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gjnhjfdhns: Part SIXTEEN: A Safe Haven?

The room was huge, and filled with long tables. The walls, ceiling and floor were spotlessly white, a complete change from the bloody rooms behind us. At the far end of the room was a buffet table as long as the room was, and it was stocked with tons of delicious looking foods.

Normally, the thought of eating food in such a place after such a horrible sight would've never crossed our minds, but, aside from the few chips and sodas in the teachers' lounge, we hadn't eaten since before leaving my house- And that was, it seemed, years ago.

We made a break for the buffet table, and stocked our plates with as much as they could take. It seemed like all our favourite foods were there, from french fries to brownies to curry to hamburgers... More than enough food to completely satisfy each of us.

"Aw, man," Marcello gleefully exclaimed between bites, "it's like heaven!"

Ale grinned, nodding happily. "These are my favourites! All my favourites!"

Marina gulped down half a cappuccino, while Mitchell took his second bite of his burger. Kevin sipped idly at a Coke. Angel just stared at the food- She was probably still getting over the bloodied lobby we had come from.

After my first few french fries, I began to think logically again. "This is..."

I stopped myself. Why halt everyone else's enjoyment with my own confused thoughts?

What was going on? Was someone doing this to us? If they were, than isn't all this food a trap? I lowered the fry I was about to eat. If it was a trap, what kind of trap was it? Poison? Looking around, I didn't see anybody show any signs of illness. Maybe the food was alright... Maybe, maybe whatever was doing this to us wanted us in tip-top shape for its sick game of cat-and-mouse.

Or maybe there was nothing after us at all. Maybe everything that happened was just us being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and all this good stuff was just... Like a save point. Or those little healing items you find in video games.

But this wasn't a video game.

I began to feel sick. "This is," I said, louder than before, "too good to be true. Especially in a place like /this/."

Everyone looked at me. "Don't be so paranoid," Marcello shrugged, "it doesn't taste like poison or anything."

"Yea, hospital food doesn't suck that much, Hazel." Mitchell took another bite, but this one was noticably slower, and it was only his third.

"She's right." Now everyone's head turned to Angel, who sat across from me, looking blankly at a wall. "This... This is wrong." She looked at us now, face contorted with worry and confusion. "The lobby, the whole hospital... Why is this the only room we've found that is completely clean? And just happens to have all of our favourite foods?"

"Maybe the cleanliness of it means that it's safe," Marina suggested.

"Untainted." I stared at my plate, most of it left untouched. "But /'looks can be deceiving'/, and all those other cliches. This just isn't right. Besides, didn't it seem like we were led here?"

"We weren't following anything," Marcello pointed out, "so what do you mean?"

"The hall."

"Hm?"

"The... Hall..." Angel almost jumped up with realization striking her. "It stopped only when we all stopped! And there were no side doors or extra halls or anything! It ended with this door!" She pointed to the door we had come in from.

"Holy crap..." Mitchell threw down his burger, the patty flying out and smearing condiments onto the ivory white tiles. "It's a trap!"

Everyone blinked at him, not having tasted anything strange.

He looked, bewildered, at the lot of us. "Now you're telling me you can't taste it?! It tastes like... Like...!" He grit his teeth, looked at the fallen burger, and picked up the patty. He waved it at us like some kind of diseased flag. "You can't see this?!"

"See /what/?" Marina demanded. "The burger?"

Mitchell dropped the circle of meat, his hand slapping over his ear. He turned away from us, leaving us all slightly stunned.

"As a matter of fact," Marcello said, breaking the short-lived silence, "this chicken finger tastes kinda funny..." He stuck his thumb and index finger in his mouth, fishing around for the offending piece of food, pulling out a finger.

A /finger/.

Pale and dead looking, with a cracked, yellowing nail, peeling grey skin, and the severed, frayed ends of what looked like dried up veins.

All coated with the saliva of someone who was about to digest the thing.