No Strings Attached

Chapter 13

No Strings Attached

XIII

Pudge was the one to take charge after that. He demanded that they keep moving, doing his best to convince everyone that staying put was a bad idea for their bodies physically and mentally at this point. Even though no one besides Miranda acknowledged his words, he bounded up the stairs and never looked back. With no doors or windows present, going up was the only option they had left. Determined to fight back after all the misery they'd just wrestled through, he lead the group with furor.

The others followed him. Thomas stopped for a moment to observe the broken puppet leg left on the staircase. Tempted to keep it as a trophy but really more interested in never seeing this place again, Thomas picked it up before flicking it off the stairs and onto the floor below. That was the first time anyone had ever gotten close enough to touch the puppet in all the time that Thomas had been there, and he felt proud of the fact that he was the one to get the strong kick in. Apparently, Isaiah was pleased, too, as he gently patted Thomas on the back as he passed by him, an impressed smile on his face as he motioned toward the puppet leg.

Once at the top of the stairs, Pudge led them for only a brief while before Miranda suddenly overtook him. Back into the spiral of endless hallways, she would stop only to peek inside rooms and see if there was anything worthwhile. Each room was empty and often the door opened up to space no bigger than a small closet. Somehow, she never lost heart when she led, and opened each door with determination and hope that it might take them somewhere.

Pudge watched her, curious as to how she had yet to breakdown. Her body was covered in cuts from breaking through the invisible barrier to save Carrie and occasionally she would roll her neck as though she was trying to pop it back into place. She was tough, Pudge gave her that at least. Not just physically, but mentally as well. She held herself together fairly well. She was the big sis of the group, no doubt about it. Yet, if Pudge was right about this being a place for messed up dead kids, then…

"So what's your damage?"

Pudge's voice came out harsher than he had intended. It didn't seem to bother Miranda, as she glanced over her shoulder briefly and appeared more curious than angry. Her attention returned forward as she opened the next door, only to reveal nothing inside the small room. After the door was closed, she finally answered, "My what?"

"Damage," Pudge repeated. Confused, she motioned for him to explain. "Everyone here has problems. We're all kinda messed up. So what happened to you? Dad hit you? Teacher touch you? Got some guilt or somethin' going on in that pretty head of yours?"

By this point, the entire group had stopped in the hallway. All's eyes were on Miranda as they awaited her answer. If the extra attention made her uneasy, she didn't show it. Instead, she twisted on her heel and continued to trek forward. She said, "I don't know. I have nothing to complain about in life."

Someone stopped her when their hand snatched hers. She turned to find herself face to face with Isaiah. He whispered, "You're not lying, right?" His hand squeezed hers in his attempt to give her support, to assure her that she could be honest with him no matter what.

She pulled her hand away. "Of course not," she said.

"Guys," Pudge said, his voice interrupting the two. Now it was his turn to be the center of attention. He stood in the middle of the hallway, his hand clenching his damaged arm, sweat peppering his face and forehead, his skin pale and his body quaking. Before Miranda could ask what was wrong, Pudge said, "I need to rest."

In the time it took for him to speak, Miranda closed the distance between the two of them and snatched his damaged arm to inspect it. He yelped, the two fractures sending fresh throbs of pain to his brain. Cold skin from Pudge clashed with the warm fingertips of Miranda as she gently touched the swollen hand. Disappointed, she "tsked" and said, "You've got yourself a boxer's fracture. Moron." The redness and swelling continued all the way to his elbow, where the makeshift bandage was completely soaked. For a moment, she stared blankly at the mess of a limb. Finally, she announced. "You're right. We all have injuries. We all need to rest."

"But where?" Isaiah asked. He hadn't meant to say it out loud and hadn't even realized he did. This time, he decided to open a door and hoped for better results than Miranda had gotten.

They watched him as he swung the door open to a new room. He stared inside, his expression shocked and disgusted, as the light from inside cascaded into the hallway. Curious, Miranda decided to join him. Cautiously, she poked her head over his shoulder and peered inside. All she could do was gasp as the sight inside struck her. At the threshold, a pool of blood with footprints and splash marks; a bucket next to the puddle revealed the origin of the spill; the walls were covered in hides drying out, the bones organized neatly in piles in the far corner of the room.

Isaiah hadn't realized Miranda was there until he heard her gasp, the realization that inside was a tanning room for human flesh hitting her much quicker than it had even for him. Instantly he had spun around and embraced her, refusing to let her face forward. As he held her face into his chest the overwhelming stench from inside flooded their noses. Desperately he tried to kick the door closed, but his foot missed every time. He whipped his head toward the room and ordered, "Pudge!"

Pudge understood what was being asked, and he tried to move toward the room but was too weak. He fell to his knees, the fever that was taking hold of his mind finally shutting down his body. Carrie worriedly knelt next to him, her hand wiping the cold sweat from his cheeks. This left Thomas as the one to help, and he did so without hesitation. The youngster sprinted toward the room and slammed the door shut with the fury of one annoyed kid.

Miranda heard the door shut and she waited patiently for Isaiah to let her go. Somehow, he had managed to finagle her face so it was pressed directly against his heart. All she could hear or feel was his breathing and the palpitation of his erratic heart. The vision of the room was already out her mind and the odor of death had been replaced with the scent of dirt, grime, and sweat that covered Isaiah's chest. She was ready to move on but Isaiah still had yet to let go. Carefully, she moved her arms to snatch his and she started to pry herself free. Her hand accidently grabbed the wound on his forearm, and the sting had Isaiah jump. It brought his mind back to the present and he backed away from Miranda without a word.

She let out a sigh, happy to be free again. Isaiah didn't hear it. Miranda put her focus back on Pudge. With Carrie's help he was slowly getting back to his feet again. Soon Miranda joined them and the three silently continued to trek forward. Pudge could only mutter thanks to the two girls, surprised to see Carrie and Miranda offering help.

Isaiah remained motionless as he watched the trio move past him. Pain from the dog bite on his arm had flared a moment ago but now was forgotten as something else took over his mind. Yet he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was that suddenly took hold of his head, so he merely stared blankly at the trio as they moved farther and farther away. It wasn't until Thomas grabbed his shirt did Isaiah shake away the darkness.

Thomas asked, "Hey, what's wrong?"

Isaiah smiled at him. This boy was a lot more with it than it appeared at times. In many ways, he was stronger and more resilient than any of them, just for having lasted this long. The pleading tone and puppy eyes from Thomas made Isaiah honestly answer, "I'm not sure. Guess I just feel useless suddenly."

"Don't feel that way. You've kept us together this long," Thomas assured him.

No, Miranda has kept us together, Isaiah thought but refused to say. Isaiah started to realize that in many ways, he'd probably done more harm than good. He'd slowed them down when leading and he'd nearly killed them just moments ago through his own fears. If this was anyone's purgatory, it was definitely his.

Once more he shook away all those negative thoughts. He surprised Thomas by sweeping the kid off the ground and tossing him over his shoulder. The sound of the youngster's amused laughter in his ear was all he needed for motivation. They didn't need a leader or someone to take care of them, he concluded. It was going to be a group effort. That would be the only way all of them could possibly make it out alive.