A New Kind of High A short story by MB Mulhall Published by MB Mulhall Digital Edition Copyright 2012 MB Mulhall This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. I gag on the scent of fear, wafting through the air. It’s not my fear. Not yet. What the hell am I doing in here? “How could you let them talk you into this, Anna?” I chastise myself aloud. “OH, right. Richie Rich the boyfriend paid my way as a “gift.” Some gift…” I look around the dark square room. Black walls, black floor, black ceiling, black speakers. Nothing particularly stands out as odd, but there’s an air of dread. Something tells me I am not going to make it through this. It smells like sweat. You know how when you’re attracted to someone and you snuggle up next to them and take a whiff after they’ve done something to get all sweaty and it totally turns you on? Yeah, it’s nothing like that. It’s sour and stale and thick, almost malleable, with hints of urine and vomit commingling at the edges. I cover my mouth as I feel my lunch threatening to make a comeback. Sorry lunch, you were only meant to be a one hit wonder. The ominous creaking sound of the heavy door swinging shut makes me nearly jump out of my skin. I am not cut out for this. Is it too late to turn back? Will pounding my fists against the closed door bring someone to my aid? As my world plunges into total darkness, I sense the answer is a resounding “no.” “Move forward,” a creepy electronic sounding voice orders me. Had I not seen the speakers on the wall before the lights went out, I’d be flailing my arms right about now trying to fight whatever it was that was speaking. “Move forward,” it repeats. My legs do not want to cooperate. In fact, they feel like they’d prefer to crumble, depositing me on the floor, rather than help me “move forward.” “Commencing with gas release in 3…2…1…” The hissing of a hundred snakes fills my ears. I pull my shirt up to cover my mouth, bandit style, while willing my legs to unfreeze. Even the lingering scent of fear can’t mask the new cloying almond scent that is falling from the ceiling. My legs unlock and I run straight forward - at least I hope it’s straight - with one arm out in front, feeling for the handle of the door I remember being there. My t-shirt barrier is not doing me much good as I start to cough. Frantic, I feel for the long brass handle. My hand connects something cool. Success! In my haste, I yank so hard the door flies open, clocking me in the forehead. I think I see stars. Pretty twinkling stars. Could be from the lack of clean air, too. I enter the new room, slamming the door behind me before leaning against the wall and sucking back mouthfuls of clean air. Well, cleaner air anyhow. This room is equally dark. The wall feels cool and smooth to the touch, the floor slick. I’m scared to leave the safety of having my back flat against something. At least I know this way, nothing can sneak up behind me. If I wait, will the voice command me to move again? Will the gas leak under the door? This is some crazy shit, I can’t risk it. Pushing off, I take a couple of steps forward. I have no idea if there’s another door in here. Logic tells me there should be, but the black void gaping in front of me gives no hint on where it might be. I wonder how large the room is and what shape. There’s silence. My ragged breathing is the only sound I hear. It’s deafening. I wonder if I yell, would it give me an idea of the size of the room? Do I dare? I have no idea what to expect. Inhaling, I set myself up to scream, when I’m suddenly washed in blinding white light. It burns my eyes. Reflexively, I shut them, but moments later I sense I’ve been dunked into the dark again. Slowly, very slowly, I open one eye. When nothing happens, I open the other. What the hell was that light? Will it come back? I have to calm down. It’s just a light. Light can’t hurt me, right? Maybe I just need to run. Race through it all. If I can find a way out then I will be safe. Yes. That’ll have to work. Not giving myself time to think of the possible consequences, I race forward, hands out in front of me so I won’t break my nose face planting into a wall or other obstacle. My outstretched hands come in contact with something. Something…sticky. I try to stop, but momentum has got the best of me. My body makes contact with the substance and I’m stuck, fast. Oh God. Please tell me I am not stuck to what I think I am stuck to. From where it hits my body and what I feel with my captive hands, I can tell it’s an intricate working of silken strands that are coated with some tacky substance. All of a sudden, the light flashes, bright, again. I can’t close my eyes quick enough. A giant horrid shadow, seemingly several feet tall, is thrown against the dark wall quite a few feet in front of me. Holy crap. Whatever it is, it’s above me, and it’s moving. The ceiling must be pretty high because the thing looks to be a good six feet over my five foot eight frame. The room should be pretty wide as well to accommodate a web big enough for it. Maybe the shadow is just exaggerated. Light plays those kinds of tricks on a person, right? Struggling against my adhesive restraints, I tilt my head up as much as possible. Oooh, how I wish I hadn’t done that. Eight red eyes are looking down at me. I swear if I could hear its thoughts, it’d be thinking, “Mmmm dinner.” Shit. To say I really, really dislike spiders would be a gross understatement. To say I really, really dislike giant spiders would be the lie of the century. Panic overtakes me, mind and body. I am frantic to try to free myself from the web. My skin pulls painfully as I struggle to get away. The light goes off and once again I’m thrown into the darkness. I hear a sound like a puppy whimpering. Oh wait, that’s me. Must.Get.Free. My pulse is racing as if I was running a marathon. I glance up and sense the monstrous arachnid is making its way down to me. I don’t want to be this thing’s dinner! My struggling finally rewards me with a free arm and then a free leg. I brace myself against the slick floor and push off with all the energy I can muster. Huzzah! I fall to the floor, free of my gluey prison. Scooting back on my butt, I put some distance between me and the eight legged diner. My chest rises and falls in rapid succession and again I’m aware at just how loud my breathing sounds. My science knowledge fails me as I can’t remember whether or not spiders can see in the dark. Even if they can’t, my labored breathing is a dead giveaway. Ugh. Bad choice of words. The strobe-like light goes on again and I notice it reflect off of something on the other side of the web. Another door handle? It’s got to be. What else could it possibly be? My breathing slows a bit as my brain starts whirling in high speed trying to figure out a way to get to the door without getting caught up in the web again. There must be a way. The whole point is to get through this and survive. There’s got to be a trick to it. A loop hole. Something. I need that light to come back on. My eyes widen as I realize it has been coming on fairly frequently. Maybe it’s on a timer? I vow to count the seconds the next time it shines on. Thankfully, I don’t have long to wait. When it flashes back on, my eyes do a wild dance around the room, looking for a possible exit. They land on a space between the floor and the bottom of the web. My adrenaline is pumping. Is it big enough? Will I fit? Where’s the damn spider?! The light clicks off again before I can get a good idea of where my hairy and possibly poisonous friend is hanging out. Five seconds. That damn light only stays on for five freakin’ seconds. I feel like pulling my hair out. “Can’t you just work with me a little?” I yell at my invisible tormentors. I’m going to have to get close in order to slip under the web while the light is still on. As quietly as I can, I move back towards the sticky prison. One of my sneakers makes a god awful squeaking sound against the cement floor as if I was a basketball player on the court. I do my best imitation of a statue, hoping that even if the spider turned my way, it would be waiting for further confirmation on my position. I hold my breath until I feel a burning in my chest and then slowly release it; hoping spider hearing isn’t so sensational. The strobe light makes another appearance and I find myself face to face with the giant eight legged fiend. To say I screeched like a barn owl would be an insult to owls everywhere. It’s a sound I don’t think I’ve ever heard another human create. Before the light goes back off, in that very short five second window, I see the spider scamper back. It doesn’t like that sound? Can I do it again, without getting spider drool on me? If I can get it to move far enough away, I’ll have ample time to get under the web and make my way to the other door. Oh please, let this work. Lungs expand as I draw in the stale air. I feel a tickle in my throat. NO! Now is not the time for another coughing fit. You better listen to me, body. Act up now and I’ll be spider chow! For once, my biochemistry seems to be working in my favor and the tickle dissipates. Hoping I can recreate the cat in heat, baby wailing combo that the creature hates, I open my mouth and let loose. I keep it up for as long as I can before having to take another breath. As soon as I open my mouth for more ammo, the light flashes and I spy the spider in the far upper corner of the web. Success! Not knowing how quick it can move, I throw my body to the ground and start to roll, screaming at the same time. When I face the floor, the sound is significantly muffled, but hopefully when I come back around, it’ll be loud enough to keep the spider in retreat mode. Keeping my arms straight by my sides, I roll and roll. Suddenly I’m seeing stars as pain cuts my battle cry off, mid-scream. It feels like a chunk of hair has been pulled out. I guess that it got caught up in the sticky web and stayed there when I tried to move away. No time to cry over a bald spot now. Without the scream, the red eyed demon will be back looking for its meal. I stifle the tears and get back to rolling; knowing I’ve gotten past the web and the wall must be close. “ OW!” I’m obviously much closer to the wall than I thought since my head just attempted to dent it. I’m a bit dazed, thanks to concussing myself and the head wound, but I struggle to my feet, hands stroking the wall looking for the door. Oh thank God. There it is. Gripping the brass handle I pull, but remember to be cautious not to hit myself again, lord only knows how many head injuries I can take. Before I can step through, I hear a horrid scuttling sound. I glance over my shoulder just as the light comes back on and GAH! There is it, on the floor behind me. “Back! Back foul beast!” I kick a foot out and it…goes right through it? What the hell? No time to debate it now. It’s still coming at me. Must leave the room! I slip through the opening and slam the door behind me, holding onto the handle and leaning my weight back so it can’t pull the door open from the opposite side. Then it hits me…no thumbs. That stupid spider won’t be opening the door. I suppose it could break through…but then it won’t matter if I’m holding it or not. I release the handle and stumble back, unbalanced. Thankfully I catch myself before my ass hits the floor. God only knows what’s in this room and I need to stay on my feet until I figure it out at least. I turn around and put my hands out to the sides as if I playing airplane. I wiggle my fingers. Nothing but air. Pretending I am at the gym, I lean at the waist to my right. My fingers graze something. I splay them out and run my whole hand back and forth. Definitely a wall. Made of… Oww dammit! I pull my hand back. Something stuck me. I’m thinking it’s a splinter as the wall felt like wood. -Sigh- Can’t pull a splinter out in the dark. My earrings tickle my cheeks as I shake my head back and forth. I go ahead and lean the other way, repeating my earlier motions. I hit wall there as well, but I’m smart enough not to get another little wooden dagger in my hand. Great, so I’m in a narrow hall of some sort. I’m not typically claustrophobic, but the idea of being in the dark in such a small space is causing me some major anxiety. I shake my head, more violently this time, to dispel my nerves. A shiver creeps up my back and shoulders. I escaped cyanide gas and a giant hungry spider. I can handle some close quarters. I just need to push on. The exit can’t be much further, right? Stepping forward, the ground seems…soft-ish beneath my foot. I hear a very distinctive clicking sound and a warm glow appears. A freaking torch on the wall has “magically” lit. Really? A torch? Have I been transported back to stupid Medieval times or something? It creates a dancing yellowish circle around it, casting some incredibly eerie shadows as something makes it move. A breeze? I don’t feel it, but the idea of it gives me hope that there’s a definite opening at the end of this hallway. An exit maybe. I guess I should make like the olden days and take the torch with me. I reach up and put my hand on the base. It unexpectedly falls into my open hand and I have to hurry to catch it and not burn the crap out of myself. What the hell?! Once safely contained, I raise it to get a better look at what was holding it to the wall. It’s a hand! A freaking hand that opened up! That cannot be real. It must just be some animatronic kind of thing. With a shaking finger, I poke the now open palm. Before I can blink, it closes in and has a death grip around my finger. “ Let go!!” I pull back with all my might and in the same swift gesture, it releases me. I fly back, dropping the stupid torch at the same time. I hit the wall behind me hard with my head and hear the sound of breaking glass. Oh, that’s fabulous. Just what I need, seven years bad luck. I really don’t need even seven seconds more. I tentatively touch the back of my head. No warm gushing liquid. That’s a plus. Looking down, I see the torch is still lit and not burning the joint down. Yet another plus. I bend and pick it up, careful not to cause myself anymore damage. I hold it up to the wall I hit and I see several slivers of myself looking back at me. I sigh again. Maybe the bad luck won’t hit until I leave this place. Better get a move on. The torch doesn’t throw out much light, so I can only see a few feet in front of me. The walls are lined with identical mirrors and I flinch every time I pass one and catch a glimpse of myself. I’m waiting for the moment went it’s not me but someone else standing there. I’ve seen those old Scooby Doo episodes. I know how it works. Once again, the only sound to be heard is my own breathing and the occasional addition of the crackling torch. Even my steps don’t resonate. I wonder what exactly I’m walking on, but don’t want to risk leaning over to find out. Due to all the silence, I notice immediately when a new sound enters the orchestra. I slow down and stop completely, ears perked up. It’s a scrapping type sound, as if something’s being dragged. There’s a loud clink when whatever it is hits ones of the mirror frames and then a sound reminiscent to nails on a chalkboard as it goes over the glass surface itself. I cringe and scrunch my neck down, tilting my head to try to block out the sound with a shoulder. Another new sound drifts towards me. Holy crap, is that…whistling? Oh God, it’s a person. Some other person is in this long skinny hallway with me and it’s dragging something ominous against the wall, heading my way. The whistling and scrapping gets louder as the person gets closer. My stomach drops as I suddenly recognize the tune. Send in the Clowns. Oh holy mother of God. Please tell me I am not stuck in the dark with a creep-tastic deranged clown. I’d rather be eaten by the spider! I cannot stand around and wait to find out. Since I don’t see any other light source, I’ve got to guess it’s moving in the dark. I’m sure it can see mine though. Do I ditch it? If I throw it away, killer clown won’t know my locale, but that also means fumbling my way towards the exit and tripping over God only knows what else. “OOOh Anna! You should see the fun toy I have for you. Teehee!” Hole. Lee. Crap. It knows my name. How the hell does it know my name? I break out in a cold sweat, the injection site on the back of my neck suddenly stings from the salty substance. “Coooome on Anna. Don’t you want to plaaaaay with me?” Its voice has gone from cheery happy clown to menacing horror movie serial killer, the pitch dipping and speed slowing like a toy with a dying battery. “No,” my tiny voice squeaks out before I can stop myself. I slap my free hand over my traitorous mouth. There’s a long drawn out beat of silence. “That’ssss a sssshame, Anna. I sssso want to play with you.” Now it sounds like a snake? Visions of a clown with a long forked tongue almost brings me to my knees. I’m back pedaling now, scared to turn around and have it come up behind me. My pulse is pounding hard in my throat, making it difficult to breathe. “Poor Anna. Are you sssscared? I can almost tasssste your fear. MMmmm. Delicioussss.” I trip over my own feet and fall into one of the side walls where I feel something clamp down on my free arm. Looking down I see a row of those animatronic hands on the wall, one is gripping onto me tightly. “Nononononono,” I chant under my breath, struggling to pull away. This thing has an iron-like hold on me. I’d have to drop the torch to pry the fingers up. I feel a sharp pain in my head, my poor head, as one of them grabs a handful of my long hair. DAMMIT! “Pleeease. Let me go!” “Tsssk. Tsssk. Did you get ssssstuck? Let me help.” Evil clown thing is close. So close. It must be right outside the reach of my torch light. I’m not sure when exactly the water works started, but tears are making my vision all blurry. I sniffle loudly. Stuffy nose and heart in throat are significantly cutting off my air. I gasp when I spy a comically long candy cane looking arm stretching into my circle of light. The fingers are splayed out and tipped with some crazy nails that are filed to dangerous looking sharp points. Instinctively I back away, only to have more sets of hands grab at my clothes, hair and ankles. I cry out as they pull and pinch. The clown’s face stays, thankfully, in the shadows, but the arm continues to grow. My breath comes in fits and bursts and blood is playing a rapid drum beat in my head. I’m going to die. I’m so going to die here. I feel a warmth travel down my pant leg. Oh God, now I peed myself. The nails reach my chest and I moan as I feel the sharp points through my thin shirt. I wave the torch in the hopes of scaring it away or burning the arm, but it seems oblivious to the fire. The ripping sound is loud and the pain sharp as the nails trek down my chest to my stomach. I feel liquid warmth following the trail that has been made. The arm with the torch drops and I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to see the end. “Simulation to end in 5…4…3…2…1.” The creepy electronic voice is back and behind my closed lids I sense that a light has come on. I open my eyes and have to shield them from the sudden bright light. I find myself in an empty white hallway. No mirrors, no disembodied hands, no killer clown. Looking down, I see my shirt is not in tatters. I pull it away from my body and look down. Nope, no bloody red nail marks either. “Please proceed to the exit,” the voice commands me. I turn my head and see a glaringly bright red neon exit sign. Bewildered, I head to it and slowly open the door and peek out. I’m greeted by the cheering sounds of my friends. “Yay! You made it!” “Haha, Anna! You look like hell. Amazing how real those simulations are, right?” “Ew…did you pee your pants?” The heavy arm of my boyfriend appears around my shoulders. “Fear, one hell of a drug, huh? I knew you’d make it through. You’re strong, unlike some of my other exes. Shame what happened to them…,” he whispers in my ear, the implications of his words make my knees shake. “Want another go round? I’ve got my Black card, let me treat you again.” His nose rubs my neck as he inhales loudly. “Mmm, you smell amazing. Fear’s a great high and an aphrodisiac. We could always go to the back of my car first…” Eyes wide, I shake my head hysterically while scratching at the back of my neck. “Get it out. Get the damn chip out!” His arm drops. “Chill, babe. None of it was real. Just an adrenaline rush. No need to freak. They’ll remove the sensor chip…unless you want to go again? It wasn’t so bad, right?” I feel myself sway, the edges of my vision going black. “Not…so…bad?” My last fleeting thought as the darkness closes in is that perhaps our definitions of bad greatly differ.