NaNoWriMo, Part 6: And then he died ~half~

Today's word count: 2,140 words
Running total: 10,487 words
Summary: The gang is attacked during their special feature and they must deal with the aftermath.  There is a change to Chase's POV while Kenneth is mostly unconscious.

Also, things get sexy.

    Chase slowly pans over the group as Mr. Williams says our names.  We all say something to the affect of “Hi” and wave.  As Mr. Williams introduces Chase, the nerd holds the camera out at arm’s length, turns it towards him, and smiles.
    “With that out of the way, why don’t we head into the basement?”  Mr.  Williams smiles and descends the staircase.  We all follow as he flicks on a light switch.
    It’s quite a sight; it definitely doesn’t look like a typically haunted place.  You know, like when you think of somewhere haunted, you think of a ramshackle house with all the furniture covered with sheets or an empty prison or a dilapidated graveyard.  This rooms were empty and snaked everywhere, sure, but the walls were covered with brightly colored murals.  Some of the pictures were better than others, but the look was generally pleasing.  They seemed to illustrate various musicals and a few plays—Phantom of the Opera, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Grease, Les Miserables.  Within these murals were various names.  Stepping into the room made you feel like you were walking some sacred piece of history.  I walked over to one of these walls to inspect the mural more closely and listened to Mr. Williams in the background.
    “Now, we’re going to turn the lights off eventually—we are on a ghost hunt, after all!  It doesn’t feel right otherwise.  But first, I want you to see this.  From about 1960 to 1990, the school utilized these dressing rooms for the musical every year.  They eventually stopped because the ghost stories eventually spooked the students too much… then parents complained, and the principal decreed that no one shall ever use it again.  You like those paintings, Kenneth?”
    I turn around, startled.  I try to smile and laugh a little.  “Yeah…”
    Mr.  Williams walks towards the wall next to me, turning back to the camera to give more commentary.  “Every year, it was a project for the cast and crew to paint the wall in the theme of the musical.  From all the years, the paintings ended up covering the wall like this.  It’s like this everywhere down here.”  He sighed heavily.  “They stopped with this tradition after they stopped using the dressing rooms.  It’s a shame… moving on.”
    Mr. Williams taps me on the shoulder and hands me a flashlight.  Somehow we had completely overlooked bringing something like that.  I smile again and thank him for the flashlight.  “Don’t turn it on yet,” he tells me.
    He moves through the hallways with great skill, as if he has done this many times before.  He probably has.  Eventually he stops in front of a large filled with various small props.  “Brian, put your tape recorder here.  We have no idea where the ghost is, and we may not even see him tonight, so we’ll leave a recorder here overnight.  Just make sure it’s on.”
    “Right on, Williams.”  Brian complies.
    “And with that… back to the light switch!  We’re doing the rest of this in the dark.”  Our group clumsily maneuvers back through the narrow hallways to the stairwell.  Mr. Williams turns the lights off, and we are cloaked in darkness.  I turn the flashlight on.
    “Hey, Chase, am I good?”
    “…Good how?”
    “Can you see anything?  Is my flashlight pointing in the right direction?”
    Chase snickers.  It takes me a little while to realize that that could be taken as sexual innuendo.  Funny hadn’t imagined Chase as the kind of guy who would laugh at that.  Regardless, he replies, “Yeah, yeah, I can see Mr. Williams perfectly.  You’re good.”
    “We’ll cut that when we broadcast it,” Scarlett mumbles.  She’s obviously not happy about our banter, but I don’t really care.
    It seems like Mr. Williams wants to move on.  “…Right, then.  Are we ready?  I have a second tape recorder here, so we’ll listen to that when we all get back.  Maybe it’ll pick up other ghost sounds!
    “Now… let’s go to the scene of the crime.  The trapdoor under the stage.”  Mr. Williams grins, and in the darkness he almost looks like a mad scientist or a super villain.  We all follow him again, making careful note of how the path turns.  It’s suddenly a lot spookier down here.
    We make a sharp turn to the left and enter a small room.  As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I notice Chase making a slow pan around the room.  I follow the camera with the flashlight.  There’s a lot of stuff just lying around here: a step-ladder in one corner, a sheet of plastic wrapped in another sheet of plastic, various prop weapons, helmets.  It feels like the school had to abandon this room suddenly because of something.  I feel a tingling in my spine, but I don’t scream like you’re supposed to in that old movie.
    Chase once again focuses on Mr. Williams, and he gives more history.  “So, this is the famous trapdoor.  This was going to be a new addition in the new auditorium, and everyone was pretty excited about it, from everything I’ve heard or read.  It would be used to transport things or people in scenes where they need to vanish quickly.  But then… the accident happened.
    “Now, there’s two theories about how James Patterson.  A normal fall probably wouldn’t have been enough to break his neck.  See this rope here?”  He pulls on a thick rope attached to the trapdoor.  “This would have been used to hold the door down.  Now, it’s very possible that—“
    Chase screams and starts swearing.  The calmest among us try to ask him what’s wrong.  Brian starts yelling some other stuff about how we should all head for the exit, and I see Ashley actually follow his instructions.  I’m frozen in place, wildly looking around to see what the source of the problem is.
    Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my side.  I scream and fall to the floor.  I think someone’s yelling at me and shaking me, but at that point I feel the same excruciating pain in my back.  Let me put it this way:  I’ve been in a lot of situations where I’ve ended up hurt as a result of my bad luck.  I’ve broken bones, I’ve had huge ugly gashes, I even cracked my skull once.  The pain experiencing right now is like all the pain I’ve felt in my life combined and doubled.
    I can’t pay attention the people around me anymore.  I’m slipping.
    I feel cold.

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Scene IV
I Knew This Was a Bad Idea, but Does Anyone Listen to Me? Nooooo.  No One Ever Listens to the Nerd.  The Nerd Is Almost on the Same Plane of Social Status as the Hobo.
Chase

    Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
    Fuck.
    “Chase, run!”
    Fuck you.
    Well, I listen to him anyway.  I mean, I don’t really have a choice.  It’s hard to run, because I’m in more pain than I’ve ever been in my life.  I don’t know whose idea this was anymore, because ghosts certainly don’t exist.  But whoever hurt me is going to fucking pay when I get out of here.  I barely remember the camera.  Something grabs onto my arm and doesn’t let go when I shake it off.  Fuck, I’m going to die here, aren’t I?  Well, I just keep running.  Not like I have a choice.
    I reach the stairwell and scramble up as fast as I can.  I’m practically on all fours at this point.  Scratch that, I am on hands and knees as I prop myself up against a nearby wall, breathing hard.  I’m going to die.
    “Oh my God, Chase—“
    I turn.  It’s Scarlett.  She’s the one who grabbed onto my arm.  Normally this is something I’d be really happy about, but I can’t help but be angry with her right now.  Then I follow her eyes to the side in pain.  There’s four deep parallel gashes, and I’m bleeding pretty badly.  My ears are ringing.
    I want to turn over to Ashley, but I find I’m too weak.  She doesn’t say anything to me.  She’s either shaken beyond words or too ecstatic about seeing a fucking ghost or something.  Thanks a lot, Ashley.
    “Chase, Chase, are you all right?  Can you hear me?  Don’t close your eyes, Chase, okay?  Everything is going to be all right.”
    I must be fucking dreaming.  Scarlett isn’t treating me like the dirt on the bottom of her cute stiletto boots.  Now she’s—holy shit, is she really doing that?  Shit.  If I wasn’t bleeding to death, I’d be the happiness man in the world.  She’s really going to use her t-shirt as a tourniquet.  I’m too weak to say anything.
    “Chase, you’re going to be okay, all right?”  She’s really concerned for me.  Now she’s taking my jacket off.  She bunches up her t-shirt, covers my wound with it, then ties my jacket around my waist to hold the t-shirt in place.  She’s hugging me now.  If I die right now, I will die happy.
    I can’t help but notice that her bra is all lacy and Victoria’s Secret looking.  This is all really ridiculous.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m a very happy man right now.  I met Scarlette last year and although she can be a real bitch sometimes, I can’t deny that she’s really sexy.  I wouldn’t see her at all if I wasn’t in this goddamn club, and she’s the only reason I’m here.  I take the stupid stories we do.  I take the torturing I get from Dean.  I take being around Brian and Ashley, even if they’ve wronged me to hell and back.  I even fucking take when Scarlett treats me like an animal or a robot or an ape or whatever, just because I want to be around her.  It’s not healthy, but I gave up a healthy lifestyle around the time I did a marathon of Firefly, including the whole 15-episode series and Serenity.
    And now Scarlett, the woman who I love who hates me, is sitting next to me in a bra, her arms are around me, she’s cooing to me about how I’ll make it out of this alive.  I think the tourniquet is helping the bleeding, although I’m still getting tunnel vision and my ears are still ringing.  But for Scarlett, I’ll live.
    I finally manage to say something.  I ask for water.
    “Ashley,” Scarlett orders softly.  I hear footsteps walking away from the two of us.
    Just as quickly, I hear footsteps walking toward us.  Brian’s calling our names.
    “Ashley?  Scarlett?  …Chase?”  He appears.  “Chase, are you—woah!”
    Scarlett turns away from me towards Brian.  After a moment of silence, she asks, “Where’s Kenneth?”
    “God, he’s still down there.  The ghost really got him.  Chase, did you get the ghost on camera?”
    Scarlett answers for me.  “I didn’t see a ghost…”
    Brian looks confused.  “You… but it was… right there.  I mean, I didn’t notice ‘til it got Chase, but dude.  It looked nasty.  I think I fought it off, though.  Mr. Willams—“
    As if on cue, I hear the teacher’s voice.  “Everyone, out of the way!”
    Brian steps back from the stairwell, and Scarlett moves me.  Ashley comes back, lifts my head a little, and holds a cup of water up to my mouth.  She tips it forward and I drink it.  It’s a little lukewarm and nasty, but I don’t really fucking care about that when I’m dying.
    I hear heavy breathing, and that’s when I look over at Kenneth.  As bad as I feel, Kenneth looks a lot worse.  I mean, I’ve heard the expression “white as a sheet” before, and I’ve even used it before.  But I was using it wrong.  Kenneth right now is white as a sheet, white as a blank piece of high-quality paper, white as the Guardian t-shirt I was wearing before it became soaked in blood.  His pupils are constricted, and he’s breathing really hard.
    Scarlett speaks first.  “Is he—“
    “Call an ambulance,” Mr. Williams orders.  Brian pulls out his cell phone.  It’s probably best he makes the call; he’s the least shaken of us. 
“Should I tell them a ghost attacked?”
    Mr. Williams sounds frustrated when he says, “Just tell them what you need to.”
    Brian shrugs and dials 911.  He steps outside as he makes the call.
    Mr. Williams lays Kenneth on his back.  It’s then I see the gash on his back.  It’s huge; a chunk of flesh is just missing.  It already looks infected; it’s a purplish black color around the edges.  Mr.  Williams works quickly, stripping off Kenneth’s jacket (Now in two pieces) and ties it around a gash on the new kid’s side, much like Scarlett did for me.
    Ashley looks terribly shaken right about now—for the first time, I actually feel a twinge of sympathy for her.  She speaks.  “Should I get some water for Kenneth?”
    Mr. Williams nods slowly, and Ashley leaves again.  Brian returns.
    “Okay, they sounded a little incredulous, but they said they’ll send an ambulance.”
    Mr. Williams nods, and suddenly everyone is silent.  Even Ashley’s return