I wasn’t sure about the people in the LED masks, but that one? Something told me we’d be seeing him again.
The metal lid clanged as it landed on the ground near the trashcans.
“You’re hurt,” Dion stated, concern heavy in his tone.
I held out my arms and examined the thin, bloodied lines the bitch with the claws had left behind.
“It’s just a few scratches.”
“And you’re neck?” Mel prodded.
“My neck?” I reached up and felt around my throat, the area still sore from where Ciaran had gripped it. This had to be what she was talking about.
“There was an incident in the principal’s office,” I replied dismissively. I didn’t want to have that discussion right now.
Ignoring the studious look, she gave me; I took in our new surroundings. We were in an alley--back alley. A tall chain link fence ran perpendicular on either side of us, the barbed wire at the top indicating it wasn’t meant to be climbed.
It wasn’t possible to see anything on the right. Pieces of plywood had been put up to block the view of the other side. Majority of the left revealed the main street we’d been on to begin with.
“You guys ready to keep moving?”
“We need to find this Sanitorium, don’t we?” Dion asked.
Mel straightened, tucking some hair behind her ears. “Yeah, the sooner the better. We don’t know what kind of situation Grace is in right now. Possibly Selena too.”
I wet my lips and started down the alley, rubbing the welts on my arms.
“That clock has said three AM since we got here,” Dion said.
“What clock?”.
He pointed upward. I looked, seeing the massive clocktower I’d given a passing glance when we first arrived. I hadn’t spared a thought for it. Now that I realized it overlooked the entire Devil’s Playground, maybe I should’ve.
“There’s no way it’s three in the morning. Does that mean anything? The time?” Mel asked.
He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “Three AM is a significant sign of the devil and dark entities. Since this is the ‘Devil’s Playground’, I would assume it has relevance somehow.”
I fixed my face so that I didn’t gawk at him. “How do you know all of this stuff?”
He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. I was noticing he did that when he was uncomfortable. “My father is really religious.”
I didn’t believe that for a second. But I couldn’t call him on it unless I called out myself. Focusing on where we were going next, I walked with them in silence. We reached the end of the alley and emerged onto another road that turned into an intersection. I paused, seeing a flashing arrow where normally the walk or don’t walk symbol would be for a crosswalk.
“Left.” I motioned to the light and resumed walking, keeping my eyes peeled.
“What’s the point of all the cars?” Dion asked.
I lifted a shoulder in a shrug.
“I think they’re for decoration,” Mel replied to him.
“What a waste of money.”
As we began to pass by an electronics store with televisions displayed in the front window, I was inclined to agree with him.
We’d nearly passed them when they suddenly flashed on. One by one each TV came to life broadcasting the same show. No. Not a show. It was an odd commercial. The format reminded me so much of Fallout, that I started to feel nostalgic.
The camera panned to an overview of a city, sweeping through it until a stone wall with a sign that read Devil’s Playground came into view, flashing just like the one we’d seen back in the ballroom. A narrator with a ridiculously cheerful voice spoke during the entire duration of the commercial.
“Are you one of the misjudged or considerably strange? Malevolent and depraved, eager to relieve those pent-up urges?
If you’re watching this from home and feel at any point jumping up and shouting, hell yeah! Then have I got the perfect place for you.”
He continued to speak, hyping this place up, the camera now showing various clips of the masked tyrants that plagued these very streets, some in the middle of killing or tormenting.
“What is this?” I murmured.
Near the end of the commercial the narrator switched pitch and began to list off warnings like this was a medication advertisement, going as far as mentioning waivers.
Beside me, Dion stared with his mouth slightly open while Mel’s expression was characteristically blank. The screens cut to blue, and then flashed again. I blinked twice, taking a second to realize we were now staring at ourselves. Right there, displayed on all the televisions was live footage of us.
“What the fuck did I just watch?” Dion whispered.
“Let’s keep going,” Mel suggested, urging both of us onward.
The hint of apprehension in her voice scared me. Mel was my GI Jane—my kickass Lara Croft. She was doing a superb job at keeping her poker face on. If she was shaken, then things were really fucked up. Unable to fathom any kind of helpful response, I nodded and picked up my pace.