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Heather shows you to a spare bedroom upstairs. She is a bit younger than Emma, and the two could pass as sisters. She wears her hair down today, and her bright green eyes catch light from any angle. She spent the last half hour bouncing around the kitchen, pouring out every detail of the last twenty-four hours, while Emma cleaned the kitchen, adding in only a word or two at each pause in Heather's verbal stream. Emma is naturally thin with wavy brown locks, which often cover her dark brown eyes. Her tight smile hides true emotion. She mutters under her breath, and stares into nowhere each time you glance over. Any time you gaze at Heather, she looks away.

The second floor windows are boarded with heavy curtains pulled across, with candles placed around the ledges, as if decorated by a funeral director. There is an indescribable comfort to the room. Though hell is raging outside, you feel safe inside and fall asleep in minutes.

You awaken to the sound of booming gunfire. Waves of light blind your eyes. You sit up and as your eyes adjust to the light, you become aware that the area has changed: square cement room with huge hanging lights, rows of small metal doors across two walls, and metal tables with bodies lying on them with white sheets over their heads. Your vision is hazy and distant like peering through a zoomed-out lens. You are naked under a white sheet, and your skin is pale yellow and cool to the touch. You check your body and find no marks or bites.

You stand. You flinch as your bare feet hit the freezing floor. Under the table. you spot several objects lying on the ground. You have a feeling that you can only take one, so you choose…