A Setback

So we got to the old familiar building.

It, too, was empty. No idea where the tenants went. There were no eviction notices or a condemned sign on the doors, so I don't know why everyone is gone or where they went. No doubt STAB had something to do with it.

We were exploring the place, looking for any other leads. The deeper we went, however, the darker the walls and floor and ceiling got, like they were burnt.

But again this makes no sense; there haven't been any reports on the news of a major fire like that, and there are no remains, thank God. I don't think I could stomach anything like that after that infernal "fine art gallery." My mind might just break.

Anyway, eventually we also started smelling smoke (but didn't see any) and the air seemed more and more oppressive, like our whole bodies were in a vice. The boards creaked underfoot and some began to snap and splinter.

We only made it a couple of floors up before Torrance nearly fell through the floor. We had to get out. It was too dangerous, and even if there were no more incidents like that, it would be too stifling to breathe.

As we were exiting the front doors on the ground level, however, it was like slow motion as Larry chanced to kick a pebble that was on the floor, and it flew up and hit Frank's leg, startling him. This led, in turn, to him losing his balance and falling backward into the wall behind him, and crashing through it. Before anyone could do anything or he could pick himself up, a loose board from the ceiling swung downward. Its end had sharp nails sticking out; fortunately Frank ducked in time so his head wasn't impailed.

But as a result, the other end of the board snapped loose, and the whole thing fell, the rusty nails digging deep into the flesh of his leg. He cried out in pain and started cursing that woman again.

He kept saying it was her fault over and over as he drew sharp, hissing breaths in and out, trying to hold in his agony.

We haven't been able to lift the board up yet and get the points of the nails out, and we're afraid to, worried it might have punctured an artery.

It's all surreal, this impossible chain of events. Was his marble woman real after all? Does she set out to cause "accidents" to happen to her targets? I don't know. I...just don't know.

We've come outside to discuss the issue (within earshot, if he should need anything). Should we call the search off for now and call 911? Would he be a burden if we tried to continue? I think Frank is so desperate to remain among us once again that he's trying to downplay the severity of the injury.

If he goes to the hospital, at least Ralph won't be lonely.