He walked to the door not realizing he was about to die. He should have known, though. The door was locked. The janitor always unlocked the door in the morning for him.15 years and the janitor never forgot. What was going on? He tried the door knob again. Locked. He heard a scuffling sound and then a muffled bark of laughter and what sounded like a yelp of pain. Two kids, perhaps, groping each other. He smiled at the thought, remembering what it was like to be a teen again. Another giggle, this time much louder, sounding very sinister. He reached into his pocket for his keys. He was unnerved by the laughter, but his composure remained. It was just some randy students, he told himself again. He had been through worse many times before. He heard soft metallic clicks within as he brought the room key to the keyhole. He froze. That sound was familiar to him. As familiar as own family. Bullets being loaded into a magazine. Not here, not now! This was NOT happening! Not at my school. If he had known what was really going on on the other side of the door, he would have run right then and forgotten all that he had heard. But he was a scientist at heart and by profession. Curiosity came with the territory, and fear never stopped him from investigating. He grabbed his keys from his pocket. As his fingers worked to find the right key, he looked at the doorknob and became more confused by the situation. Where a keyhole is supposed to be was instead a smooth sphere. He looked left and then right and then up at the room placard. In place of numbers was "BANGFUCKIMDEAD". Now he KNEW someone was fucking with him. He banged on the door and turned the doorknob again. There was a loud dry sucking sound, like someone sucking on the straw of an empty glass of soda trying to get those last few drops. And like someone flicking a light switch, he was inside his classroom.The light was blinding but he could make out the shapes of the dissection tables and his desk as well as something he couldn't quite make out. He heard a low, slow laugh as the light began to dim. As his eyes adjusted to the changing light, the shape before him began to come into focus. There was a sack laying next to the form, that's what he was able to make out first. as the form became clearer, the less sense things seemed to make. Guns and bullets, hundreds of them. But they weren't stacked or piled, they were collected into a humanoid shape. Its shape was not stationary. Assault rifles, hand guns, shotguns, and bullets all moved constantly. In and out, up and down, left and right. It was like a hunter's wet dream of a puzzle box. A gun near its foot inched out and poked the sack next to the gun-beast. A soft whimper from the sack, and he realized the janitor was inside. The gun-beast laughed again and moved a leg-full of ballistics towards him. He shied back against the door. He needed to escape this thing, but he couldn't leave the janitor behind. He looked around the room for some sort of defense. That was when he saw that the room wasn't his room. Everything was in its place, but nothing was as it should be. It was as if someone had melted everything just enough so that it would attach to one another to make one giant piece. He looked back at the sack. was he really willing to risk his life for another in the face of such madness? He didn't know what was going on or what any of it meant. The only possible means of escape was the door behind him. The gun-beast took another step toward him. He turned around and grasped the doorknob. The knob melted at his touch. Tendrils of ice cold liquid metal flowed onto his hand trapping him.For a few brief moments there was some give with the metal, but soon the metal had solidified. The metal had gotten up to his elbow. He was now one with everything else in the hellish room. He screamed as loud as he could. He screamed, his throat becoming rawer by the moment. He jerked his body, trying to free himself. The gunbeast laughed again, and this time it did not stop laughing. It reached a hand out, bullets of fingers. He reached to his hip and drew a gun of his own, a last ditch effort. He pulled the trigger rapidly as his screaming intensified, flecks of blood flying out of his mouth along with the spittle. He could see they weren't doing anything to slow the gunbeast. He put his gun to his temple and pulled the trigger. The gun fired on an empty space. The gunbeast closed its hand around his neck and squeezed. And then, darkness...
THE END
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