The Bathroom

Blake fumed as he and Charles slowly jogged down the hall. “Fuck John,” he said, anger evident in his voice.

“C’mon,” said Charles, tone chastising.

“No, he’s always got to be right, you know,” Blake complained. “I’m sick of his put downs. The bathroom is a good spot regardless what he says.”

“We’re going to check it out, okay? If it’s a good spot I’ll tell John it’s a good spot, if it’s not, you have to accept that I’m only telling the truth, not picking sides,” Charles said, “But I don’t have my glasses so right now I’m half blind though.”

“Fuck,” Blake said, “I never even thought of that.”

It took them a few more minutes to get to the bathroom door.

Looking in, Charles said, “It is weird how ordinary things can take on a whole new meaning when you’re this size.”

Blake nodded. “I’ll keep watch,” he offered, “You go check it out and tell me if it’s not the perfect hiding spot,” pointing at the distant tub foot. “I think there’s a natural hollow it in.”

Charles nodded, crossing over the tiled floor, he moved under the tub toward the clawed foot.

Hearing indistinct feminine voices coming up from downstairs, Blake edged further out in that direction, trying to listen in on the conversation between the two women. A few more steps, almost could make out a word, two more steps.

Unintelligible, then the word “pee,” from woman with the accent.

Then it was very clear, “Up there, first door on the right,” Simone said.

Blake snapped his head back, first door on the right, the bathroom door, he could hear footsteps coming rapidly up the stairs. Turning, he ran, almost too fast, stumbling to catch himself from falling, sounds getting closer. He rounded the door frame and curled in behind it, heart pounding. He could see Charles still under the tub. He held both of his hands up to halt him, then Elizabeth suddenly appeared, moving to the sink. The sound of water splashing in the basin.

He figured he could make a dash just behind her feet and get under the tub without her noticing. He knew if he stayed put, and she sat on the toilet, he was toast.

Pushing off the wall, he made his move, just as Elizabeth shut off the faucet and pivoted to dry her hands on the hand towel on the rack over his head.

Charles watched in horror as the scene unfolded before his eyes, almost in some type of macabre slow motion. Blake started to run, she turned back toward the door, lifting her right foot.

Blake wasn’t fast enough, he didn’t see the giant foot coming down over top of him, and she didn’t see the tiny figure trying to dart passed her.  At the last minute he caught sight of the shadow falling over him and tried to make a last ditch effort to dive out of harm’s way, but the ball of her right foot near her toes caught the lower half of his body, crushing his tiny leg bones and pelvis with a sickening crunching sound. Blake immediately screamed out in pain, the sight freakish, his upper body writhing backward, the mashed lower part of him almost compressed flat under her foot, blood poured out his mouth as he shrieked.

Whether it was the crunch or the tactile sensation of stepping on him, Elizabeth pulled her foot back and looked down. Frowning, she crouched low as Blake shuddered and grew still.

Charles clapped his hands over his mouth to prevent himself from screaming. He had never seen anyone die before, let alone one of his best friends. Tears welled up and slid down his face as he tried to choke back emotion.

“Simone,” Elizabeth called, rising back to her feet and turning her head toward the door.

The sound of footsteps echoed off the wood as Simone climbed the stairs. “Oh Blake,” she said, looking down on the wreckage of his mangled body, then to Elizabeth.

“I didn’t see him,” Elizabeth explained. “I turned to dry my hands, and,” she held open her hands, palms up.

Simone shook her head. “Hand me some tissue,” she said, extending her hand as she crouched down. Taking the paper from Elizabeth, she scooped up Blake’s remains and handed the red stained folded tissue back.

Elizabeth dumped the body and blood soaked paper into the toilet. Turning, she lowered her pants and underwear and sat on the toilet.

“You know he counts as one of yours,” Simone said from the doorway as Elizabeth peed.

“I figured,” she said, dabbing herself and dropping the damp tissue into the toilet. Getting up, she turned and flushed, Blake’s body turning over and over as the water circled the bowl and carried him away.

“Shall we resume?” Simone asked.

“Indubitably,” Elizabeth answered, washing her hands again as the pair left the bathroom.

Charles remained where he was for a time before slowly ambling forward and down the hall.

Master bedroom

Dustin wandered into the walk-in closet, there only a few minutes when he reappeared. “John?” he called.

John looked to Dustin, who was waving him over. Together they went back in the closet.

Dustin climbed onto the white leather running shoe, a left, he pulled the lace through the eyelet. “Like that,” he said, pointing to the other shoe.

“What for?” asked John.

“The only thing we have in our favor is the fact they don’t know where we are, and if we can keep them guessing, it only bodes well for us. If we tie these laces together and anchor one end on one of the spindles at the landing, we’ll lower the laces down,” he paused, looking at another pair of shoes, “we might need three laces so the ‘rope’ will reach the floor,” he said, trying to calculate length.

“Dude, they’ll totally see it and we’ll be fucked,” John replied.

“I want them to see it, I want then to think everybody is downstairs, then they won’t be looking for us up here right?” he asked.

John smiled and nodded. “Very clever,” he acknowledged, the lightbulb coming on in his brain as he began to grasp the plan.

They were almost halfway done when they heard the woman Elizabeth call for Simone, her voice coming from down the hall. The sound of large feet racing up the stairs.

“In the shoe,” yelled John, eyes wide.

Dustin nodded and scampered into the runner, rolling down the inside to the toe.

In silence they waited, listening intently. Minutes dragged by, uncertainty gnawing. After what felt like an eternity, but probably no more than a half hour, Dustin peered out of his shoe.

Charles stood in the center of the master bedroom, swaying slightly from side to side.

Dustin pulled himself out of the shoe and jumped down, calling John after. Together they walked toward Charles.

“Charles?” Dustin called. Charles looked up and took a few steps toward his friends.

“Charles? Where’s Blake?” John asked looking behind Charles.

Charles shook his head and started to sob.

“No,” said Dustin.

Charles nodded, “The other woman, Elizabeth stepped on him,” he said, choking back emotion.

John shook his head, eyes filling with tears.

“Caught his lower body and squished him like a, a,” he broke down before he could finish.

“Oh man,” said john.

“He didn’t see her and she didn’t see him, but I saw it all,” he lamented.

Dustin nodded, resolute determination on his face. “Okay then, we need to get cracking on these laces,” he said, turning and walking back toward his shoe.

“Our friend just died,” John said.

Dustin stopped and looked back. “Yes he did and we’ll mourn him later, right now we have to look after the living.” He pointed at the other shoe. Climbing up on his own, he resumed the removal of the nylon laces.

Charles dropped to knees, face in his hands.

Dustin let out a long breathe, “He was my friend too, I loved him, just like I love you guys, but if we don’t keep our heads, who will we be mourning next? Please, my heart aches like yours, but we need to hurry.” He went back to work.

John frowned, wiping the tear away with the back of his hand. Climbing back onto his shoe he copied Dustin.

Charles looked up, sniffling. “What should I do?” he asked, wanting to do anything to distract him from what he had seen.

Dustin pointed to another shoe, “We need the lace, to make a rope.”

“Okay,” Charles said.

It didn’t take them long before they had the laces out, the two from the running shoes longer than the one Charles had removed. Rolling them up much like firehoses, they cautiously made their way back to the second floor landing. Knotting the laces together, Dustin looped an end around a spindle and tied it off. Looking out over the entryway, they slowly lowered the makeshift rope down. Dustin’s assumption of length was pretty close as about half of the third lace spooled on the ground.

“Okay, hopefully that will buy us some more time,” Dustin said, a self-satisfied nod.

“Time for what?” Charles asked, tone morose.

Dustin smiled, “Maybe this shit will wear off right?” he said, using Charles’ own words from earlier to instill some measure of hope in the demoralized boy.

Charles smiled feebly.

“Now we have to skedaddle before they find our rope,” Dustin said.

“Where to?” Charles asked.

“Back to the master bedroom, I want to see what supplies we might be able to salvage from there,” he said.

“Supplies?” John asked.

Dustin smiled.