Sinbad waited a little bit after Horse-Face left, before getting to his feet again. He tried flipping through the book some more, but no English words popped out to him.
“Maybe I should’ve asked that guy if he could translate all this shit…” Tucking the book back under his arm, Sinbad tried to get back to a certain pace of walking.
As he walked, Sinbad could’ve sworn he heard whispering around him. Instead of stopping again, though, he kept going.
Stepping out once more into the hallways, Annette made sure Ox-Head was close behind her, like a dutiful guard dog.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” she said to him. “You never know when The Builder might come this way.”
“But how do I peel my eyes? I don’t have a potato peeler or something like that. And peeling your eyes sounds like it would hurt!”
It was taking a lot out of Annette just to try and reach the corner. She was almost dumbstruck at just how much of an impact Sinbad’s left hook had on her.
She coughed a few times as she stumbled into the cellar, over to its hidden door. It took a bit more effort than usual to open it.
Once in, Annette tripped over her own feet, landing on the filthy ground. Before she could stand back up, she caught sight of a very dirty pair of feet.
It was Marc’s shrieking that alerted The Builder, them dropping what was left of their grisly meat pie. Annette and the others could hear it loud and clear.
“The fuck…?” Sinbad and Harwood looked at each other in fear. Though they were a bit relieved that Marc was alive, they knew The Builder was likely not to let him go scot free.
Annette wasn’t quick enough to stop them from running off, brandishing their hunting knife. Her blood chilled even long after Marc quieted down. Continue Reading
Dennis was still reeling over what he’d seen when Blaise came up to him. A tug on his sleeve was the jolt he needed to return to some form of reality.
“Uh, hate to interrupt yer bonding time, Denny,” she told him as Marc came up to them, “but Silent Bob back there says we need to skedaddle.”
“They didn’t really give a reason why. Just said we had to go,” Marc piped up. As he spoke, he picked up Sagebear and held her close.
Once again, Sinbad was left alone in the cramped little cage that he’d been shoved into.
The Builder had gone off somewhere, presumably to cook the clone’s face that they had been munching on.
“Yeah, this is real accommodating…” Sinbad mumbled to himself.
Sinbad was still relatively damp when The Builder returned. Over their shoulder was a corpse still dripping with blood and brain matter, out of a gaping hole from his head.
“Sorry about that, sir!” They told him in an unfittingly chirpy voice. “One of your son’s clones got out, and he had to die.”
This just made Sinbad grit his teeth. He was so tired of people mentioning children in relation to him.
By the time Sinbad came back to reality, he realized he was drenched in a copious amount of cold water.
Nearby, The Builder was laughing uproariously at his state. They just kept laughing as if seeing him all wet was the most hilarious thing in the world.
“Hope you don’t stink up the place with your wet dog smell, buddy!” Then The Builder went back to spraying him.
Amelia was still looking out the window, looking for any sign that the others were coming back. Every minute that went by with no sight of them, and she became even more distraught.
“What if they never come back? What if they’ve been killed on the way?” She asked her sister in a wavering voice.
Amara came up to her, before handing her a submarine sandwich from a plate of food she’d been making.
As soon as Annette was done explaining what was going to happen, everyone was stunned into a disturbed silence.
“Yeah so…That’s going to happen,” She added on in an effort to break the tension. There was still no proper reaction.
Then, gradually, Marc reached up to grab hold of his face. As he did so, a guttural throat sound was heard, before it crescendoed into an outright shriek.