No Strings Attached

Chapter 5

No Strings Attached

V

Isaiah sighed. How exactly did the blind guy end up leading them through this maze of a funhouse? Laughter from Miranda and Thomas's conversation tickled his ears. Perhaps he was a bit jealous at how those two got along; how easily they were handling the situation, so long as they had each other. It was his fault though, repeatedly telling Miranda (as well as himself) that he had the situation under control, that he should be the leader, that he was going to take care of them.

Something in his head was screaming at him. What made him think he could do this? He already failed so many times at so many little things. Nothing in his life compared to this. Uncountable times he had been given the responsibility to care for someone and he let them down every single time. Doubt was grabbing hold of his very being but somehow he managed to fight it off. Each time he heard Miranda or Thomas laugh or sigh, he used it as fuel to fight the monsters that dared to strike his self-worth.

Failure wasn't going to be his fate again. Nor would he allow his failure to dictate someone else's fate. So what if he had no idea where they were or where they were headed? Surely, if he just pushed forward, they would find a way out. Isn't that what life was all about?

They had left the kitchen a good ten minutes ago and had wandered through twisting hallways often lined with nothing but empty picture frames and lit with dim wall lamps. Doors were few and far between. Each time they tried to step into a room, they found themselves in another hallway. Frustrated, Isaiah wanted to sit down and rest, but he also didn't want to give away his misgivings.

Eventually, after about a dozen failed attempts, he found a door that led into a new room. It was pitch black. Isaiah poked his head in but couldn't see a single thing. It wasn't safe for him to allow others to enter, so he put his hand up and said, "Wait here."

Miranda was confused at first. Isaiah had been quiet up to that point. She chalked it up to him trying to be the adult in the situation. It was a feeling she understood perfectly, she just wished Isaiah would realize he didn't need to shoulder that burden alone. Now he had disappeared into a strange room in his attempt to be a hero. Why would anyone want to do anything alone in this sick place?

Straining her ears, she tried to pick up on any sounds that might come from that dark room. Footsteps, a sound of disgust, and the squeak of tennis shoes on a slick floor preceded a soft "thud." Gagging was next. Concerned, she neared the entrance. Before she could get close enough, Isaiah bolted out and slammed the door shut, heaving in fear as he leaned against it.

The entire right side of Isaiah's body was covered in a dark substance, having soaked his clothes and stained his skin a reddish tone. Drops accumulated on the edge his fingers and fell to the sleek hardwood floors. Miranda's eyes followed on particular drop as she tried to identify what she was looking at.

Blood. A lot of blood. Eyes wide with fear, she asked, "Isaiah, are you alright?"

After having a moment to control himself, Isaiah let out one final heavy sigh and his breathing returned to normal. The taste of vomit was still in his mouth, as well as the iron taste of blood. Unwilling to share what he had just seen, he just waved her off and said, "I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about."

I'm definitely going to need therapy after this, he thought to himself. Still shaking, he didn't move from his spot against the door, afraid his knees would give out. Inside that dark room, he had stumbled into a warm chamber where the stench of rotting flesh was poorly masked by aerosol air fresheners. Undeterred, he had stepped forward and placed his hand on wall to better guide himself through the darkness. Something about the texture of the wall disturbed him; it felt like a stretched piece of parchment paper. A glance up and he found himself touching a drying piece of human rawhide, the outline of a human body still noticeable in its form. In his haste to move away he slipped, splashing down into a puddle of blood.

The memory was being replayed over and over again in his head, the sensation of human hide still tickling his fingertips, the stench of flesh still plugging his nostrils. A few harsh blinks and a hard shake of his head rid the memory for the moment.

Miranda reached out and lightly touched his arm, daring to stain her fingers with the blood that was drying on Isaiah's body. The touch made Isaiah flinch, but the consoling hold she gave brought his heartbeat down a tad. Despite his hazy vision without glasses, he could see her eyes full of concern and her lips turned into a gentle frown. It soothed him.

"Let's clean you up!"

There was that voice again. The three kids knew something was about to happen and they knew they weren't going to like it. Numbness overtook their bodies and with a flash they found themselves in another room in another part of the house. Vomit threatened to pour out of Isaiah after the numbing sensation faded and a wave of dizziness washed over him. Fortunately, Miranda was still holding his arm, and her warm hands kept him grounded.

They took in their surroundings. Stamped concrete was below their feet and the walls were painted a bright blue. A stone's throw from where they stood was a large indoor swimming pool, the water crystal clear underneath the fluorescent lights. Free weights were found in the opposite corner, as well as a treadmill and yoga mat. It was such a departure from the other rooms they had been in that at first they doubted whether they were even in the same house as before.

Another person joined them as Thomas was transported there. The location of his appearance was not ideal. Floating a few feet above the edge of the pool, he fell down and smashed the side of his head on the concrete floor. The majority of his body already in the water, he slumped underneath and didn't splash.

"Tommy!"

Miranda screamed the moment his head cracked. Hastily she kicked off her shoes and tore her shirt off as she rushed into the pool after him.

"Miranda!"

Isaiah was following suit after her. He was gripping one of his shoes when he suddenly stopped. A couple of questions ran through his mind: what was he about to do, and why did she take her shirt off? Did she not realize a teenage boy was present?

Those questions were gone and his thoughts cleared when heard the splash of water. She demanded, "Isaiah! Aren't you going to grab him?!"

"Uh, y-yeah."

That was uncool, he mentally beat himself up as he heard his cracked stutter. After adjusting the show he nearly removed he hurried to the edge of the pool where Miranda was holding Thomas's head barely above the water, kicking her feet to stay afloat. Her free hand gripped the concrete and he nearly knelt on it when he reached down to lift Thomas out of the water.

Cut just above his temple, Thomas grimaced. Blood was streaking down his cheek but it didn't appear to be a deep wound. Isaiah cradled the youngster for a moment before he carefully set him down, ensuring that his head didn't receive any more rattling. Thomas whimpered slightly but was still found a way to mutter, "Thanks."

Isaiah twisted back toward the pool, ready to help Miranda up. She was already ahead of him and was halfway out when she used his knee as a stepping stone, gripping it as she hoisted herself out of the cold water. Ignorant of the awkward proximity of their bodies as she stepped over him, she didn't apologize or thank him for his help. Motionless, he remained knelt down, the water droplets off her body softening the dried blood on his face and arm. Sweat mingled with the pool water and blood, making his skin feel even dirtier.

Miranda retrieved her shirt and was in the process of putting it back on when she glanced at Isaiah. His entire body was rigid as he stared forward across the room, never turning back to acknowledge her or check on Thomas.

Suddenly he leaned forward and dove face first into the pool. Miranda was rattled by the action and ran to the edge. Isaiah popped his head up the moment she leaned over and he smiled at her. "I was feeling pretty gross with that gunk on me. This is nice. The water's great," he said.

She returned the smile and said, "Feel free to stay in there as long as you need. We should let Tommy rest."

She turned away from him and he watched her retreat toward Thomas, only the top of his head still above the water. He hoped Pudge and Carrie were having an easier time then he was.