Page 7 of Merciless

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~Dealer~

THAT SMELL.

What the hell is it? I know I’ve smelled it before, but I can’t seem to place it.

It’s dark all around. I can barely see a thing.

Damp, too.

Scenting the air, the acrid smell has me cringing.

I strain through the dark to figure out my surroundings.

Walls. Stone walls. Surrounding me. They’re dripping wet. Water’s running down them into… whatever the hell I’m standing in.

Some sort of well? A pit?

I bring my hands up to the wall, searching for some kind of grips to figure out if I can climb the damn thing. I dig my fingers into the cement between the stones and lift a leg up, ready to vault up. The second I try it, I slip and crash down hard onto the unstable ground beneath my boots.

What am I standing in?

I move my feet around, trying to feel it out, hearing some odd cracks and squelching.

I draw in a breath and crouch down, squinting to get a better look.

My gut twists, bile rising in my throat when the realization sets in.

I should’ve placed it. That sick stench.

Rotting flesh.

I’m standing in a pile of rotting bodies. Dead bodies piled beneath my feet.

Bolting for the wall again, I claw at it wildly. Gotta get out!

It takes me a minute to realize that I’m yelling out like a deranged maniac, asking for help. First time for everything. But, hell, it’s called for right about now. This shit is messed.

When nobody answers, I step back, scrubbing my hand over my face, as I try to figure out some kind of plan to extract my ass.

A bitter coppery taste hits my tongue as I try to wipe my wet face.

Blood!

It’s blood that’s dripping down the walls, not just dirty water, as I’d thought.

The second I realize it, the stuff starts gushing in, filling up the pit quick.

It’s up to my knees in seconds.

A shadow falls over the opening above and I look up to see some faceless figure peering down. “This is your mess, killer,” it calls. “The death you’ve dealt.”

He disappears as quick as he came.

And then the worst starts.

Bodies.

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