———————————————————————— B R O K E N R E C O R D C H A P T E R 1 A N A C R U S I S ———————————————————————— Being startled awake is never a pleasurable experience, especially when you’re caught up in the pleasantest of dreams. Especially when your mind sinks into a state of believing that everything is too good to be true. Especially when you’re sleeping oh-so-comfortably, when you’re living in a fictional world inside your head where stress has no meaning. Where you’re caught up in a little bubble, a secluded space where evil tries its best to fight and get in, but your conscious dutifully hinders its presence, allows you to live through your wildest fantasies without the weight of reality. And then, suddenly, an alarm blares right into your ear. Or someone shakes your shoulder. And you’re snatched away from that world, away from that momentary bliss. For the 27 people who had been kidnapped from the Annual Blueberry Festival two days ago in Beuchene, Iowa, they felt this phenomenon to its fullest effect. Because all of them were startled awake by the sound of someone firing a Winchester 12-gague pump-action shotgun into the ceiling. “Everyone wake up! You say anything, the next shot goes through your head point-blank!” Someone yelled, racking the forearm of the gun. An empty shell bounced out of the ejection port and onto the floor with a click. The sheer sound (which only amplified and echoed in the chamber they were all in) was almost deafening; more than enough to jolt practically everyone out of their slumber. At first there was confusion. Murmurs and groans filled the room, hazy gazes scoping out surroundings… ———————————————————————— The surroundings that the victims happened to make out certainly didn’t fit under the standards of a five-star interior decorator. Far from it, actually. It was apparent that the conditions of the building were sub-par, with rust and grime running rampant. Each victim was in a separate chamber throughout three floors, each room about the size of a standard office. They were supplied with a teetering desk, a dusty office chair, a small cot, a blanket, a cheap picture frame on the wall and a small speaker bolted to the ceiling. Each door was locked from the outside, a zip tie fastened to the door handle and a steel hook drilled into the wall. Plus, every room had an open window looking out across the rest of the interior of the building; what they could see was a grand foyer, which the second and third floors overlooked. It contained rooms and hallways jutting off in different directions. The floors, ceiling and walls were made of exclusively concrete; some pieces were painted an off-white, which had greatly chipped from age. To add to the weathered look, each window was covered by steel bars. By the looks of it, they were in some sort of abandoned building, though it was hard to tell what kind. As for their kidnappers, there were currently three people in the room with the victims. While the captors had kidnapped people in dark hoodies that shrouded all noticeable features, now that they were in their element, they were wearing surprisingly-normal clothing. The only feature that remained were the masks. On the ground floor was a tall man with sandy-blonde hair spiked upwards, wearing red flannel, jeans and worker boots. Soft blue eyes hid underneath his mask. He seemed to be the one that fired the gun. He watched the ones panicking with a look of amusement. On the second floor was a woman in a green army jacket and baggy joggers. She looked Latina, with medium skin and curly brown hair hanging to her mid-back. She had a bandage wrapped around her calf, and seemed to limp with each step she took. She seemed fairly indifferent about the entire scenario. As for the one on the third floor, it was a short figure that looked rather androgynous; they wore cuffed jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, with fuzzy brown hair. Their hands were shaking profusely, to the point where they could hardly grip onto the hand-rails without rattling them. Their mask had red, drawn on teeth and flowers. They were clearly off-put by the panic, staring at the floor anxiously. ———————————————————————— When people had come to the conclusion that this was for real, that they had been kidnapped, panic struck. Some lashed out, some started to cry, some stayed dead silent, and some started desperately searching for a way out. But before things got out of hand, a grainy hissing filled the speakers in each of the cells as a microphone began to receive feedback. “Hello.” A voice called out from the audio device. “Hello. Welcome, everyone.” They repeated. “Everyone, listen to the man on the first floor and quiet down. What you’re about to hear could impact the duration of your life.” They began, inhaling sharply. (cont.)
