Chapter 44: Maxwell
Ryan glanced at Morgan, receiving a nod from the man in response. They certainly couldn’t turn back now.
He took a deep breath, then stepped forward into the spaces between the corpses, careful not to slip on the blood. Morgan followed closely after, nearly tripping on a corpse as he did. He caught himself with an inaudible groan.
Then came Miles’s turn. He felt the stickiness of the drying blood beneath his shoes. The smell of rot grew even stronger here.
None of it would be enough to stop him. He made his way slowly, wary of tripping on anything, be it utensil or corpse.
Right as he was about to reach Ryan at the storage entrance, he noticed a lusterless kitchen knife resting on top of a nearby table.
He only needed to glance once at his bloodied, dented bat before picking up the blade and easily slipping it into his pockets.
Two more steps from there brought him to Morgan and Ryan. Ryan gave him weird looks but chose in the end not to ask.
Behind him, the rest entered the room, moving forward silently after processing their shock. They couldn’t say anything under the principal’s rules, but their faces were enough to give away their fright.
With the last members, Sarah and her remaining friends, making it to the door, Morgan gave Ryan a grimacing go-ahead.
The boy silently curled his hand around the door’s handle, slowly twisting it, then pushing against it with his weight.
Nothing.
He shook it vainly for a bit before releasing it.
The door was locked.
Ryan frowned. He looked back to Morgan, opening his mouth, only to freeze.
Footsteps sounded behind the door, seeping out through the gaps in its hinges. They rapidly approached the door, audible due to this room having a much smaller entry point for the wind.
The class rep removed his hands from the handle, keeping silent as the footsteps came to a stop, right on the otherside of the door.
Mechanical clicks sounded from behind door. Then the handle twisted on its own, slowly pulling the door open from the other side.
Behind it stood a boy with a bloodied face. Miles would’ve recognized that build, that short straight hair, and that awfully familiar face anywhere.
Jayce.
The boy’s eyes widened as he saw Miles.
"M-"
He stopped himself before he could even start that sentence, remembering the principal’s rules. Still, there’d been a mix of surprise and relief in his tone.
Miles wished he could do the same. There was relief in seeing his only ’friend’ safe, yet it was overpowered by the even greater anxiety bubbling in his gut.
Before anyone could ask him anything, the boy stopped them with a raised hand. He glanced back, deeper into the storeroom. Then looked back at them before closing it again.
It didn’t seem as though he locked it this time though, shutting down any fears he was abandoning them.
They waited for a few more seconds in the cold before the boy came back. Opening the doors once again, he ushered them inside.
Ryan didn’t move immediately. He stared at Jayce’s blood-stained hands and face intensely before giving Morgan a discreet look.
The man nodded almost absentmindedly, looking more focused on suppressing the pain from his body than anything else.
With that, Ryan took the first step into the room. Morgan was next, and Miles after.
The moment he stepped in, the coppery scent of blood grew even stronger. It wasn’t fresh.
While it barely stirred a reaction in him, he could hear the others choking and swallowing dryly as they entered behind him. They didn’t dare actually cough.
From up high, some emergency lights shone down illuminating the otherwise dark room. They were much stronger than those in the hallway.
They’re lights reflected dully of the blood-stained floors.
The room was a mess.
Cartons, boxes, and crates stacked upon each other, with sacks of grain resting against them, took up most of the space.
Half-finished furniture and stacked glass panes took up what remained.
It was windowless, just like the gym. Vents attached to the roof emitted faint hums, blowing in drafts of stale, musty air. They couldn’t get rid of the bloody smell.
With a click, Jayce locked the door behind them right as the last of the group filed in.
The roar of the storm outside dampened instantly, making the hums from the ventilator even more audible.
Given the way Jaycee wasn’t walking carefully, and didn’t faint walking across the storeroom, Miles considered it safe to say the illusion had no influence here.
The room was large enough that even with all ten of them clustered by the door, it didn’t feel too cramped.
Jayce passed through them, silently squeezing Miles’s shoulder, before heading to the back of the room.
Three people sat on the crates there; four now, including Jayce.
They all had some blood on them.
To their side, a dark, vending machine-like object stood.
’The pylon?’
The moment he had that thought, a notification popped up in his vision.
[Congratulations. You have found a Pylon.]
[Please access it by placing your hand against it.]
Miles blinked it away, to find Jayce whispering something into the ear of one of the boys there.
A blond with dark eyes.
Miles recognized him. How could he not? He was basically the most popular kid in the first year, even extending his fame to the second and third years.
Maxwell.
An athlete, and from what Miles could tell, Grimm’s most dedicated tormentor.
’What’s Jayce doing with him?’
The boy stared darkly at them, his gaze lingering mainly on Grimm and the rifle hanging in his hand.
Even in his exhausted state, Grimm returned the look with a more vicious, poisonous glare.
Glancing at Jayce once more, the boy stood up and walked towards them. Jayce and a muscular, dark-haired boy followed.
The last among them, a pale, brown-haired girl, stayed behind.
Maxwell stopped a small distance from Ryan, keeping a blood-stained crate of canned beans between them.
Then he spoke in a low, dismissive voice.
"You all look like shit."