Page 25 of Faith Among Monsters

I clamber onto the bed, my movements jerky and rushed, and pull the knife free again. My hands shake as I work at the screws on the vent cover. They’re tight, and my fingers slip against the slick metal. Another pound on the door.

The wood splinters.

I bite back a curse, my breath coming faster as I twist the last screw free. The vent cover drops to the bed with a dull clatter.

I grab the edges of the vent, testing it with a pull-up. My arms tremble with the effort, and my grip slips slightly. I’m Not strong enough to pull myself up completely.

“Shit,” I hiss.

The door gives a loud crack, splitting down the center.

I jump off the bed, grabbing the chair and hauling it onto the mattress.

This is insane.

The chair wobbles under me as I climb up, the legs sinking unevenly into the soft mattress. My balance shifts dangerously, but I don’t have time to adjust. I stretch, gripping the edges of the vent, and haul myself up with every ounce of strength I haveleft. My arms burn, screaming in protest as I wiggle backward into the tight space.

The vent creaks under my weight, the thin metal groaning as I inch farther inside.

Then the door splinters completely, a loud crash splitting the air.

I freeze, peering down through the opening.

The top half of a man leans into the room, his body jerking and twitching as he claws his way through the broken frame.

My stomach drops. He’s snarling, blood and drool foaming from his mouth, his lips pulled back over jagged teeth. His skin is pale and waxy, his eyes wild and bloodshot.

What the hell is he on?

I swallow hard, watching in horror as he drags himself farther into the room, his hands scrabbling against the bedframe.

“Stop!” I shout, my voice breaking. My therapist training kicks in, even though every instinct screams that this isn’t a man I can reason with. “You don’t have to do this!”

The thing jerks its head up, its wild eyes locking on me. For a moment, it seems to hesitate, its bloody fingers curling around the mattress.

“Stop,” I say again, my voice softer this time. “Just stop.”

But it doesn’t stop. It snarls, lunging for the bed with unnatural strength, its hands slamming against the vent opening.

I let out a cry, scrambling back as fast as I can. The tight space presses in around me, the edges of the vent cutting into my arms and legs as I shove myself farther inside.

The vent creaks again, louder this time, and I glance back, panic clawing at my chest.

He’s still there, clawing at the opening, his bloodied hands reaching for me.

I crawl faster, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts.Keep moving. Don’t stop. Just keep moving.

Every inch I manage to move forward, my anger burns hotter.

This has to be linked to the program. Whatever they’re testing on these men, this is the result. How could anyone think this was acceptable? My jaw tightens as I crawl, the confined space amplifying the sound of my breathing.

The vent vibrates beneath me, the thing still pounding below. I can feel every impact rattling through the thin metal. Whatever he’s on has turned him into a relentless killing machine.

Ahead, I spot a vent cover above me.

Small miracles.

I roll onto my back in the cramped space, my shoulders pressing into the narrow sides as I lift my legs. The position is awkward, and my chest tightens as the vent seems to close in around me.

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