Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#031Reader Mode

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#031

In moments like this, words often fall short, and a silent understanding binds everyone together. Seojun, who wasn’t exactly close with anyone in the group, could still feel the heavy air of hopelessness around them.

Christina, with tears streaming down her face, closed her eyes, overwhelmed by despair.

“We’re done for.” she whispered.

It was like she opened the floodgates. Airi suddenly lost it, yanking at her hair like she was trying to pull out the frustration. Strands of her glossy brown hair floated eerily to the floor of the barely furnished room.

“Ahh! There’s no God in this world! Why us? It’s not like we did hit-and-runs, or let kids drown while babysitting at camp, or messed with creepy Latin books. We haven’t even babysat! Why us?!”

Airi, once the faithful type, now sounded like she was done with believing in anything. Seojun, trying to lighten the mood, asked a bit cautiously.

“Uh, any family drama? Like your mom being wrongly accused of an affair?”

“Just so you know, it’s just me and my dad. Single-parent home, okay?”

Seojun was about to ask if she was adopted with a brother who turned out to be a serial killer, but he held back, seeing how Airi was really not in the mood. He glanced her way while looking around the room.

The situation was bleak. The monster could appear at any moment, Gas Mask had left a chilling ‘I’ll be there soon’ message, and they were cut off from the outside world.

“……”

Seojun bit the inside of his cheek. Even the slightest movement made the corners of his lips sting, but minor pains were the least of his worries now.

Golden, clearly annoyed, slammed down the useless phone.

“What’s with this idiot making a fuss?”

“Shh! Do you want Gas Mask to hear you?”

“Cowards,” Golden scoffed, spitting on the floor and surveying the room with a defiant glare. Seojun knew that look all too well, having been on the receiving end of Golden’s temper before. It was an expression anyone could recognize.

“Why are you all so scared of this guy? He’s not that rotten squid-like monster! If we all jump him, what can he do?”

Golden, who hadn’t seen Gas Mask or heard the whole story, didn’t get why everyone else was so freaked out. But Johan didn’t snap at Golden’s taunts. He just smiled.

“Golden, you mentioned Brass was the one who shot the crossbow, right?”

“Why are you bringing that up now?”

As they spoke, dust from the room’s long neglect filled their lungs. Golden, trying to match Johan’s height, puffed out his chest and craned his neck, not wanting to seem smaller than Johan, who towered over him.

Under the dim lighting, Johan’s blue eyes flickered, creating a misty appearance. Seojun felt something strange stir within him as he saw Johan lean in, his gaze fixed on Golden.

“Golden, ever thought about using your head for something besides getting high?”

Johan’s voice was deep, but there was no edge to it. He seemed calm, almost serene. But does a soft voice always mean a person is gentle?

“What? You looking for trouble?”

Golden wasn’t too far gone to miss the insult. He lunged at Johan, grabbing his collar. That was as far as he got, though. Johan, even with his collar seized, stood his ground, even managing a smile as he peeled off Golden’s fingers one by one.

“We shouldn’t be fighting each other right now. Brass is the kind of scumbag who’d shoot a crossbow at people without a second thought, and Gas Mask easily took that weapon from such trash.”

It was uncertain whether Golden fully grasped this belated explanation. But it did seem to snap Christina out of her daze. She suddenly stood up and spoke with determination.

“Johan’s right. Arguing among ourselves solves nothing. Let’s move downstairs. Staying here is too risky.”

She was probably thinking of William, who could barely walk. It seemed like a strategic move, considering the first floor might be safer than the third, especially if Gas Mask decided to make a move. Seojun trailed behind Christina, binoculars now dangling around his neck.

William’s face turned grave after hearing about the situation downstairs, his features molding into a mask of determined stoicism. After a moment, he spoke, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil.

“I’ll be the bait.”

“Willy!”

Airi’s cry was soft as she grabbed William’s cheeks. His squished expression looked somewhat comical, but no one laughed. Meeting Airi’s gaze, he said firmly,

“Airi, get out of here while I distract Gas Mask.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Willy! How can I leave you behind?!”

William gave a bitter smile at Airi’s protest. He gestured to his injured leg, his eyes sweeping over the group. Seojun understood without words. William was saying he couldn’t even walk properly, let alone run.

The idea of outrunning Gas Mask, especially while helping William with his injured leg, seemed like a long shot. William knew it, and Seojun couldn’t help but agree. But Airi? She wasn’t having any of it.

“What if you end up like Bobby? Bait?! Oh, my God! Don’t even say such a horrible thing, William!”

Tears streamed down her face as she clung to William, her nose running. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, Airi’s tears stopped. She straightened up, her movements almost robotic as she turned to look at the injured soldier with a cold, calculating gaze.

“If we’re going to use someone as bait, let’s use that man.”

Her eyes were hard as she glared at the dying soldier, teeth gritted. If it hadn’t been for this crazy soldier, they’d have been long gone. But Johan was quick to shoot down the idea.

“That’s too obvious. The guy’s a mess, and he’s barely even breathing. Plus, his blood-soaked military clothes are a dead giveaway. It might catch Gas Mask off guard for a second, but that’s about it. We need something more cunning and vicious to really throw him off.”

The soldier, barely alive and immobile, wouldn’t hold Gas Mask’s attention for long. Airi opened and closed her mouth, struggling for words, then finally looked down, defeated.

“But using Willy as bait…”

“I’m okay with it, Airi. If it means you’re safe, Airi, I’d do anything,” William said, his voice calm and sure.

“Oh, Willy!”

“Come here, Airi.”

As they embraced again, Christina cautiously brought up a new idea as she pointed to the gun.

“Why don’t we use this gun? I know I said we should avoid risks earlier, but things are different now. Danger is coming to us. Seojun, you said you know how to handle a gun, right?”

In Christina’s eyes, fear mingled with hope and determination as she looked expectantly at Seojun. He wanted to be the hero she was looking for, to make this nightmare end just by following her lead. He really wished he could.

“Um, Christina…”

“Yes?”

“I need to tell you something about the gun. There’s good news, bad news, and even worse.”

As Seojun spoke, everyone, including William and Airi in their own little world and Johan checking to see if the soldier was still alive, stopped to listen. Johan looked over with a worried frown.

“Jun, isn’t it usually just good news and bad news?”

“Johan, let’s face it, we’re not exactly swimming in options here. It’s a miracle we even have a bit of good news.”

As Seojun and Johan exchanged these words, Christina joined in, her voice holding a sliver of hope.

“So, what’s the good news, Seojun?”

“We’ve got bullets.”

A flicker of relief sparked in Christina’s eyes, her lips curving into a weary smile. She braced herself for more.

“And the bad news? Please don’t say the gun’s busted.”

“No, the gun’s working. It’s just… we’ve only got a single bullet left.”

“…….”

A shadow fell over Christina’s face, her lips twitching with dismay. The soldier had squandered the bullets on threats and mindless shooting William, and a thorough search of his pockets had come up empty.

Johan, who’d been poking the barely-conscious soldier with a stick, stood up and brushed off his knees.

“And the worst news?”

Seojun, who’d been eyeing the blood oozing from the soldier’s side, looked up. His gaze swept over Johan, Christina, Airi, William, and finally rested on Golden.

“That bullet? It’s useless against the monster.”

“Ah…”

Airi let out a soft sigh, the haunting memory of her narrow escape from the monster, which had nearly snapped her in half, flashing through her mind.

A suffocating silence fell over the group, the monster’s looming threat once again at the forefront of their minds.

Seojun hesitated to burden Christina with more worries. He knew cryptic warnings like ‘’We’re a candle in a storm, and there’s more than one wind howling” wouldn’t help. They were already stressed enough with Gas Mask.

But they needed to understand. It wasn’t just Gas Mask they had to worry about. Surviving in Camp Hamon meant facing more than one enemy. Seojun was sure of it. They were up against foes that would keep coming back until Christina and her friends could kill them.

“Ah, right.”

Johan, breaking his silence, gave Seojun an awkward wink and pulled him closer.

“We need to use everything at our disposal to make it through. Let’s turn this crisis into our chance, alright?”

His voice was too cheerful for the grim situation they were in.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Outside the weathered dorm, footsteps crunched on grass poking through the muddy earth. Gas Mask idly twirled the Hamon knife in his hand, its blade – already stained with the blood of several humans today – gleamed ominously in the dim moonlight.

He didn’t need any other weapons. He also didn’t fancy things like crossbows. Scaring his prey into running was enjoyable, but what he really loved was the feel of slicing through skin and flesh, not the impersonal act of shooting from afar.

His thoughts drifted to a striking image – a pretty girl with pale skin and golden hair that shimmered like sunlight. The idea of twirling her glossy locks around his fingers before slicing through her neck sent a shiver of excitement through him.

With each step, he savored the pain, letting it stoke the fires of his anticipation.

The old dormitory, a three-story relic, had seen better days. Ever since the Hannah O’ Lantern incident, it had been left to wither, now more a skeleton of a building than anything else. The only thing that seemed to work was the telephone. His lips twitched under his gas mask.

Stepping into the first floor, he found it deserted, save for fresh bloodstains on the floor. He nudged one with his boot, noting its relative freshness.

The second floor was just as empty. The barren rooms, stripped of any furniture, offered no real places to hide.

Ascending to the third floor, he felt a surge of anticipation. His trench coat swirled around him as a chill breeze snuck in through an open window, blowing through the messy room. The rattling of the window frame was particularly annoying. Adjusting his gas mask, he moved towards the window.

Then, a sound caught his attention. A large pile of straw lay in a corner, left in disarray as if forgotten. A tiny movement within the straw betrayed someone’s presence…

His sense of smell was dulled by the gas mask, but his other senses were razor-sharp. He sensed someone hiding there. Excitement coursed through his veins. He stepped closer, the straw rustling softly under his feet.

“Uh, ah… heh…”

The figure in the straw was barely clinging to life – a soldier, bloodied and battered, his skin a mess of burns and bruises. A gag cloth filled his mouth, his limbs were bound and his eyes blindfolded. All he could manage were feeble moans, his mouth a mix of saliva and blood.

Gas Mask hesitated, lowering the Hamon knife he had instinctively raised. The futile struggles of his pigs always exhilarated him.

Then, a glint in the knife’s reflection caught his eye.

Was it a mere coincidence? His gaze zeroed in on a wardrobe reflected in the blade. Its door hung slightly open, and through the crack, a strand of hair shimmered in the dim light, like a sliver of moonlight.

Pretending to lose interest, he glanced away, but his attention remained fixed on the wardrobe. The room, with its sparse furnishings, left little else to investigate. He strolled towards the wardrobe nonchalantly, feigning indifference. With each step, his anticipation mounted, entertained by the thought of another pig trembling inside the wardrobe.

Gas Mask couldn’t hide his excitement anymore, his steps turning into a thunderous charge towards the wardrobe. With a burst of force, he flung the fragile door aside, watching it crash to the floor. Inside, nestled among a mess of cloth, was a cascade of glistening hair. He reached in, a victorious roar escaping his lips, and yanked at the hair. But the prize in his grasp was not what he expected.

Instead of eyes staring back at him, there were only clumps of straw, and more straw seemed to pour out from where a mouth should be. It was freakishly light, almost as if it was just a shell – a human skin stuffed with straw, missing its internal organs.

Gas Mask found himself staring directly at the hollowed husk of Richard Silver, a scarecrow of sorts, mocking him with its empty gaze.