She was already crying.
Luke glanced at Lionel, then pushed the door open.
A blast of cold, rotten air hit them—blood and spoiled at.
Nikki gagged and turned away. The flashlight beam swept inside.
The room was small. In the center sat a big stainless-steel table covered in dark red chunks of at.
Rayne stepped closer. When he saw what was sitting on top of the pile, he let out a raw, broken scream.
Two severed heads. One was Kenny's. The other belonged to the hitchhiker they'd picked up on the road.
"Oh my God—he killed Kenny! That fucking monster!"
Rayne's eyes went wild. He rushed forward and grabbed Kenny's head with both hands.
The second he saw Kenny's face, he froze.
Kenny's eyes were wide open, frozen in pure terror.
Heather scread and dropped to her knees. Nikki's eyes rolled back and she collapsed again—fourth ti today.
Rayne clutched the cold head to his chest and started howling. He punched the steel table over and over until his knuckles split and blood sared across the tal, but he didn't feel a thing.
Only Luke, Brando, and Lionel stayed calm.
Luke and Brando had seen too much already. Lionel just used the distraction to quietly stuff the chunks of at he'd saved earlier back into the gaping hole in his chest.
Luke moved to the table and started checking the pieces. Both bodies had been cleanly chopped into small sections.
Brando leaned in, rubbing his chin. "Why the hell would he do this?"
"Don't ask what the cult wants," Luke said without looking up. "Just look at what they actually did."
He kept searching. When he found Kenny's hand, he noticed the fingers were clenched tight, like the kid had grabbed sothing right before he died.
Luke pried the stiff fingers open one by one.
A small tal badge slid out into his palm.
"Son of a bitch. It's the sa one."
Luke held it up. The twisted symbol was identical to the one he'd found in that Miami hotel room.
He looked at Brando.
"Looks like your theory was right. This place is one of their bases."
Brando's face went serious. "If that's true, there's no way there's only one of these modified freaks. That big guy wasn't exactly a genius. Soone else has to be running the experints and keeping things organized. Where the hell did they go?"
Everyone turned at the sa ti and stared at Heather, still sitting on the floor.
This manor was her inheritance. If it was really a cult hideout, she was connected—whether she knew it or not.
Heather felt their eyes on her and started shaking. She looked up, those bright blue eyes full of fear and disbelief.
The house she thought was her safe place had turned into hell.
"I… I'm calling the police!"
Luke reached into his jacket and pulled out his badge. He held it up so everyone could see.
"No need. I am the police."
The official ID gave everyone a little bit of relief.
Heather scrambled up and grabbed his shirt, voice shaking. "Mr. Luke, none of this is my fault. I swear. Please don't arrest !"
Luke patted her shoulder. "Relax. I know how these people operate. If you were one of them, I wouldn't be standing here talking. I'd have put a bullet in you already."
Heather went quiet, eyes wide.
Luke kept going. "But this manor belonged to your blood relatives. Think hard. Any clues? Anything at all that connects them to this place."
Heather's mind raced. Then her face lit up. "Yes! My lawyer gave a huge stack of papers and my grandmother's will. I haven't even opened them yet—they're in my room!"
Luke nodded, satisfied. People rembered things a lot faster when you pushed them.
They covered the pieces on the table with a sheet and left the basent.
Upstairs in Heather's room, Luke stopped just inside the doorway. His nose twitched.
"Sothing's wrong. This room slls like death."
Everyone froze. They started tearing the place apart.
Luke's flashlight landed on a huge old wardrobe in the corner. The rotten sll was definitely coming from inside.
He yanked the doors open.
A dried-out corpse was curled up inside.
Brando stepped closer, studying the face and bones. "Based on the features… this has to be your grandmother."
Heather's mouth fell open.
"But that doesn't make sense," Brando said, frowning. "You said she died recently. This level of mummification takes years."
User Comments
0 comments from readers